In the sheltered confines of her upbringing, Daisy lived a life untouched by the shadows that lurked beyond. But as the dawn of college breaks, she finds herself standing at the threshold of independence, eager to unravel the mysteries of her own ex...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter 4
The day has been unbelievably exhausting, and I'm seriously craving some serious alone time right now. After surviving the chaos at school, I walk into my room, gently shutting the door behind me, hoping to drown out the noise of the outside world. Kicking off my shoes, I flop onto my bed, sinking into the welcoming softness of the mattress. I grab my headphones, slip them on, and let the music transport me to another universe.
It's been three days since that unforgettable party night, and here I am on a random Tuesday, but my brain is still replaying Tayler's infectious humour and Robin's witty banter. The need to recreate that vibe is so strong; I'm practically counting down the days until the next chance for epic moments like that.
As I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind, I focus solely on the rhythm of my breathing, letting all the stress and worries melt away. Before I know it, I'm drifting into a sweet, peaceful slumber.
Suddenly, I wake up feeling all disoriented, not entirely sure where I am. Glancing at the clock, I'm shocked to find it's already seven in the evening. I drag myself out of bed, stretch like I've been reborn, and head downstairs, feeling the cool wooden railing against my hand. In the kitchen, I grab a light snack, fully aware that eating this late might mess with my stomach.
I plop down at the table and have a quick chat with Ms. Gonzalez over coffee. She's like the nicest, most understanding person ever, and I'm just so grateful for this little break from the academic madness. Coffee done, I head back to my room, determined to conquer the monstrous pile of homework Miss Ivy bestowed upon us.
Now, diving into the history of art is no joke. I'm sitting there, staring at my notes, feeling overwhelmed. But I'm not about to back down. I'm on a mission to become an art history genius, or at least survive this assignment. At one point, I contemplate giving up, thinking, "If someone mentions art to me one more time, I might just lose it and throw them off the balcony." Yeah, it's that intense.
My phone buzzes abruptly, snapping me out of my trance of historical dates and art movements. I'm quick to grab it, a little thrill running through me as I see Tayler's name light up the screen. "How about Friday, 3 o'clock, party girl? Don't you think it's time to kick off the project?" he texts, tossing in a nickname that makes me raise an eyebrow—after all, that was my first-ever party.
I pause, mulling over my Friday plans—the open afternoon post-class originally earmarked for a deep dive into study mode. But Tayler's invite, hinting at another adventure, is irresistibly tempting. A mental tug-of-war ensues: Should I play it cool or jump straight in?
I consider roping in Sarah for some strategic advice but then decide against it. No, this time I'll stew over Tayler's message a bit longer, let the perfect response marinate in my mind.
As I try crafting a reply that oozes casual chic, my first draft reads like a forced casual shrug in text form. I reread it and can't help but cringe—too staged, too obvious. With a quick tap, I delete everything. Why is it that every time I try to play it cool, I end up spinning into an overthinking spiral?
