The next few weeks passed by smoothly with little to no interruptions to my routine. I hung out daily with Anna and Olivia at our usual spot in the student lounge, and then ran around the campus—not literally—with a spirited Quentin, doing various activities and meeting in our usual spot: the corner park bench at the edge of the center pond. We sat and accomplished our people watching and gossiping for the day, and then usually we would return to our room to watch a random movie on Netflix. I also went to my Art class at the same time once a week, and I continued to shrug off Levi's persistent attempts to reconcile. It's quite creepy actually; he sits the entire period watching me, and later asks me out for coffee after class. Then, we enter our usual argument:

"You want to grab some coffee sometime?"

"No, Levi."

"Why not?"

"We have too much bad history to remotely try to be friends."

"But I said I'm sorry."

"I know you are, and I said I forgive you, but that's where it's staying at."

"For now."

Each time he says that ending phrase I internally cringe. I don't know what it is, but the signals he puts off make me feel unsteady. He never says anything else. He just states that "fact" and walks away. I can tell he's trying so hard to control his temper and not loose control in response to not having control over the situation, which is all the more reason I continually try to steer clear of him.

Today, though, I plan on doing nothing. I've been constantly busy and this is my first day to just relax by myself and think about things. I find a good book and plop down onto my bed. I snuggle into my thousand pillows that take up most of my bed, and pop the story open to the reserved page. After ten minutes, I realize I've only gotten through two pages, and I had just struggled through my fifth time rereading a paragraph. I give up, my mind is elsewhere, and reading is hopeless. The hero of the story has dark hair and wears a green tunic, and that just drifted into other things that are green and soft like the material, but at the same time sharp and pierce through you as if you were snow. One would think it'd be like black lace traveling delicately through the cold white, but it feels more like an arrow to me.

My phone starts to buzz beside me. I see Quentin's cheeky face pop up and answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Scarlett! SOS, I need help!"

I have to pull the phone away from my now ringing ear, "What's wrong?"

"I'm in dire need of your fashion approval!"

Laughing and rolling my eyes, I respond with, "For what?"

"I have a date tonight and I didn't know what to wear so I thought I'd just go buy something new, but the problem is I have no clue what to buy! I need something that says 'I took time to create this outfit, but not too much time because I'm not creepy, don't worry'."

I can hear him panting over the phone, trying to catch his breathe. I giggle and tell him that I'm on my way, so much for a day to relax.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I meet Quentin up at the closest shopping center and begin creating the "perfect look". While I'm flipping through a rack of shirts, he walks up to me with a few pants in hand.

"So how have you been since the last time we talked?" he asks.

"You mean like four hours ago?"

"Yep, how have your past four hours been?"

"Lethargic and nice. I tried to relax, but my mind wouldn't stay still."

"What were you thinking about?" he asks while holding up a bow-tie to his neck, pondering his reflection.

"Oh just stuff."

His face falls flat as he gives me a "Really?" look. I laugh, "What!"

"'Stuff' is the universal word for 'boy'."

"Definitely is not."

"Yes, anyways, I'm assuming Damon?"

I look back down to the rack, "Maybe."

"See, you have one of two choices: you can either move on or go get him back. Seeing as you're off at college, and he's a total douche-bag for letting you go, I'd say move on."

His response shocks me, it's not his usual cuddly Quentin self, but I think it's exactly what I needed to hear. I can see the realization of what just left his mouth fall on his face, and he looks distressed.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry Scarlett, I didn't mean to sound rude! That just came out so blunt."

"It's fine Quin, I like blunt, I need blunt, it helps me see more clearly."

I guess that's it then. I just have to get over Damon.

We end up picking out a short-sleeved navy button-up with a pair of chino's and a maroon bow-tie to pull it all together. He kisses both my cheeks and thanks me abundantly before running off, leaving me at the campus coffee shop. I quietly sip my tea and continue reading my book I brought with me. In the background I can hear soft voices of the conversations around me and the coffee brewer at work. The bell on the door rings and I hear steady footsteps walk inside and slowly get louder, closer.

"Looks like you decided to take me up on my offer after all," Levi's distinctive voice comments.

I gaze up at him through my lashes, annoyed, "I just happened to be here."

"Well, can I just happen to take a seat?"

"I suppose."

He drops his bag off on the chair on the other side of my table then goes to stand in line. I watch him the whole time, trying not to look obvious though. A few guys next to him strike up a conversation and I watch them laugh and joke. He looks genuinely happy and carefree, something he never was back home. Maybe he did change once he moved away.

Move. Moving on. Maybe the reason I've kept my distance is not only because we do have a nasty history but also because I still have this lingering hope that Damon and I will end up together. Our past is a major factor to take into account, but people can change, and I haven't had a second thought up until now to give him a second chance.

Never will there be a second chance of us, but a friendship might be able to form.

Once he makes his way back to our table, he sits down and places a sugar-coated blueberry muffin in front of me. He sets his coffee on the table and looks at me earnestly.

"Blueberry, right? With two butters to spread?"

He remembered from so long ago? My barricaded heart softens a little towards him, and I smile, "Right."

He gives me a sheepish smile before sitting down and talking to me. We talk about what's happened in our lives since he moved and traveled further back into our childhood years, all stuff we already knew about each other, but enjoy to relive anyhow. By the end of the night, I'm beginning to not feel as uneasy near him, but I still keep my guard because I've noticed his control-issues popping up recently. But I can definitely see a friendship rekindling.

"You know," he says while taking a sip, "The fall term is about to start. All the other freshies are going to be making their way down here soon."

"I know, to think I'm a freshman all over again makes me sick."

He laughs, "Eh, it's alright, college freshman year is way more fun than high school freshman year."

We leave the shop and walk into the setting sun. A cool breeze hits my face as the night nears, and I decide to return to my room. Levi insists on walking me back, and for the first time, I agree.

I listen to my sandals click against the pavement as we round the corner to the pond, my dorm being across from it and down a bit. I see two girls make their way from the parking lot to the left of us and cut across the grass onto the pathway. As they pass I can't help but hear a wisp of their conversation.

"Did you hear that mustang purr?"

"I know! And all black like that, to die for."

I literally stop where I stood and my eyes dart to the parking lot.

Scarlett, do you know how many black mustangs there are in the world? My reassuring mind reminds me.

I shake my head and keep walking, catching up to a concerned looking Levi.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just deja vu."

Suddenly, I hear that distinctive purr of an engine in the distance. It gets closer and closer, until it's practically upon me, and I can't help but glance towards the parking lot. A black mustang, like previously described, pulls into a front parking space. Once again, I stop because my curiosity gets the best of me. This time, Levi stops with me and watches me expectantly.

The driver side door slowly opens and I see one tan Sperry place itself on the ground. Damon would never wear Sperry's. I watch as a pale pink t-shirt comes into view. Damon would never wear pink. Red hair and freckles soon follow, and I soon see someone who is most definitely not Damon.

My heart drops, but I don't understand why I'm so disappointed. What do I expect? I know I need to move on, but this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Although, when has it ever been easy?

I begin to turn away when a glint catches my eye. Pink Shirt tosses the keys over the car, and I see a hand reach out and catch them. I follow the hand down and arm and to a white v-neck rolled at the sleeves. Damon would wear that. The shirt is completed with dark jeans and black converse. Damon would definitely wear that. A mop of dark waves sits atop the guy's head, and it catches a breeze as he walks behind the car to meet Pink Shirt face-to-face. Pink Shirt laughs before waving a hand to the car, complimenting it I think.

They nod goodbye.

Pink Shirt leaves and the other turns around.

And my breathe catches in my throat as I watch Damon toss his keys in the air and catch them, an all too familiar smirk playing about his lips.