Unfamiliar (3 page)

I immediately stopped and waited for her to reach me. I had nothing against my sister. She was the only one who really supported me and my music and tried to make it to as many of my shows as she could.

“Are you okay?” Cecilia swept her hair to the side, looking over me in concern. “I’m really sorry about them. I know how critical Mom and Dad can get, but they really do think they’re helping you by saying all those things.”

“Well, they’re not helping,” I muttered, staring around at the wealthy neighborhood that my parents lived in. You could tell from a glance the kind of people who lived in this gated community of Kansas City—they had a lot of money and they weren’t afraid to flaunt it.

“I know and they really shouldn’t have brought up all that stuff about Heather, but in their own way I think they were trying to say that they’re happy you’re not with her.”

“Well, they need to stop because I don’t need them to tell me how to live my life.”

“I’ll talk to them about giving you a break.” Cecilia sighed, blowing out a breath. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you after the break up. Three years is a long time, but your relationship with Heather was completely toxic. I was worried you would end up marrying that nightmare and that we’d be stuck with her forever.”

“Cici, not you too,” I groaned, running a hand over my short hair.

Cecilia held up her hands in surrender as a smile crept onto her face. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to talk about it. I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be at one of your upcoming shows and that I love you and that I would like to give my baby brother a big hug.” She held out her arms and grinned at me expectantly.

A small smile crept onto my face as I stepped into Cecilia’s outstretched arms and wrapped my own arms around her. “You know I’m too old for hugs, right?”

“You’re never too old for hugs, little brother.”

“I need to get out of here,” I said, letting go of her. “Every time I come back, I feel suffocated, like I’m going backwards instead of moving forward.”

Cecilia’s eyes were sad as she studied me. “I know it’s hard, Chase, especially when Mom and Dad aren’t supportive, but don’t let that hold you back.”

“I know, I won’t.”

I gave her another quick hug and got into my car. As I drove away from my parents’ house, I could feel the tension in my body loosen with the increasing distance as though a noose was slowly being unraveled from my neck. My sister was right though—I couldn’t let them hold me back forever.

I finally calmed down once I got out of my parents’ neighborhood and continued driving through the city toward Lenexa, the Kansas City suburb where I shared an apartment with Jonathan. Apart from being my best friend and drummer in the band, he was also my roommate. We’d started living together three years ago after finishing high school.

The apartment wasn’t anything special—actually it was kind of a shithole—and had come furnished with all the basic furniture that we needed—beds, couches, and a fridge. The carpet was stained, the paint was starting to peel, and there was an underlying musky odor throughout the apartment. Between our part-time jobs at the local music store, this was all we could afford.

When I walked into the apartment, Jonathan was already there lounging on the couch with his feet hanging over the edge. Anyone who’d known him as a sophomore in high school wouldn’t recognize him anymore. He’d transformed from a blue-eyed, blonde-haired, chubby teenager into a lean, muscular rocker.

Jonathan not only had the customary tattoos and piercings that most guys in bands had—he also had an awesome Mohawk. And it was bright blue. Dude definitely stood out in a crowd.

“Hey,” I greeted him. “Did you get the flyers posted?”

We had a show coming up on the weekend in a local bar and since I’d had to go to Sunday lunch, Jonathan had volunteered to post flyers around campus to attract the students. Really, though, I think it was just an excuse for him to scope out the incoming freshman girls.

Jonathan jerked his head up and a grin spread across his face. “Dude, you should’ve come with me. I got this freshman’s number. She was hot as hell. I helped her take her boxes in and told her to come watch us perform.”

Even though Jonathan looked like the kind of guy parents didn’t want their daughters dating, a lot of girls were into the way he looked and he was never single for very long. Too bad his relationships didn’t last very long either.

“That’s cool,” I said as I sat down on the armchair across from him. “Did you tell her to invite her friends?”

“Yeah, I did. I bet she has a hot friend you could
befriend
.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“You know I’m not looking to get involved with anyone after Heather.”

“I get that, but the only way to move on from that crazy is to find someone else. Or to just have a lot of sex. That always works.”

I knew what Jonathan was saying was probably right, but after being with Heather for three years, I felt drained. I didn’t have any energy left to invest in another relationship, even if it was just casual sex.

It just didn’t seem worth it if someone could completely tear you apart in a matter of seconds. That was something I wasn’t willing to let happen again, even if Jonathan did have a point.

What I needed to do was focus on my music and make sure I did well in my classes. I wanted to make a name for myself and prove my parents wrong. That wasn’t going to happen if I let another girl into my life just so I could be broken apart again.

Hailey

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Braxton asked me for probably the hundredth time today as he set the last of my boxes down on the unclaimed twin bed in this fun-sized room. Seriously. I was pretty sure my bathroom at home was bigg
er than my new living quarters—and that was saying something.

“Live a whole hour away from you instead of right next door? Of course not.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. “But you know that I don’t really have a choice. I have to live on campus to get my scholarship. And I need this scholarship.”

I had spent the last few months trying to find a loophole, but it was no use. Oakdale University had strict rules and regulations when it came to the few scholarships that they handed out. I had no choice but to live on campus for at least two years. Me. In a dorm room with a complete stranger. I knew most people wanted to go away to college and get the entire college experience. I was most certainly not one of them.

I just wanted to graduate with as little exposure to co-eds, beer pong, and keggers as possible.

“I know,” he sighed then kissed the top of my head. “Still on for lunch Sunday?”

“Of course.” I smiled at him. “It’s almost eight, you should probably head back. I can unpack the rest myself.”

We only lived an hour from campus, but he didn’t like to be away from home too long in case his mom needed him.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“Yep, I’m sure. It’ll actually help to calm me down about tomorrow.” Tomorrow was freshman orientation which I was very nervous about, so I was hoping that the methodical routine of organizing my things and making this place more like home would distract me and help me to feel more settled. You would think that at eighteen-years-old I would be over the typical first day of school jitters. But this was different. This was college and I wasn’t really sure what to expect, which was a little nerve racking. I didn’t handle the unexpected very well.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up this weekend?”

“Sounds good.”

“I love you, Hailey Peters.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed me.

“Have a good first day of school.” He kissed me again before leaving me alone in my box-filled dorm room.

I sat down on the thin mattress that would be my bed for the next year and took a look around. The room screamed institution with its cream colored cinder block walls and generic beige colored floor tiles. I made a mental note to pick up an area rug ASAP. If I was going to be stuck here for the next year I was at least going to attempt to make it as homey as possible.

A small window on one wall separated a pair of identical twin beds which faced two empty closets on the opposite wall. Braxton had helped me set up my desk since it was too heavy for me to lift by myself and it didn't go unnoticed that it was the only desk so far in the room.

My unidentified roommate was nowhere in sight, but she had obviously been here at some point because her side of the room was piled high with boxes as well. I tried not to judge as I compared my neatly sorted stacks to the jumbled pile of unlabeled boxes and trash bags strewn haphazardly across her area. With no markings to distinguish one box from another, I wondered how she was going to possibly find anything without sifting through each package one by one. I scrunched up my nose in disgust. This clearly was a bad idea. I wished freshmen were allowed private rooms.

To distract myself while I waited for the Mystery Slob to appear, I started to unload my own boxes and put everything away. Because I had taken the time to pack carefully and label everything, it only took me about an hour to unpack and organize my entire side of the room. It took all of my self-control not to start organizing the roommate's belongings as well.

Classes officially started in two days and I still wasn’t sure what my final schedule was going to be. I’d get that tomorrow at orientation. I hated that I had to wait until last minute to get my books— that was the whole point of enrolling early so I had ample time to prepare.

I knew when I enrolled early over the summer that I might not get the classes I wanted as an incoming freshman. My adviser warned me that upperclassmen got first dibs, but there was always a chance that someone would drop so I’d taken the risk. I wanted my schedule so I could start planning the remaining seven semesters between now and graduation. The earlier I had it in my hands, the better.

I had printed my schedule out weeks ago and placed it in its rightful location inside my three-ring planner only to find out last week that I didn’t get into one of my pre-selected classes so I was forced to choose a different elective.

This really threw a wrench into my entire four-year plan.

After spending hours scouring through the catalog and drafting countless pros and cons lists and references back to the requirements for my major versus which classes were still available (just to be sure I didn’t miss an important one), I finally decided to go with Music Composition. I knew it was completely illogical, but if I had to choose between an extra math class and a music class, well, the latter was a hundred times more preferable despite the more practical nature of the first.

At least I liked music.

Okay, so I actually loved music. I loved playing the piano and my acoustic guitar— sometimes I even sang in the shower, but I’d never considered taking a music class.

My love for it had always been very private—my own personal form of therapy. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of sharing that piece of me with anyone else, especially complete strangers, but I figured at least I had a basic understanding of music composition so it would allow me time to focus on my other classes which was a major plus.

I decided to go shower and get ready for bed since it was getting late and I had to be in room 609 at 8am sharp tomorrow for orientation. I grabbed my purple plastic basket of toiletries, put on my robe, and slipped on my designated bathroom flip flops before making my way down to the communal bathroom.

Lucky for me, no one else was showering so it was almost as good as being in my own bathroom, though not quite. When I finished, I twisted a towel around my long mousey brown hair to keep from dripping down the hall to my room.

On the way, I passed a couple of giggling girls and a guy who was so brawny I would guess him to be on the football team.

“Hi,” one of the bubbly blondes squealed with a dramatic wave.

“Hi.” I smiled back politely but didn’t make eye contact as I made a determined beeline for my room. I wasn’t anti-social, but I definitely wasn’t comfortable having a conversation with strangers in my bathrobe.

“You must be Hailey Peters!” A tall, super-model thin girl with tight auburn ringlets and big brown eyes greeted me cheerfully as I reached my door. “I’m Tessa Rowe! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

Then she threw her arms around me, trapping my arms at my sides. My new roommate was a hugger. She let go only a second later, but it was a second too long for me considering this was the first time we’d met. We had exchanged a few emails to determine which items each of us would bring to the room per the recommendation of the university. They suggested this in order to prevent doubles of big things like televisions and mini-refrigerators.

“Um, hi. It’s nice to meet you,” I replied awkwardly.

“How long have you been here? I mean, I got here this afternoon and I’m still not unpacked! I got distracted when I met a couple of guys. One lives on this floor. He’s all the way from Miami, Florida! Can you imagine leaving Florida for the Midwest? I’d take a beach over cornfields any day. The other one—Jonathan—he's in a band! He invited me to come see his band play on Saturday. Do you want to come?”