At First Glance

Day One, 8:21 a.m.

Ellie's POV

I caught a glimpse of him through the window, he's wearing blue jeans and a white plain t-shirt, the usual.

And as I opened the door my ears where filled with some kind of ridiculous rap music is blasting from the car, which makes me even more annoyed than I already am. I hate rap music. He doesn't even listen to normal rap like Eminem or Drake. He listens to "hardcore" rap. (His word, not mine. I've never used the word "hardcore" in my life. Well, until right now, and then only to quote Billy.)

I ignore the weird feeling in my stomach and run outside so I can yell at him for being late. "Where have you been?" I demand as he gets out of the car.

"Nice to see you, too." He smiles.

His ash brown hair is wet, which means he probably just got out of the shower, which means he probably just woke up. "I'm sorry, I was packing my stuff, and then I was trying to find my parents so I could say good-bye to them."

Packing his stuff? Who waits until the day they're leaving for college to start packing their stuff? My stuff's been packed for a week, neatly stacked outside my bedroom door until I moved it into the kitchen this morning. I mean, the housing office sent us a packing list, of stuff to bring. I'll bet Billy doesn't have any of it. Not like I care. If he wants to sleep on an empty, disgusting, stained mattress because he forgot to purchase extra-long sheets, that's fine with me.

"Didn't you get my email?" I ask him. Three days ago I emailed him a copy of our trip itinerary. It was really short, with a subject line that simply said "Schedule" and read, "Billy, Attached, please find a copy of the schedule for our trip. Best, Ellie." I was really proud of it. The email, I mean. Because it was so short and cold. Of course, it took me and my friend Amy about two hours to come up with the perfect wording, but Billy doesn't know that. He just must think I'm too important to compose long email messages with him, or get ensconced in a back-and-forth email exchange. Not that he ever emailed me back. But it was obviously because I was so cold.

"The one about the trip?" He frowns. "Yeah, I think so."

"You think so?" I ask.

"El, you can't plan everything to the minute," he says. "There are going to be setbacks." He takes the sunglasses that are on his head and slides them down over his eyes.

"Well, whatever," I say. Luckily I have three copies of the trip itinerary, along with specific MapQuest instructions all printed out and paper-clipped together. I'll give him one to reference. I start to walk into the house, and Billy hesitates.

"Are you going to help me with my stuff or not?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, sure." I raise my eyebrows. "Of course," he repeats more forcefully.

He follows me into the house, and I can tell he's staring at my ass. Pervert.

"Bill," my dad says, nodding. Billy nods back but doesn't say anything. I hope he's scared of my dad. If he isn't, he should be. My dad's kind of a big guy. Not that Billy's scrawny or anything. In fact, just the opposite. He has these really amazing arms that—Ugh. I will not think about any part of Billy's lying, cheating, never-on-time body, arms or otherwise.

"Excited to be going to school?" my mom asks politely. Her tone is guarded, which makes me happy.

When Billy and I were together, she was always super nice to him. She might be making me go on this trip, but it's obvious where her loyalties lie.

"Yes, ma'am," he says. Which is total bullshit. He could care less, obviously. I mean, he didn't even follow the packing list.

"Whatever," I say, putting my hands on my temples like I can't take it anymore. "Can you start loading up the car? I don't want to be any later than we already are." I give Billy a pointed look, which he ignores, and then point him in the direction of my stuff, which is packed neatly and piled on the kitchen floor.

"Jesus, El," he says, looking at the mound. "You know you're only going for four years, right?" I ignore him and pull a copy of the schedule out of my pocket.

"We are way behind," I say, frowning.

We were supposed to have left twenty minutes ago. Although maybe if we don't stop for lunch and just drive straight through, we can make up the time that way. Still, it's not good to be starting off late. I've budgeted for traffic and unforeseen circumstances of course, but still. This should not count as an unforeseen circumstance. An unforeseen circumstance is something that you can't avoid. And this could definitely have been avoided.

Billy reaches down and picks up one of the bags that's on the ground near my feet, and it brushes against my toe.

"Ow!" I say, jumping back. "Watch it. I'm wearing sandals."

He smiles. "Sorry, honey." He turns and heads out to the car before I can reply.

I take a deep breath. I will not start fighting with him. There's no way. If I start fighting with him, he's going to know that he's getting to me, and I can't let that happen. The last thing I need is for him to think I'm upset about him breaking up with me. I've spent the past two weeks determined to show him I don't care, and I'm not going to screw it all up now.

I realise my heart is beating at a ridiculously abnormal rate, and I take another deep breath. I can do this, I tell myself. I start thinking of all the hot guys I'm going to meet in college. Guys who read philosophy books and drink coffee. Guys who listen to real music, like David Bowie and The Beatles. Anything but rap music. It makes me feel better, but only for a second. Because, let's face it—no matter how much you tell yourself you're over someone, your heart knows the truth.

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word count - 1045