Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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The first few weeks of the spring semester fly by. Before I know it, we're in February.
Seriously, where did the time go?
That question is rummaging around in my brain as I walk into my dorm. Out of habit, I check if Ava is home, my head going hazy with relief, when I see she isn't.
Still, I close the door to my room before dialing a video call with Chloé, my hands shaking something fierce. I'm absentmindedly counting the days gone by. Too many.
"Hi, Butthead," my best friend's voice spills out of the speaker on my phone, soothing some of my nerves. Chloé is here. She's sitting outside, her back against a tree, and I can imagine the mound of textbooks strewn around her. She's always sought nature when needing calm.
I could use some of that calm right now.
"Hi," I answer, but something is wrong with my voice. It's all high and squeaky.
Chloé notices, too, instantly directing her steely, scrutinizing blue gaze on me.
"What the hell did my dumb brother do now?"
"He didn't do anything. Not deliberately, anyway."
Blonde brows practically obscure Chloé's eyes, her lips rolled into her mouth, waiting.
I take the small plastic bag, pull out the even smaller package and hold it up for Chloé to see.
"Shit," she curses. "How late are you?"
"I'm supposed to start the next pack of pills tonight."
I've been on birth control since Liam, and I started dating my junior year. I had to sit through an agonizingly long doctor's appointment with my mother breathing down my neck from her spot in the corner, reading a magazine, like she wasn't listening to every word I said. It was a constant battle between what information I wanted to hide from my mother and which I couldn't omit from my doctor.
After that, I've taken that one little pill every morning. It's as natural a part of my routine as brushing my teeth. Such a small action; I don't even notice anymore. Not until I picked up the package this morning and realized that I took the last pill yesterday. A whole week of placebo pills and not a drop of blood.
My period is scarily accurate. I can predict it down to the hour, which is how I've come to take it for granted. Too caught up in classes, heartbroken roommates, and dates in the rain, I hadn't even noticed the days go by. My period should have arrived Monday, same as always.
I am a clock.
But the thing about time is once we get used to its passing, we risk not sensing when it stops.
Too many days. Too many hours, minutes, seconds. Time is taunting me.
It's been mocking me all day, ticking away loudly in my ear like I'm racing the clock. Exactly how much time have I missed?
