The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(91)

“You’re up early,” Rowe says, cracking the door open and spotting me sitting in the hall. She startles me, and the coffee I picked up from the stand downstairs spills on my lap.

“Shit!” I say, setting the cup aside and wiping the drops onto the floor.

“Sorry,” she says, recoiling a little. I scare her. I don’t mean to. Intimidating her—that used to be a goal. But not anymore. It’s a habit I need to break.

“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my eyes on my screen. I don’t hide what I’m looking for. Rowe and Cass know about the video. I told them before I called Dad. I needed reinforcement. They don’t know that I’m the Chandra-whistleblower, though, but at this point, I don’t really care if they find that out either. I just feel like it might be better for my sister if she’s in the dark. Cass had the most to gain from Chandra being gone.

Rowe slips out the door, shutting it quietly, then slides her back along the wall so she’s sitting next to me. Her nearness makes me uneasy—mostly because I haven’t been very good to her. She’s the only one who seems to sense there’s more to Houston than a casual friendship. She hasn’t verbalized it, but I notice the looks she gives me. Rowe is very observant, and I hate that she senses this about me, but it makes me love her, too…just a little.

She’s looking at my screen, watching me type in my name and scroll through news sites. I keep my eyes on what I’m doing, but I’m trying to think of something to say to her. That’s the biggest problem—when I’m alone with her, I don’t know what to say. We have nothing in common.

After a few minutes, she slides a pink heart on top of my keyboard. It’s made of paper, and one side is a little larger than the other. I can tell she cut it out herself, and there’s a handwritten note scribbled on one side. I put my finger on it and slide it into my lap, glancing at it but not really reading in front of her.

I turn to the side to make eye contact, the side of my mouth curling up for a faint smile.

“Thanks,” I say softly.

“You’re welcome,” she says, just as quietly.

It’s Friday. Valentine’s Day. And Rowe and Cass have plans with Nate and Ty tonight. There was a pathetic invite thrown my way, to be the fifth wheel on their double date. Pity—it’s come to pity. What’s worse…I’m actually considering meeting them at the bar. The thought of trying to get a cute guy to buy me a drink sounds like a good challenge for my ego.

When I moved back in, nobody asked any questions. Ty only asked if he could still call Houston for poker. I told him that we were fine, still friends. I just didn’t want to live with him any more.

Friends.

I miss my friend.

Rowe stands, her legs pausing next to me. I can tell she’s looking at me, waiting for me to say something more. But per usual, I have nothing to say to her, so I take a long sip of my coffee, pretending it’s hot; it’s lukewarm at best. When she finally slips back inside our room, I let out my breath and look at the closed door between us.

My classes don’t start for another two hours. When Cass wakes up, I’ll move back inside, maybe change what I’m wearing. I think I deserve to dress pretty today.

Closing my laptop, I slide the lopsided paper heart on top, twisting it in a circle with my fingertip. I eventually give in, and turn it over to read Rowe’s note to me:

No heart is perfect. But yours…yours is big.

- R





I wipe the tear before it falls, then fold my only Valentine in half and slip it into the small pocket of my wallet behind my driver’s license.

My homework done for the week, I spend a little time sketching out drawings in my notebook. I’ve started drawing ideas for Leah’s room. I know I’ll never be able to do anything with these drawings—but it makes me feel good to pretend. The one I’m finishing now makes her room look like a castle.

She would love it.

My sister’s alarm sounds, so I get to my feet and move back inside the room. She’s out the door for running without much conversation, and I’m glad. I’ve had enough conversation for the day through the two sentences Rowe wrote on paper for me. Those words—they said a lot.

Rowe keeps her headphones on for the few minutes we’re both in the room together; she doesn’t say anything more than “bye” when she finally leaves for class. I pull out my yellow dress. It’s vintage. And wearing it always makes me feel stronger. I think today might just call for a little throwback muscle.

My hair pinned up, I leave our room before the lunch hour, walking slowly to my first class, stopping at the grocery stand in the center of campus for a fruit salad. I’ve been eating from this stand for five days, because I’m a big chicken. I know if I go to the store, I’ll see him. And if I don’t see him, I know I’ll feel sad that I didn’t.

I’m already torturing myself in enough ways. At night, I go to the library and sit near the window. I pretend I’m studying, but really—I’m only waiting.

He never comes.

He’s probably avoiding this place for the very reason I’m coming here.

Us.

I saw a group of Spanish students meet yesterday, and I was hopeful. It’s his second semester, and Houston is really quite awful at the language. But they worked in a group for an hour, and he never came.