((Hey All, glad to be back on here.  Thanks for waiting on Brian + Belle, they are such busy people and horrible to work with  :-)*  I didn't really edit, sorry.  My puter is actin crazy so I appologize in advance. ))



Two years later


     The loud banging noise from the other side of my door only made me curl up under the covers even more.  From living in a dorm for almost two years - I know better than to open the door to investigate a rhythmic sound. 

     I rolled over away from the disturbance as my fingers began circling the bare skin of my collarbone.  A habit I have yet to break.  I'm not sure I could even if I tried.

     The truth is, there are some things that you just can't turn off.  Even if  it has been six hundred and sixty-five days.  Even if  it has been fifteen thousand, nine hundred and sixty hours since I last saw his face.

     I've been counting. . .

     "Belle!  Open up!  I forgot my key again!"  A female voice shouted through the door.  A couple seconds later the familiar banging noise surfaced again.  I moaned as I began to roll my body toward the edge of the bed.  The thought ran through my mind that Chloe has gotten dumber since coming to college. 

     As I sat with my legs over the side of the bed, I wondered how I could take my first step.  Because by now, after the snail's pace roll that I did across the bed, the whole sheet is tangled around my body.  It it were toilet paper instead of a sheet, I'd look like a mummy.

     Slowly, I stood up and took a careful step.  Well, at least I thought it was careful and positioned logically.  My body, however, cursed me as my foot caught in the covers and sent my teetering figure to the ground.  Let's just say that I went down butt first, and I think I may now have the mark to prove it.

     So graceful. . . maybe I could win Miss United States, I thought sarcastically as I ripped the sheet from my body. 

    Within a few miserable seconds, I walked over to the door and jerked it open with a huff.  My pissed off radar was about an eight out of ten.

     Chloe smiled sheepishly before whipping out a paper bag from behind her back. "I have Mexican!"  she sang and waved it in front of my head as if it were a Frisbee and I were a dog.

     "Um, thanks for your peace offering Chlo, but I'm still mad at you. . . "  I snapped and stopped as a yawn interrupted my rant, "you know that four to six pm is the only time I have to get some good sleep.  My visual art class starts at seven, remember?  We agreed on this schedule over a month ago."  Both of us had picked out our class schedules so that they would compliment each other.  But for some reason, it's not working.  It's like I'm water and she's oil.  There's no mixing.  If I had known that living with her would be this hard, then I would have tried to prevent it.  But what would I say? 

     Oh, I know you moved all the way up here just to support me, but you have to go. . .NOW?! 

      There is no way I will ever say that to her.  Chloe has stepped up and been an incredible friend to me.  Maybe after I get some food in my stomach, this will all seem really minimal anyway.

     "Yeah, yeah, I know."  she replied. "But Belle, it wouldn't hurt you to get off your schedule for once.  I mean, I know that ever since we left Virginia you've been--"  My icy glare cut her off as she held her breath.  There is one thing, or better yet - one person, that I never talk about.  Even with Chloe.  She got the signal. 

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