Beneath my hands, the ebony table ran frigid, numbing the fingertips. With a tense jaw and eyes fixated on the clock, it was the first time I wished to be running late—solely because it could get me tensed about the time and not the circumstance. Today was another day of waking up in cold sweat, fear constantly playing tug-of-war with the heart. It was only a matter of time it won, perhaps, and I forever succumbed to the metal chains tying me down.

Liam was sitting two seats across, hazel eyes drilling holes on my forehead. His lips beheld a scowl and hands motioned at the ceramic plate on my side. I shifted my gaze quietly, and almost wanted to throw up. For someone who could live on sugar, I had no appetite for the pancakes staring right back. It was way too early and way too much food, and my anxiety had torn down my insides to shreds.

"Laura," he threatened, and I could only roll my eyes. New cities were probably my arch-nemesis because I couldn't remember, for once, being completely unscathed when I travelled to a new place. Something always fucked up. But that was better way better than walking down the same halls without him right beside.

And for that, this had to be okay.

Like the perfect older brother he thought he was, Liam tapped on my elbow. When I didn't bother, he slapped my arm rather harshly, making me grunt. His coyness slipped past his lips, deceitful smile holding me in place.

"Your glares will break the clock."

"That's a fine input to this thriving conversation, Li," I glared and slumped farther into my seat. If it were any other day, I would've danced around because of the weather. It had rained after weeks—and precisely on the first day of my senior year to a completely different high school.

The odds had never really been in my favor.

Across the table, Liam had faked hurt and scoffed seconds later before he grabbed both of our plates and went back inside of the kitchen.

Change. Change was good, but only when it was subtle and not so ground-breaking. I couldn't help but wander back to the times when I had had this sort of anxiety—probably back when I was fifteen, and after two years of almost overcoming the constant nipping of uncertainty which clawed its nails at my very being—it had struck me like a bolt of lightning: striking blue, scorching, and livid.

By the time Liam walked back into the living area, I had gotten up from my place and frantically started shoving things in my bag. Maybe I was a little late, after all; it only made me grateful. My brain over thought at a thousand miles per hour, and Liam handed me another binder hidden below the cushions.

"It's good that time's fast, I'm going to get rid of you for a while."

This is what we were. And our favorite coping mechanism was turning seriousness into undebatable satire. The genes were to blame.

I broke into a tight-lipped smile and slapped his head. "I'm glad I won't be seeing your pig face for some hours too, idiot.

"Chill, it's just school," he scratched his neck and jumped back onto the settee propped near the television. I gave him a side-eye, stopping him for switching it on to purposely get on my nerves. "Take a deep breath, dude, and focus on the present. You get me?"

His eyes held worry, visage morphed into chaos. I tried not to let the stress paint itself on my face, because Liam didn't deserve to be concerned about me more than he already did.

He whipped a brand-new phone out of his pockets, and I had to close my eyes due to the whiplash that took place. I had gotten rid of the one I previously had, and didn't expect anyone to bail me out of my decision. The air had started to dampen up—the worst kind of start to a day which was already going to be awkward—but I pulled him into an embrace regardless.

It lasted for less than three seconds before I pushed him away in disgust, and looking up, I asked, "Do you have classes today?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know, do I?"

"Rot here, jackass," I pointed at his head before I gave him a little salute. With my bag on my shoulders and strain crushing me down like a mountain peak, I turned back once. He gave me a look—all too readable yet bizarre—and I knew exactly what he meant.

I wasn't going to stop running just yet.

▂

The sky was the finest form of excellence, with sun peeking around and thick clouds dappling in the ocean of cerulean.

Westwood High was the best school in the city. The architect was old-fashioned, halls wider, and students sprawled all over the parking lot when I made my way inside. The nerves didn't ease a fraction, and the infrastructure started making no sense despite two visits over the past weekend. Being this directionally challenged was not easy to cope up with, but luckily, walking up to a girl standing right across the hall became my first instinct.

She looked twice as confused as I already was, scanning her locker and giving the ceiling a small glare from time to time. A messy bun lay atop her head, a few strands of flowing on her face like a gentle breeze. Her t-shirt—a burst of hot pink colour—was tucked into some denim flares in a mess.

I smiled. "Hey, um, could you help me for a bit?"

It was only then I realized how piercing her gaze was, cobalt eyes staring intently at mine. Then, she broke into a little smile. "Sure, what's up?"

She didn't let me speak. "I haven't seen you around. Are you new?"

"Yeah. . ." I trailed off, "Could you show me the reception? I have no clue and I need my new schedule."

"Of course; I'm Stella. It's nice to meet you," she grinned, this time, and her aura was welcoming beyond words. It felt nice to be accepted so easily into a crowd I didn't belong to, and even if it was just one person validating it, the mere thought eased my shoulders.

The schedule was only slightly different from the one I had stuck to my study table two days ago, but it still made me break into a thick sheen of sweat. I tried not to drop my jaw with Stella's heated gaze fixed on me, but she had already laughed at my expressions. "A STEM student too? Nothing four cups of coffee per day can't fix."

"And some sleepless nights," I grinned when she held her hand out. I knew just how well we were going to get along. "So good to know I am not alone in this."

She rolled her eyes. "Nah, not when my dumbass thought Chemistry could be fun."

As if on cue, I looked down at my schedule, and then on her binders in her hand, and my lips twitched in an evil smile. "Good to know we both have it in a minute."

Her eyes widened, a sharp yet barely recognizable Spanish curse flying out of her mouth. And whilst she tugged me by my arm through a myriad of people, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying Chemistry is amazing.

▂

"Chemistry sucks ass, Laura."

Lunch was bustling, people scattered everywhere. A few people came over to Stella, but she just politely refused to sit with them. She was perplexing in her own essence, sitting right in front of a person she barely knew. With a judgmental look on her face, she continued degrading the only subject I adored. Her eyes shone with piqued interest nevertheless, beautiful raven hair a tangled mess.

"It's not that bad," I said, but she had rolled her eyes and continued eating. How I could jell this well with a person I met three hours ago seemed like a mystery, but I was grateful beyond words for her company in this godforsaken place.

"Tell me about yourself," she spoke with a grin, hands perched on top of the table. I shrugged my shoulders, running my eyes over a table of boys before diverting my attention back at her.

"Well, for starters, I am from Tennessee, have a "weird" obsession with Chemistry, and have thought of dropping out of high school more times than I can count."

She chuckled. "You and me both, hon, you and me both."

No matter how much at ease she put me, I had an underlying fear—dripping in venom—that if my past could catch up to play games with me, I would end up having nothing. It was visible in my face with the way shock paralyzed my features, but I tried to clear my throat and ask her about herself instead.

She started with her passion for dancing, and that was about everything I could hear before someone called her for work, leaving me alone on the table. Quickly grabbing my phone from my pocket, I pretended to be busy until the bell rang, signaling the dismissal of lunch.

The next four classes began with AP Trigonometry, and I could feel the incoming headache develop on my forehead at the thought of the subject. Math wasn't my strongest trait, and no matter how much I practiced, ridiculous mistakes were inevitable. Walking over to my locker to grab my books out, the clatter of metal doors jamming into each other thrummed into my ears until I spotted a group of guys in my peripheral view—right in front of my locker.

I sighed. With not having done a great deal of socializing because a girl stuck to me through the entirety of the day, nerves conquered their position in my stomach again, twisting it into knots. I neared them with small steps until it was clear that they were the same bunch I had seen seated a table across in the cafeteria—an all-too gorgeous group.

Damn it.

"Hey, could you get aside?"

A second ensued. I resumed my smile.

"Could you get aside? I need to use my locker for a bit."

Nobody spared me a glance. Was I speaking too soft? I could feel my heart jumping out of its cage, much like it always did like a traitor. But the need of raising my voice dissipated into thin air when the guy leaning against my locker looked over to me—sharp jawline, twisted mouth, high cheekbones and piercing indigo glare.

My smile was still there, lips hurting from the pretense. I waited for the guy who had acknowledged me do something—but after three disappointing seconds, he seemed to raise a palm to my face—

And continue talking.

Did he just stop me?

There were numerous things I did which were unjustifiable, perhaps due to the constant war between my heart and my mind—but my intellect propelled me to throw hands, all while my heart escaped the misery. "Hello, hey," I made some vague hand gestures, finally capturing the attention of all the guys at once, "I can understand that you might be talking about something really important, but this trigonometry lesson that I'm late to will be forever unknown to me if you keep gossiping right in front of my locker."

The guy leaning against my locker looked at me like I was some species unknown to mankind, and the other two separated themselves from us like we were some plague.

"What?" he looked beyond frustrated, but his face showed conflict. "Do you want?"

I furrowed my eyebrows until my forehead had permanent developed creases. "My locker! Move."

His face beheld shock, but my eyes were glued to his. They were an electrifying shade of blue, holding onto something I couldn't pinpoint. His lips pursed into a thin line when I saw his senses return, all whilst he excused himself right in front of me.

"Do whatever you want to do," he spoke in sheer repulse. I didn't want to be mean, but it seemed as though it was the only option around him.

I faked a smile. "Thank you so much—"

"You can shut up, now. Your voice is giving me a headache," he mused, pocketing his hands. To keep my undying anger in check, I had to close my eyes for a jiffy, remember how he held no importance in my life, and open them back up. It bothered me how easily this could've gone and how the exact opposite of that happened, but I tried not to let it consume me.

"Sure, have a nice day." I said, blinking my eyes twice and turning around. A guy from the trio had started laughing, but when my gaze dropped on him, he froze.

Weirdo.

Maybe today's a good day to rethink dropping out, I thought, and then sighed. My cheeks were painted red, heart ricocheting out of my ribcage; but I knew one thing about myself: I really, really meant it when I wished people to have a nice day.

▂

AP Trigonometry did result in a headache—and for the English Literature that followed, I could only pray for it to pass without any hassles. With my head, my backache was killing me too, and I always found myself wondering how in hell could I get suffering back aches like I was at a ripping age of eighty. Class was full, students seated in what seemed like alphabetical order, and I just knew this couldn't go well.

Universe wasn't the least generous today. Turned out, my seating partner was one of the guys from the trio, and his face fell just as much as mine did. It could've been worse—I could've been partnered with the Devil himself—so when I took the seat, I consumed myself in the textbook and forgot that the guy even existed.

Of course, with the way he messed his dirty blonde hair and chuckled, I knew he would say something to me anytime.

"Hey."

It wasn't him. I whipped my head at the voice which seemed to come from right behind me. Recognizing him was an easy feat, and the fact was transparent that he was a stunner. Black hair, copper eyes, and sharp features—when a grin pulled over his lips, I was bound to reciprocate.

He was the other guy in the trio, and he looked the sanest out of all.

"I'm sorry for our friend," he finally nudged the guy who was sitting with me. Blondie was still laughing—but I assumed it to be directed at me while he was scrolling through memes.

The guy from behind was holding onto the conversation at any cost. "I'm Xavier, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Shouldn't you be at the left-most corner of the room?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he grinned, pointing at the teacher. "He thinks I am Mason, anyway."

I chuckled, shooting the whiteboard a little look. "Oh, God."

"Oh hey, I am Leo," the guy sitting with me finally acknowledged the conversation going around him, not missing a beat before winking at me. "What's up?"

Introductions were the most awkward part of any relationship. "Hey, I'm Laura, and it's a pleasure to meet you two," not really, "I suppose I didn't really leave a good first impression, but what can I say, your dear friend brings out the best in me."

Both of them burst into fits of laughter, and I found myself smiling too. Xavier managed to control himself first, hands folded on the wooden table like he was in an interview. "He is not in the best mood today," he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Leo continued. "And I know that's no excuse, so we apologize for him until he does on his own."

I doubted that, since his ego probably didn't let him see what troubles he had caused others. Biting the inside of my lip, I sighed. These guys were proving to be decent.

Once the class commenced in all its seriousness, the nonsensical chatter came to a halt. The rest of the day was a mayhem of happenings, and I couldn't track when I was in English, Art, or in the lobby for a free period. I didn't meet Stella after that, but I could still talk to her as I had gotten her number.

Once school got over, only the students who had to use the library or additional classes stayed back. The building astonished me to no limits—the immense premise still startling my mind the same. Walking around the empty halls made me appreciate it a lot more, and when I had heard a guitar strum vaguely through the halls, my feet knew where they were headed. I hadn't heard that sound in months, and I spotted the room immediately.

As my fingers grazed the knob of the door, a larger smile pulled on my lips. Maybe through an instrument I could meet someone and befriend them. The elated feeling was too good to be prolonged, perhaps—since the person I saw shut me out of words and oxygen completely.

"What are you doing here?"

hello, and welcome! you guys have no idea how much i've missed this book being on here. i'm so excited to put out an overall better draft for you guys to read. let me know what you think of it till now, i love you so much. you're golden