Where I Begin

Chapter 1

I froze again. For the third time, I couldn't do it. My body refused to let him in, even though my mind screamed at me to act normal—whatever "normal" even meant. The rush of excitement faded, replaced by a cold, numbing weight that settled deep in my chest.

Evan didn't yell, not exactly, but the way he slammed the door on his way out said enough. I stood there, exposed and shivering, picking my underwear off the floor, my breath shallow. This was supposed to feel right, wasn't it? After eight months together, shouldn't this be easy? Instead, I felt like I'd let him down again, like my hesitation was a betrayal I couldn't explain—even to myself. He usually doesn't get mad, but this time? This time felt different.

Evan and I have been dating for a few months, but we've been best friends since kindergarten. He's an okay boyfriend, I guess. We smoke, we laugh—he makes me feel comfortable, at least most of the time. He's a year older than me, but he's in my class because he failed a year.

Talking about class, I check the time: 10 a.m. We were supposed to skip school together today, but I guess those plans are out the window. Honestly, I'd rather go to school than stay home with my mom anyway.

I brush my teeth, trying to tame the chaotic mess that is my hair. How do those girls at school do it? This is so confusing! They show up at 7 a.m. with perfect, clear skin, sleek ponytails, glowing like they've been photoshopped, smelling like vanilla or something floral and expensive. They're fully made up and dressed like they're walking a runway, and I can't even manage to look half-decent without being late.

I stare at my reflection, sigh, and give up on trying to look anything other than... presentable. I grab my backpack, which feels heavier than it should, and head out the door.

The crisp morning air stings my cheeks, waking me up a bit more. The walk to school is uneventful, as usual, just the sound of my sneakers scuffing against the pavement and the occasional car rushing by. My mind is still stuck on Evan.

I keep replaying his face in my head—equal parts frustration and something else. Hurt, maybe? The kind of hurt he tries to mask with anger because vulnerability isn't really his thing. The knot in my stomach tightens. I don't know how to explain it to him, or even to myself. Why I shut down like that. Why the thought of being so exposed, even with someone I've known my whole life, feels like standing in front of an audience with no script.

By the time I get to school, the first bell is ringing. Late. Again. I speed-walk down the hallway, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. A few kids glance at me, their perfectly put-together looks making me want to melt into the floor.

I finally reach homeroom and slide into my seat just as Mrs. Carter starts taking attendance. She gives me a look but doesn't say anything. I pull out my notebook, pretending to care, but my mind is still elsewhere.

"Hey," a voice whispers next to me. It's Maya, the most effortlessly pretty person in the room, as always. Her long hair falls in soft waves that look like they belong in a shampoo commercial, and her manicured nails—painted black today—tap lightly against the edge of her notebook. She has this way of carrying herself, all confidence and ease, that makes people gravitate toward her without even realizing it.

She's the kind of girl everyone wants to be—or at least, be around. Cool, funny, naturally beautiful, and somehow, still genuinely kind. I still don't get how we ended up friends. It feels like we exist in completely different universes, hers all sunlight and charm, mine... well, not that.

"You look like shit," she says, but her tone is light, teasing.

"Thanks," I mutter, resting my chin in my hand. "Always love your support."