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Maybe we would be more than enemies.
Or maybe we wouldn’t.
Chapter Seven
Ava
It’s the dreaded first day of school and I try not to dwell on the fact that my mom still hasn’t returned from her honeymoon. Or that my dad still hasn’t called me, or that Vance still seems to hate my entire existence.
At least he’s ignored me for the last few days, sticking mainly to his bedroom. It’s much nicer than him actively trying to hurt me and make me uncomfortable. Living with him is like living with a ticking time bomb. There’s a constant ball of anxious anxiety inside of me and I hate it. I never know what to expect with him… is he going to hurl an insult at me, or is he going to hug me like he did the night he got drunk?
I wear the least eye-catching attire I have. A pair of skinny jeans and free-flowing blouse that hangs off one shoulder. It’s cute, but it’s not going to draw every single eye to me. I hope. I leave an hour before my first class is scheduled to start, and chew on a granola bar on the way there. I didn’t dare to ask Vance if we could ride together so I’m taking the Honda that was parked in the garage to class.
I’m avoiding my tormentor at all cost. The last thing I want is for us to have another duel. I’m hoping if I stay out of his way, he’ll stay out of mine and that when our parents get back, we can forget about the verbal sparring we did while they were gone.
When I get to campus, I park in one of the student parking areas and get out my class schedule and the map I printed out. Then I’m off with my Converse-covered feet beating across the pavement. It doesn’t take me long to find the building I need to be in, and once I do, I find a small bench just outside the building and get out my biology book, flipping through the first few pages.
My eyes skim over the material, and I suck in as much knowledge as I can so I’m prepared for what’s to come. To most kids, college is a drunken sex fest, where you grow, and make friends, but not to me. To me, college is my way out… my key to getting the fuck away from all the people that don’t care about me.
After a few minutes of studying, other college students start to appear, walking past me, they’re lost in conversation, laughing and smiling. Someone opens the door to the building a moment later and I get up from the bench, walk down the sidewalk and inside. I take a seat in the back, spreading my stuff out on the table. A second later, a girl comes walking in and takes a seat to my left, situating her books in a similar fashion.
The air in my chest halts. I notice right away that her book looks different from mine.
My gaze narrows in on the book.
The cover reads Abnormal Psychology. Quickly, while trying not to draw any attention to myself, I look around the classroom and realize that all the students, at least the ones in this classroom, have that same psychology book.
I swallow down the panic that’s creeping in on me and turn to the girl beside me.
“Hey, can you tell me what class this is?”
“Psych 301,” she says and graces me with a soft smile.
“Thanks,” I mumble before grabbing all my things and speed walking out of the room. I look at the building number on my way out to make sure it is building nine and it is. I double check my class schedule and the map again.
According to it, I’m at the right building, and in the right class, but the book I have doesn’t match the class I was just in.
What the actual hell? Panic turns into confusion as I look up and when I spot two guys walking toward me, I know I need to ask for help.
“Hey, can I ask a question?” I fiddle with the strap of my backpack nervously. I’m not this open with people, but I’m beyond confused and don’t want to risk missing all my classes for the day because I can’t figure out where the hell I’m going.
“Most definitely,” one of the guys answers in a flirty tone. He’s cute, in an all-American boy way.
“Do either of you happen to know where the nine AM biology class is?”
One of the guys rubs at his scruffy chin as if he’s thinking, while his friend elbows him in the side and answers me.
“Biology is usually in building two.” He hooks a thumb pointing in the direction behind him. Motherfucking shit.
“Okay, thanks,” I mumble, returning my attention back down to the map. My gaze roams over the map key and all the buildings. When my eyes lock on the number two, I curse.
