don’t even want to know what saying it out loud would be like. But it’s been over eight months since I’ve had to. Maybe I’ll never have to again. The thought sends an odd sensation of relief tinged with sadness coursing through me.
As we browse through the bookstore, a girl sitting alone in a plush armchair and staring out the front window catches my attention. Her clothes are black, her hair dark and ran through with purple streaks. With my blond hair and pink oxford button-up over a jean skirt, we look nothing alike. But there’s something about her, about the way she’s sitting and staring—like a casual observer in her own life—that has me fighting off memories of my senior year of high school. A year I’ve tried so hard to forget.
Corin’s voice pulls my attention from the girl—but not my eyes. I can’t look away. “So according to Elyse, it’s like totally obvious when freshmen sit in front of the lecture hall.”
Elyse is our RA and she’s been filling Corin’s head with this type of vital knowledge since we moved in. Not a day goes by that my roommate doesn’t dump some Elyse-infused wisdom on me.
“And don’t be early to class or write down everything the professors say.” She points a finger at me. “Oh, and don’t dress up or wear a lot of makeup either.” Corin goes on, and I’m craning my neck but I’ve lost sight of the girl in the window. “Layla, are even you listening to me?”
“Mmhm. Show up late, sit in the back, dress like a slob, don’t take notes. Got it.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m serious. If it’s obvious we’re freshman, we won’t get invited to any of the good parties. And if we do, it’ll just be by guys who think we’re stupid and going to give it up.”
“I solemnly swear that I will dress for comfort and sit in the back with you. Happily.” I’ll have no trouble blending in like she wants because I’ve done it before. Sat in the back and tried to disappear. I was good at it, too. Or so I thought.
Soon we’ve made it to the front of the line, and I’ve forced myself to stop scanning the place for the girl who I think might be my kindred spirit, if there is such a thing. I order an iced mocha and pay while Corin orders her ginormous caramel macchiato next to me. I make a mental note to remember what she likes for when we’re cramming like maniacs and it’s my turn for a caffeine run.
I smile at her profile, so proud of myself for finally getting here. For clawing my way out of the darkness that shadowed my past and making it to where I always wanted to be. On my own—not a burden on Aunt Kate or Landen or anyone. My life is finally some semblance of normal. Again, the familiar guilty tug pulls because I couldn’t have gotten here without him. Without the one person who hurt me almost as much as the man who murdered my parents.
As we turn to leave, I glance at the now empty chair by the window and wish I’d said something to her. Let her know that someone saw her, noticed that she existed. Mattered. Because that’s what he did for me.
But I don’t have time to regret not speaking for long, because when Corin and I step out of the store, a black truck full of guys drives past. One of them whistles, probably at my supermodel of a roommate, and my world pitches hard right.
“Hey, you okay?” Corin asks, coming closer to me.
I take a deep breath and the panic subsides. Don’t do this. Not now, not here .
“Yeah, I’m good. I probably should’ve eaten more this morning.” Smiling as wide as I can get my face to manage, I force the memory of a boy with a very similar truck out of my head.
“Okay. Holy shit, those guys were hot,” Corin announces, changing the subject as she practically skips ahead of me on our way to the stadium. “I love college already.”
“Maybe you should have gotten decaf,” I answer, willing my mouth to keep grinning as I try to shake off my memories of that truck. Maybe I should
As we browse through the bookstore, a girl sitting alone in a plush armchair and staring out the front window catches my attention. Her clothes are black, her hair dark and ran through with purple streaks. With my blond hair and pink oxford button-up over a jean skirt, we look nothing alike. But there’s something about her, about the way she’s sitting and staring—like a casual observer in her own life—that has me fighting off memories of my senior year of high school. A year I’ve tried so hard to forget.
Corin’s voice pulls my attention from the girl—but not my eyes. I can’t look away. “So according to Elyse, it’s like totally obvious when freshmen sit in front of the lecture hall.”
Elyse is our RA and she’s been filling Corin’s head with this type of vital knowledge since we moved in. Not a day goes by that my roommate doesn’t dump some Elyse-infused wisdom on me.
“And don’t be early to class or write down everything the professors say.” She points a finger at me. “Oh, and don’t dress up or wear a lot of makeup either.” Corin goes on, and I’m craning my neck but I’ve lost sight of the girl in the window. “Layla, are even you listening to me?”
“Mmhm. Show up late, sit in the back, dress like a slob, don’t take notes. Got it.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m serious. If it’s obvious we’re freshman, we won’t get invited to any of the good parties. And if we do, it’ll just be by guys who think we’re stupid and going to give it up.”
“I solemnly swear that I will dress for comfort and sit in the back with you. Happily.” I’ll have no trouble blending in like she wants because I’ve done it before. Sat in the back and tried to disappear. I was good at it, too. Or so I thought.
Soon we’ve made it to the front of the line, and I’ve forced myself to stop scanning the place for the girl who I think might be my kindred spirit, if there is such a thing. I order an iced mocha and pay while Corin orders her ginormous caramel macchiato next to me. I make a mental note to remember what she likes for when we’re cramming like maniacs and it’s my turn for a caffeine run.
I smile at her profile, so proud of myself for finally getting here. For clawing my way out of the darkness that shadowed my past and making it to where I always wanted to be. On my own—not a burden on Aunt Kate or Landen or anyone. My life is finally some semblance of normal. Again, the familiar guilty tug pulls because I couldn’t have gotten here without him. Without the one person who hurt me almost as much as the man who murdered my parents.
As we turn to leave, I glance at the now empty chair by the window and wish I’d said something to her. Let her know that someone saw her, noticed that she existed. Mattered. Because that’s what he did for me.
But I don’t have time to regret not speaking for long, because when Corin and I step out of the store, a black truck full of guys drives past. One of them whistles, probably at my supermodel of a roommate, and my world pitches hard right.
“Hey, you okay?” Corin asks, coming closer to me.
I take a deep breath and the panic subsides. Don’t do this. Not now, not here .
“Yeah, I’m good. I probably should’ve eaten more this morning.” Smiling as wide as I can get my face to manage, I force the memory of a boy with a very similar truck out of my head.
“Okay. Holy shit, those guys were hot,” Corin announces, changing the subject as she practically skips ahead of me on our way to the stadium. “I love college already.”
“Maybe you should have gotten decaf,” I answer, willing my mouth to keep grinning as I try to shake off my memories of that truck. Maybe I should
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