Serendipity

Prologue

PROLOGUE: STORM

When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.
-Haruki Murakami

Sometimes you're twelve and standing in your kitchen of your house- -that's too small for the people constantly in it- -and you're watching your dad bake with your older brother, and your sister is making coffee and your mom is handing out smoothies to the people she loves and you think hey, this is this kind of life I want when I'm older.

And sometimes you're fifteen and you're just learning about love, and you have earbuds in and can't be bothered to hear anything but the sad music you have on repeat.

Then you're sixteen and standing there, looking at all the romance books on your shelf and you're thinking why can't I have that and despite the bitterness you have towards it, you keep reading.

You're still sixteen and you keep getting into relationships you know won't last and eventually, the first one fades from your memory and the prospect of dating feels less exciting after you turn seventeen and your boyfriend cheats on you.

Seventeen when you learn the meaning of a toxic relationship past the definition your mother told you, and don't feel at home in your own skin or like everything is too tight on your body. Eighteen when your best friend- -to me, that's Jaelynn Sawyer- -moves to a college campus and makes you realize how big a one year gap can feel in a friendship.

Now, there's still her phone number plugged into my contacts labeled 'Bestie' and there's still photos of us goofing around in my gallery but she's not next to me to make memories anymore.

It's damaging to realize you only have one friend, and even more to realize you're scared to make new ones even though everyone you talk to is astounded to know you're lonely.

Like shit, I'm cool, I know that.

But Jae is an introvert and I'm also a lot to handle, so we never added anyone into a friend group over the years.

If I was the older one this probably wouldn't have been a problem.

All I can do now is just talk to whoever talks to me, and force myself to stay calm through every asthma attack because nobody else is around to rub my back.

There's always this slight, amazing feeling of nostalgia when she comes to visit but it only lasts for about five minutes before I realize she's almost a different person now- -she's still a good person- -and the times in our lives are so different, if we stayed as close as we were last year something would have been wrong.

I can't really remember how I got from that awkward twelve year old to where I am now, but sometimes I still feel fifteen and I still feel like that cheated-on seventeen year old. But it's a good reminder to hear those old shitty, sad songs and laugh along to the lyrics.

Those songs are over now.

And sure, maybe it could be considered a cruel turn of fate when the truck of the one boy I'm nearly desperate to be friends with- -and may, or may not, be slightly attracted to- -comes splashing down the road minutes after I broke down on my bike.

Cruel because I look like a drowned rat, I'm jumpy because of all this fucking thunder and because I'm pretty sure he's about to just up and pass me.

Thankfully- -is it thankfully when I legitimately want to scream at how dumb I look right now?- -he does come to a stop and quickly gets out, coming around the front of the car.

The first thing anyone notes about Zeno Bonnes, besides his amazing as fuck last name, is his height. He has at least three inches on most of my brothers, who regularly stand around 6'3-4.