Author's Note:

Charlotte's life as she takes on college is something that a lot of people have asked for. It's a whole new world for her—one that's going to really test her mettle—and I thought it would be the best moment to capture in this collaboration with H&M for their #ladylike movement. Many of us already know her indomitable spirit and resilience but it never hurts to see it again in action if only to remind us of the brand of strong, independent women this world needs more of.

To see more Wattpad characters in their fierce, fearless and fabulous moments complete with their own spin on #ladylike fashion, make sure to check out the H&M Wattpad profile.

Thanks to H&M for sponsoring this bonus chapter!

XOXO,

Ninya

***

Alarm clocks are the worst of the best inventions—one I could happily hate on while acknowledging the fact that without them, this world would be chaos.

It's one thing to be jarred awake while in the middle of the most peaceful sleep of your life. It's another to be met by its obnoxiously energetic blare when you've been wide awake and counting down the last two hours before it went off way too early on a chilly fall morning on one of the most important days of your life.

So I smacked it good and hard the moment it broke the torturous silence, satisfied even as my palm started to itch from the sting of the impact.

"Good morning, Mrs. Maxfield."

Even Brandon's husky greeting murmured against the top of my head couldn't soothe my nerves.

"Do you know that you never snore?" I asked in my most casual and conversational tone as if it wasn't five-thirty in the morning. "That you lie there not only looking like the most attractive human being asleep but also the most perfect-sounding?"

He dignified that comment with a muffled snort before he finally raised his head and squinted down at me with hooded but smiling eyes, his mouth quirked up at one corner in amusement.

"Let me guess—you didn't sleep well?" he asked.

I did what I could to shrug as cozily snuggled as I was in my husband's arms. "No. I was just lying here ruminating your divine existence like always—of course, I didn't sleep! Did you honestly think I could?"

Brandon laughed because he just didn't get it.

"Babe, it's college. While I know it's your first day and you're just as excited as you are terrified, you're going to be perfectly fine," Brandon said in what I've come to recognize as his merger-negotiation-voice although I could detect some tenderness in it that he definitely did not show a boardroom of people. "You've faced bigger crowds and higher stakes than this and rocked it. No one will be strong enough to resist you."

I couldn't help a grin. "You know that you're incredibly biased when it comes to me, right? I'm an acquired taste to most people—like clams."

Brandon's brows rose softly and he looked like he was trying to hold back a smile. "Clams... Right. Very sexy. If anyone asks me what my wife is like, I'll say clams."

"You know what I mean!" I said as I lightly shoved at his chest which honestly felt like hitting a slab of marble.

He laughed—and to my exasperation, I eventually smiled because it was such an irresistible sound—and hauled me up until I was practically straddling him. My hair, the long, blond curtain of mess that it was, hung over us that it seemed to have shrunk the world into that moment where all I could see was Brandon's smile and all I could feel was the swift and steady pounding of his heart under the soft cotton of his shirt.

Despite his teasing and my nerves, we both knew this day was coming for a while now and we knew it was a big deal.

College was something I'd resigned myself to never experiencing once I left for Paris right after high school graduation. While I knew my life wasn't going to go the usual route—and it definitely didn't—I thought college was going to be completely out of the picture.

The distant idea only materialized again about a year ago, when I found myself in a party with a bunch of college students, some of them I'd known in high school. I'd wistfully listened to their stories and imagined for myself the same kind of opportunity. Imagined only because even though at that time I could definitely afford college, I was already deeply immersed in being Mrs. Maxfield and all the requisite duties that came with my new last name. Brows were going to be raised if I stepped back from the limelight and did something so ordinary—and unnecessary to some people's viewpoint given my elevated financial and social status—such as go to college. Why study when you were rich and famous already, right? That would seem pretty backwards to some people but with Brandon's steely conviction that I could do whatever the hell I wanted, and my own earnest desire for it, I decided that I wanted to go to college.

So I did.

I was going to enroll in the winter semester then but I decided to invest a good amount of time with the Championettes first to get everyone grounded with the new vision and mission after the group had what you could call 'a change of heart'. I didn't regret that delay because we'd gotten so much done and I had some peace of mind leaving the reins in both Layla's and Simone's very capable hands.

And now that I was finally free and clear to start fresh, backed by a respectable amount of experience taking on bigger and trickier challenges from my stint in high society in general, I was nervous.

And Brandon could tell

And he was finding it terribly cute.

Which was pretty mortifying and annoying at the same time.

"Charlotte, I don't know another person in this lifetime who's as fearless as you are," he said softly, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips. "Fearless not because you're not afraid of anything. Fearless because no matter how afraid or uncertain you are, you're still unstoppable. You know what you want to do and that'll always be far bigger and more important to you than what other people might think or say about you. And I find that as sexy as hell."

I'd promised not to be so emotional about my first day of college so I sniffed back all the tears that Brandon's words, devastating as always in their raw sincerity, had stirred up. I bit my trembling lower lip and sat back, shoulders squared and chin tipped up.

"Sweet as those words are, you're not getting out of driving me to school this morning so get your cute butt off the bed and make us breakfast. I need fortification," I said with a wink.

"You mean you need a full stomach."

"I can't throw up if I don't."

"I'm not making you a grand breakfast that you can toss up because you're nervous."

I made a face. "What makes you think it's because I'm nervous? Did it never occur to you that it might just be your breakfast that makes me want to throw up?"

His jaw dropped open in righteous disbelief and I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach.

"You should've seen your face," I giggled as I leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose. "Thanks for that, babe. I needed it. Now I'm going to go and get ready. Don't forget coffee, okay?"

I rolled off of him and yelped when grabbed me by the hips for a second and pulled me back to him, his arms wrapping around me from behind.

"Don't show them Mrs. Maxfield," he murmured. "Show them Charlotte because she's pretty damn amazing."

I was still smiling—and possibly singing quite atrociously—as I stepped out of the shower ten minutes later. I managed to keep most of my hair dry under the shower cap so I just shook that out and ran a comb through the tangles until my fingers didn't get stuck in them anymore. I slathered on some tinted moisturizer and some brightening concealer that would hopefully tell no tale about my sleepless night.

I tiptoed to our large walk-in closet to find the outfit I'd carefully selected and laid out last night. I took some pointers from my early Championette days—the pastel color palette, the pearls and pumps. It was very old school Mrs. Maxfield.

But you're not going to school as Mrs. Maxfield. You're going as Charlotte. Who happens to have Maxfield for a last name. And happens to be married. You get the point.

Okay, so maybe it was a little too much. Honestly, most days, I didn't live in the three Ps (pastel, pearls and pumps) as dictated by the old (and now defunct) Championette dress code. Those defined the traditional idea of being ladylike and while those weren't completely out of touch, they barely covered the ground of the modern, empowered women that rocked and ruled this world these days.

The three Cs have become more my style (absolutely nothing to do with my name starting with C) and that was comfortable, casual and chic.

Throw in another C in there and remind yourself that this is College. You're going to be running around between classes, trying to find your rooms and getting lost in the process.

I scrunched up my nose at the carefully curated outfit I had hanging on the rack before turning my back on it.

I happily rummaged through my 'everyday' part of the closet (because this room was honestly the size of a small European kingdom) and pulled out trusted favorites.

First came the stretchy skinny jeans in dark gray. I liked it better than blue or black because you could still easily see they were jeans but just a bit edgier than denim blue. I paired it with a soft, cream-colored shirt that had some cling to it to make it feminine when it hugged all the right curves but just enough drape around the middle to be flattering even when you weren't sporting trim abs. To both polish up the casual look and also give it a little edge, I shrugged on a long, black, sleeveless vest that gave my petite and curvy frame a leaner silhouette especially with the pair of black pointed flats that finished off the outfit. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun (because that was just how my buns usually turned out no matter how hard I tried to make them less messy) and picked up my sleek black tote that was going to contain my entire college life today.

I surveyed the look in front of the mirror and smiled.

Yes, I could've worn my sneakers today but I wanted to make an impression. I still didn't really take myself that seriously but I had to admit that I'd grown up a bit in the year since I literally found myself in this role. I was still very much a kid at heart who could laugh and run wild but I was also a grown woman who was comfortable in her own skin and with her choices in life, footwear included.

While the old ideal would still cross my mind, ingrained as it was in us after decades of social conditioning, I've learned the sometimes difficult discipline of just being myself at the end of the day because forced appearances were just like layers of additional clothing that itched, didn't fit, and just weighed you down.

For a bit of whimsy, I put on some these dainty rose-gold dangling earrings, each with a trio of delicate maple leaves. It was fall-appropriate and softened the whole look but I didn't stop there. I needed some red because it was the color of my sometimes rebellious heart so I swiped on a matte red lipstick and dabbed a little bit of it on my cheeks for a light flush of color.

"As lovely as those red lips are, it's not going to stop me from kissing you," Brandon teased when I came out to the bright and airy kitchen in our Back Bay home. He was already sharply dressed as usual, his jacket draped over the back of the dining chair as he set down two plates of omelettes on the table. He leaned down to drop a quick kiss on my lips and grinned when I had to rub a little bit of the red lipstick from his mouth.

I wolfed down that breakfast before I brushed my teeth, reapplied my lipstick and jumped into the passenger seat of Brandon's car. I had my own car but he'd insisted on driving me on my first day—like any supportive boyfriend, he said.

Sure. Because someone would take one look at him and really see the whole college boyfriend scenario. But I didn't have the heart to tease him about it considering how invested he was in giving me as full a college experience as I could get. I wasn't naive to think that it would be perfectly normal but I wouldn't mind a little bit of ordinariness here or there whenever possible.

"Knock 'em dead, babe," he said after he pulled up in a spot by the parking lot. The campus grounds were teeming with people, some looking around with bright-eyed wonder, some looking already quite harassed for eight in the morning.

I raised a brow. "Not the best advice to give someone on their first day of school in case, you know, they take you literally."

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

We both jumped at the sudden rapping on the car window by Brandon's side.

"This is a reserved spot for the dean of engineering," an old man barked at us the moment Brandon rolled the window down. He was wearing this greenish-brown uniform with a matching hat which made me think he was a custodian or a groundskeeper of some sort, and definitely of the grumpy variety. "No stopping or unloading in this space at all."

"I'm just dropping off my wife," Brandon answered calmly. "It's her first day of school—"

"All student traffic goes on the main parking lot," the old man interrupted with an adamant waggle of his finger at us. "No special exceptions."

"Mr. Vernon, what are you doing?"

The shrill, panicked voice of a woman came from behind the old man called Mr. Vernon and when he turned, we saw the woman from the admissions office who'd been assisting us since I decided to enroll. She was very familiar with the fact that the Maxfields were generous, long-standing benefactors to the university and gave us lavish attention in all the times we'd been in. She was very nice so despite my inner cringing at the special treatment, I couldn't tell her to go away.

"They're parked in a reserved spot, Mrs. Willis," the old man answered indignantly. "I was just telling them to go away."

"Mr. and Mrs. Maxfield can park wherever they want to park on campus," Mrs. Willis told the man before flashing us an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. I'll make sure to circulate your license plate so that no one bothers you. Or better yet, we will assign you a reserved spot."

Brandon scratched his head. "No, please, don't. It's okay. I probably didn't notice the Reserved sign when we pulled up. We'll move to the main lot. It's not a problem."

Mr. Vernon and Mrs. Willis were still arguing when Brandon finally sighed and gave up and pulled out of the spot.

"Thanks for that," I told him as we finally pulled up into a spot where a guy just spent five minutes trying to back out of. "There's already a Maxfield Annex here. I didn't want a Maxfield parking spot as well."

Brandon smiled. "You sure? It's more modest than a whole building annex. You can probably live with that."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'm good. Why don't you just drop me off and you can go? Don't you usually have a board meeting at nine on Mondays?"

"Marissa's cleared most of my morning," he said as we finally stepped out of the car. "I'm here for a little bit. I want to walk you to your first class."

I paused just as we were about to join the throng of students by the main footpath. "You don't have to. I'll be fine. I had my morning coffee, and some breakfast and some pep talk from you. I'm good to go."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand. "I'm doing it for me, okay? Now tell me where you first class is and we'll go."

We probably looked a little strange walking through campus hand in hand. Brandon definitely had a trail of female admiring glances as he walked by and I couldn't really blame them. Not only did they probably recognize who he was, he also just looked like a hot CEO walking around campus. And I couldn't stop smiling at the thought that they didn't even know half of what a total sweetheart he really was.

"I'll see you later, okay," he said as we stopped just across from the door of the classroom. "Call me at lunch and tell me all about your morning. And call me when you're ready to go home later. I'll pick you up."

I smiled and squeezed his hand. "You are too much but I still love you for it."

"You'll think it's ridiculous but I feel incredibly proud of you right now," he said as he pressed a kiss on my forehead. "You'll do great, Charlotte. You always do."

I watched him as he walked away, willing myself to stay put and get inside the classroom. When I turned around though, not-so-friendly faces greeted me.

Great. Just have to have one of these everywhere I start new.

"Charlotte Maxfield. You just love to rub everyone's nose in it, don't you?" the girl who stood in the middle of the female trio asked in a haughty tone, crossing her arms and staring me down. They were young, probably a couple years younger than me, and sadly, juvenile as well if their disdained expressions were anything to go by.

"What is it exactly that I love to rub everyone's nose in?" I asked patiently, holding her gaze steady.

She shrugged. "That you're Cinderella."

I barely stifled a laugh. "I'm definitely not Cinderella. I have ID if you don't believe me. And whatever itch you might be experiencing with your nose probably isn't because someone's rubbing it in anything. It might be you sticking it in other people's business. I prescribe backing away and staying out of it. Might help."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know the kind of girl you are. Always trying hard to fit in. Always trying to be someone else. Trying to be all ladylike when you're not."

"You won't mind, would you, if I don't bother asking you to expound on your thoughts about ladylike behavior since you don't seem capable of exemplifying it," I said. "Real ladies respect each other. They rise because they stand up for themselves, not push other people down. And most importantly, they don't measure their worth in the little box you live in. I suggest you step out of it, live in the real world a little and leave high school behind. You're in college, after all."

With that parting shot and a sunny smile, I walked past them and strode right into my first day of class, reminded that life is never going to be without battles but who you are is always worth fighting for.

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