Before Sunday

Author's Note: Before Sunday has been selected as part of the paid stories program on Wattpad. This is a huge accomplishment for me as a writer, and I'm grateful to have the support of my readers. It means everything. Thank you, Leah.

9:47 PM

" Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." Roald Dahl

I'm invisible. No, not literally. That would at least be cool—worthy of my own superhero movie or action figure. Nope, I'm talking about the figurative kind of invisible. The one that ensures my existence flies under the radar, and hides in the shadows, undetected by society. Sometimes it's like I'm not here—a living, breathing person composed of cells and flesh and blood. Even my roommate Tori, seems to forget that we share an apartment the size of a shipping container and leaves a trail of Tori-like debris in her wake.

I pick up a pair of red, lacy underwear that resemble dental floss with the end of my pencil. They're crossing the imaginary line between my space and hers so I toss them on her bed. She'd doused herself in perfume before she left for her night out and the scent permeates the air, lingering in an unappealing mix of mandarin and jasmine. It's borderline offensive, gives me a headache, and makes focusing on my mammoth textbook impossible.

The words are a jumbled mess, much like my mind. I'm about to throw on a sweater and go for coffee when the door to our dorm bursts open showcasing my best friend, Xavier Morgan.

His hands are tucked behind his back, and the impish smile he reserves for me stretches across his face. He's tall and built and his hazel eyes gleam with a particular brand of mischief that could be his trademark. He's gorgeous, funny, smart and popular.

A jock.

A total cliche.

Every girl's dream guy.

Every girl except me.

Truth be told, he's the whole package and then some but he's also the little neighbor boy who used to climb through my window, dirty and snot-faced from chasing one too many toads by the creek. He's basically the brother I never had. Yet, somewhere along the way, maybe when I had my face buried in a book, Xavier became a man. 

He can catch a football in one hand while scoring a date for Friday night and reciting Freud's Oedipus Complex Theory at the same time. It makes my head spin. I mean, he has to know he's a total catch and me-well—I'm not. Even so, X is the only person who sees me.

"Hey Mouse," he says. We're in college and he still calls me Mouse, like he did when we were five. More often than not, I adore this term of endearment but sometimes, like when he shouts it out in public, I can't help but feel childish.

"Hi."

He steps into the dorm, showing his hands from their hiding place to reveal a pink cardboard box complete with an oversized satin bow.

My heart melts a little. "You remembered."

"Is that a joke? Of course I remembered. You only turn twenty-one once." He pauses and his face skews in disgust. For a moment, I'm sure he must smell the Eau de Tori until he says, "Speaking of which, why are you hiding away in your dorm celebrating with a mountain of homework?"

"Exam week doesn't cease to exist because it's my birthday."

"Well it should." He sets the box down so he can remove his jacket. "The whole world should stop spinning just because it's your birthday." He tosses the coat on Tori's side of the room and marches over to my textbook to slam the front cover closed. "C'mon, enough with the studying, we have things to do, celebrations to be had."