RIVER

Taylor had ruined my morning already, and I hated how smug he was about it. I had finished up my morning routine and was already taking my cereal when he stepped out of his room, looking very different from all the other days. He had a t-shirt and a black jacket thrown over him, a cool vibe. His jeans were the cool kind, the kind that the athletes and jocks at my high school wore.

"No breakfast for me?" With the expression on his face, I was not even sure if he was teasing me or if he was being serious about it.

"I don't share my..."

"That's fine." He does not let me say what I have to say; I will just make a plate for myself. He opened the cupboards and began to pour from my cereal box. Into a plate. I want to stop him, but it sounds like I am being petty about food, and it was not a good look on me, so let it go.

"To pay you for the cereal, I'll give you a ride to campus," he says as we step outside. At least he has a conscience, but when I see him climb onto his motorcycle, I shake my head as if I had just been asked if I wanted to die.

"No, thank you."

"Are you scared?" He asked as if my fear were visible and I had been holding it above my head.

"No, but there is no way I am going to get on that." I point to the machine underneath him.

"It's fairly safe," he said, tilting his head back and forth swiftly.

"Fairly safe? Do you know how many people die on a motorcycle yearly?" I ask, and he looks as if he is about to laugh his ass off.

"I do not, and I do not need you to tell me the statistics," he responds, stifling his laughter in my face.

"I am not getting on that," I said, walking down the stairs onto the pavement. If it were a car, I would have considered getting a ride from him, but if I sat on the motorcycle, then I would have to hold onto him from here to campus, and I could not even begin to imagine doing that.

"Oh come on, I have helmets, and it is safe; I will drive within the limit," he said, and then, under his breath, with an eye roll, he added under his breath "Like a lunatic."

"I am not getting on that, and you don't have to worry about me."

"Who said I was worried? I just do not like owing anyone, and this is my payment for the cereal this morning."

"You know what, do not worry about it; you can have it for free," I say as I begin to walk towards the school direction and he begins to drive slowly beside me. "I said you don't have to worry about it."

"You do know that there aren't any cabs going this way and the bus is not for another ten minutes," he adds, and I roll my eyes at the fact that he was spitting. "If you get on, I can get you to school in ten minutes."

"In ten minutes? A ride of twenty minutes in ten? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" I scream, shocked at his audacity to own a motorcycle and even drive at high speed without any care.

"Are you worried about me?" I stop abruptly and turn to him, and that stupid smirk is on his face. I try to act as if it does not disturb me.

"I am not worried about you, and I am meeting a friend a few houses ahead, so I expect you can carry both of us on this death trap, and then I suggest you go." I lie, but he does not look like he is buying the lies from me, and I wonder if I was just a terrible liar or if he was good at reading people.

"If you say so," he said, gripping the handle and causing it to roar to life, scaring me even more. "See you later, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I say into the air, but I am left alone with smoke and dust in the air and him a long while away from me. I hike up to the bus station and join the next bus up to school. By the time I get there, I am so exhausted that I am almost regretting not taking up Taylor's offer, but I am reminded of the danger of being up there.

I find the department, and as much as I try not to remember Lana, her call comes in as if she had a camera on me.

"Hi." Her voice is too happy. Was she that glad to be there, or maybe she was high? "Are you here now?" she said, and I nodded.

"Are you?"

"Yes, I am," I murmured, wishing she would leave me alone.

"I am at the Alden complex. Come quickly," she said and cut off the call. I look at the wall beside me, and I try to understand the map. After a few attempts, I walk towards the Alden complex, and she sees me before I can and begins to move towards me. I see another girl, Black, thick, with long hair reaching her waist, and a small face following behind her.

"You are late."

"It was a hassle getting here," I say, trying to hide my frustration. Why was it so difficult to get on campus?

"Maybe you'd find someone living in the same neighbourhood that you can hitch a ride with," Lana said, already proffering a solution to my problem.

"Or you can get a bike," the girl with sparkling eyes added.

"River, this is Elise. Elise, this is River," Lana introduced us, putting me on the spot without any thought.

"Oh, hi," I say, waving my hand awkwardly to her. She steps forward and holds my hand excitedly.

"I hope we all get along."

RIVER

The day is finally over, and I have never been so eager in my life to curl up in my bed and think about how to take control of my life once again. All through high school, I had been a loner who did not care what people thought of me, and Lana knew this, so I wonder why she thought it was a good idea for her to try and act friendly all through the day. I had barely gotten a moment of peace without them hanging over my head and chatting loudly.

Lana's insistence on us talking to other boys in the department with hopes that someone would be living close by and would be willing to drive me to and from school was sweet, but I saw it more as a burden. I could hike up the hill, catch a bus, and be in school before any of them. I have worked on a tight schedule once in my life, and I am sure I can work on one now. How hard could it be?

"There is a faculty welcome party for all freshers," Elise said happily. From the moment I saw her, I knew she would be the kind of girl who would like parties, and she had just proven me right.

"I won't be going," I say before she can suggest that we stay together and dress up to show up at the party, get drinks, and get so wasted that we won't be able to get to class tomorrow"

"Why?" she asked, almost hurt that I had turned down her offer.

"Partying on a school night? I must decline." She looks at me as if I had spoken in the most foreign language she had ever heard. "I want to start reading so I can be ahead of the class," I add, wanting to make sure that my stance in school is clear to her. I am not here to party but to read, become a pharmacist, and graduate as the best student in my year.

"But the party isn't on a school night; it's this weekend," she replies, and I almost feel stupid. "You can't come if it's on a weekend?" She adds, and I bite the inside of my lips.

"I can't." I shake my head, not allowing her expressions and emotions to get to me. She doesn't need me at the party to survive, and they can both get by without me there.

"Why not? It would be fun, and I heard that we get to meet our seniors at the party; we can ask them questions too," she replies, with Lana standing beside her, eager eyes practically pleading with me to come along with them.

I get to meet seniors? Would a party be a good time to meet them? Maybe I can find a tutor who would be willing to put me through and make sure I understand all I need to.

"Are you sure I get to meet the seniors?" I ask, and she realises that was all I needed to hear.

"A hundred percent, so why don't you just come?" Lana jumps in at once.

"Okay, good. Then we will meet at your place since you stay off campus, and we can go from there," Elise chimes in once she sees how I am already agreeing to their terms.

"My place?" I ask with terror in my eyes. I don't know if I am ready to let anyone else besides myself know that I have a boy for a roommate.

"Yes, can we not?"

"Well, my roommate is really strict about things like this, so I am not sure she would appreciate the company." I lie and realise that what people say is always true. Once you start lying, there is no turning back. All you do is fall even further the more you try to make it out. Just like a sinkhole.

"Huh! What year is she?" Elise asked, wanting to know more about her. I knew I had to shut it up before it became a topic for discussion.

"Third year," I say, and before she can comment further, I turn the topic around. "Since we would be meeting the seniors, do you think I can put my notes into a file and have them look at it?" I ask, and she stares at me as if I had drawings on my face.

"What do you mean?"

"I am asking if it is possible for me to have my list..."

"Oh my goodness! You are such a nerd, and trust me, I mean this in the best way ever." Elise turned to Lana with a smile. "You were so right; she is cute."

"I am not offended you called me a nerd," I clarify, because to me, the best thing ever is to be knowledgeable about the things that matter to you, and this matters a lot to me.

"I did not mean it as an offence; it is supposed to be a compliment," Lana explains, almost as if I did not get it the first time. I nod, and she smiles.

Before long, it is time to go home, and I get home quite exhausted. I am beginning to rethink my decision to stay at this house for the next four years. How can I hike all morning and evening? Maybe I might take the girls' advice and get an electric scooter or a bike to help aid my transportation.

As soon as the door opens, I am faced with an intense smell of pasta and some spices. I look over at the kitchen and see Taylor standing there, shirtless, with an apron tied around his waist.

"Sweetheart, you are back." He is chirpy, but he still has a smirk on his face.

I am too tired to tell him not to call me that, so I let it slide for tonight. The smell of the meal fills the entire room, and I realise how hungry I am.

"Go wash up and come out for dinner," he announces, almost like a mom. The feeling is strange. I had seen moms do this in movies, but I had never experienced it myself. Growing up without a mom had been hard, hard, but I had never told anyone about it before. When I was still a child, Dad always had a babysitter over; she would make meals, which were usually microwaved leftovers from the previous day or from lunches my aunt brought for me.

Once I became a teenager, the duty of lunch and dinner fell on me. I did it with you because I really did not have any other choice, but hearing someone wanting to make sure I had a meal without even knowing me warmed my heart.

"What are you thinking?" He snapped his fingers in my face, and it was only then I realised how close I had gotten. "Are you going to eat or not?"

RIVER

"I will pass on your offer," I say as if my stomach were in tune with me. I let out a long rumble. I was used to eating thrice a day even though it was never a proper meal, but today after eating cereal, I had spent the rest of the day moving from building to building trying to get all of my classes sorted out at once.

"I don't understand why we are doing this." Elise had complained, but at the end she had been grateful that she could spend the rest of the week indoors and not bother about the admission process again. All she had to worry about was schoolwork, and until schoolwork began, we were free.

"Your mouth is saying something, but your stomach is saying another; who should I believe?" He asked as if I were to answer the question. I just stood there, my bag still slung over my shoulders, as I stared at him.

"I really do not..." I stop at another rumble from my stomach.

"Oh geesh, you must be real hungry," he added, making me even more annoyed than I was. "There is no rule that says we can't share meals." He points to the fridge, and my eyes run over the rules one by one. Rule number five was too similar, and it made me want to say no, but what did I stand to gain from eating a little warm pasta so I would not have to eat some cold leftover pizza?

"Okay, fine," I say, dropping the bag to the floor and sliding onto the counter stool. "Just this once," I murmur even though I am not sure if I trust myself. One lie had turned into a mountain of lies, and one meal from the first night was going to just open up more and more like this one.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"Can you stop calling me that?" I ask, and he shakes his head. He was the embodiment of stubbornness, and he was not afraid to even show it.

"Why would I? It suits you so well that it would be an injustice if I didn't call you that." He turns to me, and I want to comment on how he is breaking rule number one again, but I cut him some slack since he was cooking dinner for me. "Moreover, what is your bias against the name?" His question makes me think.

Why don't I like the name? I don't think the name is the problem; I think the issue is that it is coming from him to me. I sit there with my hands on the counter and my legs dangling, as I do not have an answer.

"Are you going for your faculty party?" He asked, and I am not shocked; the question truly sounds like something he would ask. I stare at him, and he tilts his head, expecting an answer. "Well?"

"Yes, but only because I heard I get to meet the seniors, and I can ask them questions." As soon as he hears my reason, he bursts into laughter, doubling over as he wheezes in the small space.

"Really?" he finally controls himself and throws at me. I sat there confused at his reaction but not wanting to take offence until he explains his reaction. "Oh my goodness! I guess I should no longer call you sweetheart but Professor Case-that suits you way more," he adds into explaining his sudden outburst to me.

"I do not want you to call me that either," I say, and he looks deadpan at me with a smirk on his face.

"You don't get to choose what your nickname will be. I get to choose what I would call you," he says, and I lean forward almost subconsciously.

"Does that mean I can pick a nickname for you?"

"If you want?" His response is sly, and it makes me wonder if he had planned this, if this was where he wanted me to be. I try to think of a nickname he might not like, but all that comes to mind sounds hurtful once they say it out loud, and even though he had been very annoying, he was not being rude in any way, so I did not have an excuse to be rude to him.

"I will pass on that offer," I say, and he throws his hand in the air in surrender before he turns to the stovetop.

"Perfect," he murmurs as he takes off the pot from the stove onto a trivet, and then he begins to fill two plates. He places one in front of me, and I can't deny it; it looks as good as it smells, and I can't wait to find out if it tastes just as good.

I swirl my fork into the plate and twirl until it is covered in the pasta and its juiciness. I lift it gently to my mouth and blow on it for a few seconds before pushing it into my mouth. The juiciness of the meal explodes in my mouth and makes me eager to taste more. I look up at him, and he has a smirk on his face with his eyebrow going up on one side.

"Just sing my praises already," he said in a joking tone, and I drop my face to the plate in front of me. How could I not get addicted to whatever meal he would be cooking when his cooking was this good?

"This is good," I say and focus my attention on the meal. He shrugs as if it does not matter and comes to sit beside me on the stool. I feel the heat of his body radiating towards me, but I ignore it because I have to; that is the only way I can keep sane here.

We sit side by side and fill our mouths with the mouthwatering pasta. I wondered how I was able to keep my cool with him just now. Once we are done, I offer to do the dishes.

"I will clean it up since you cooked," I said, and he knew I would not let it go until I had my way, so he let me settle into the couch in the living room. The television was playing pictures with a muffled sound. I see him put his phone to his ear, and I watch how the cocky atmosphere around him changes to tension. He walks to his room, changes into something different, and without a word to me, he leaves the house. I only know he is truly gone when I hear the sound of his motorcycle speeding away.

"On my way, T, hang tight."

"What the hell just happened?"