Still Beating

Chapter One

I'm awake underneath my closed eyelids when my alarm sounds. Internally, I groan. Outwardly, I don't move a muscle. It's the first day of my third year and the last thing I want to do is get myself up and ready for my nine a.m. class. I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, prolonging the inevitable for just a little while longer. My back arches off the bed as I give my body a good stretch, my feet nearly hanging off the small dorm bed. It's one of the reasons why I now sleep with my legs tucked against my stomach. That, and because it helps me feel like I'm not falling apart.

In between bites of a granola bar, I pull on my jeans, practically hopping around my room. My clothes and books are neatly tucked away in their appropriate places, a product of my decision to arrive on campus a week earlier. I had time to put everything in order, but as they say, looks are deceiving. If only I was as put together as my temporary home.

It didn't take long to put my things away—I don't have much—so I had more free time than I wished. Still, being here beat the looks of sorrow and pity from the people in my neighbourhood. All I wanted was to stop being the girl whose best friend got killed in a car accident as soon as possible.

Of course, being away at school doesn't necessarily help with that. For one thing, I'm much too close to home still. The bar Ethan was at before he started the car at a blood alcohol level above the legal limit is a half hour away from campus. And that's if I walk. And second, being at school is just a reminder of the fact that Ethan is not.

With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I close the door shut and walk down the halls of Brenner, not making eye contact with any of the fellow girls in my dormitory. The bright light of the sun hits me forcefully as I push open the heavy double doors and step outside. Despite the fact that smiles have been hard to come by lately, when I see a certain boy my lips curl upwards.

He's standing with his backpack on one shoulder, one hand in his pocket and the other leaning on the stone railing for support. Until one month ago, there were two special boys in my life. Ethan, my best friend, and Josh, my boyfriend. Josh knows what Ethan meant to me, and I realize that he feels pressure to fill both roles in my life now. I met Josh during my first year at Columbus and by the time final exams were said and done, we were dating. I met Ethan during kindergarten. There's a big difference between the boy who kisses your lips and the one who kisses your scraped knee.

"Hey," Josh says quietly, pulling me into a quick hug. He's gentle with me, even more than usual, as if he's waiting for me to break at any moment. He puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back a little. His blue eyes scan my face, looking for any traces of sadness. I notice the slight frown of his lips when he lands on the dark circles under my eyes, indicating my lack of sleep. When he's done with his assessment, I speak.

"Hey yourself. We better get going, class is starting soon," I remind him.

We fill the short walk to the auditorium where my English class is held with small talk about the weather, his family and everything but Ethan.

"So, this is me," I say in front of the old wooden doors.

"Have a good class," Josh says sweetly. I don't respond. His casual suggestion seems impossible to me. He looks at me with pity in his eyes before his expression changes abruptly.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I won't be around Friday. I'll be home for the weekend. My grandmother is sick and my mom wants everyone together."

My eyes widen in surprise. This is news to me. "Oh my god, Josh. I am so sorry. I didn't even know. When did this happen?"

His grimace answers my question. "It wasn't really a good time to tell you...."

I nod quickly. "I get it."

"You going to be alright if I go?" He doesn't look at me as he speaks. A habit of his when he feels guilty.

"Yes, Josh." I sound more irritated than I want to.

His lips mash together. "See you around then, call me when you're done for the day."

One tight hug later and I'm alone.

The dimly lit auditorium is fuller than I anticipated. I'm either later than I thought or this group of students is especially keen. It's more likely the former. This is Columbus, not Columbia, and the public university I attend in Brooklyn is definitely not as prestigious or academically gifted as the one in Manhattan.

The first few rows are mostly empty and the middle rows are full save for a few seats here and there. With my head down and my bag hoisted on one shoulder I walk up the aisle to the final few rows. My backpack lands on the table with a thud and I pull out the wooden chair beside a brown-haired boy with glasses. His hood is pulled over his head and his shoulders are hunched as his fingers work quickly on a small device of some sort. Upon noticing my presence, he turns his head to the side, not fully looking at me. I wait for squirrel-boy to say something, but instead he just grabs his bag off the chair and takes another seat a few rows in front of me. Inconspicuously, I pull a lock of hair under my nose and take a good whiff. My shower schedule has been off lately. I went a good two weeks without a shower after I first got the call about Ethan, and part of me thinks the dirt is too deep now to get rid of, no matter how hard I scrub.

Deciding that the faint smell of strawberries from my shampoo is an innocent enough odor, I turn my attention to the front of the room. A tall boy dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans is talking to a petite woman at the front of the classroom. I can tell by his lob sided smirk that this boy is confident and probably used to getting what he wants. I roll my eyes at how casual he is with our professor; her red sweater set and pencil skirt give her title away. Idly I wonder if he's fucked her, and if that's where his confidence comes from. I wouldn't put that past the boys at this school.

With a light touch to the boy's arm, the professor turns away and approaches the podium. I cast my gaze onto my laptop screen on my desk and write the date in the top left corner on my Word document. Just when I think I've forgotten about the professor's buddy, the chair beside me pulls out with a squeak and suddenly he's next to me. I don't address him, but for some reason I grow a little nervous in his presence. Quickly, I hit backspace and retype the date, just for something to do.

"Do you bite?" A male voice asks from beside me.

His question catches me off guard, and any initial intention not to talk to this guy goes out the window.

"Excuse me?" I look at his face properly for the first time and am thrown off by the fact that he's actually quite good looking. Really good looking, in fact. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice his appearance before, but now that he's close I notice his green eyes, his thin arched eyebrows and his sharp cheekbones. He's pretty, but in a masculine way.

"Last time I checked, some other kid was sitting in this seat. But then I saw you sitting here, and that poor boy is sitting way up there," he points in that direction with his chin, "So whatever you said or did to him, must have been pretty scary."

The light tone in his voice and that damn side smirk indicate he's joking but his words do have a strange sense of truth to them.

"Not that I'm complaining, of course. I'd much rather have you beside me than that squirrely kid."

I know he's blatantly flirting with me, but I laugh at how we both pegged that other guy the same.

"Trust me," I say finally. "I didn't do anything to that guy."

The still unnamed boy winks and pushes back in his chair so that he can put his feet on the table. The professor, who introduces herself as Prof. Wilson, begins her lecture. I struggle to keep up with the notes while I see out of the corner of my eye that my new friend is doing everything but paying attention. His eyes dart from a girl's round ass who got up to toss a wrapper into the garbage to checking his phone every two minutes. As distracting as I find his behaviour, I'm jealous. There's something carefree about his attitude, while I'm hanging on to the professor's review of the syllabus like my life depends on it.