Strings

Chapter 1

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet

And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street

So I'm not moving, I'm not moving

-The Man Who Cant Be Moved (The Script)

-x-

I remember that it hurt, seeing him hurt.

Someone tapped my shoulder repeatedly interrupting me from the blissful voice of Luke Bryan. I turned my neck a 180 degrees to find forest green eyes staring at me. Mr. Jenner, our Creative Writing teacher craned his neck in order to read what I was scribbling in my journal which was apparently supposed to be private, clearly it was not. I pursued my lips at him, in an attempt to show him I didn't like the peaking.

"Samantha, may I have a look?" How can I even say no to a teacher? I curtly handed him my journal, watching his facial expression shift a little after reading what I'd written.

"Continue writing, I expect a few pages filled by the end of this week." He smiled. Jenner was in his late twenties maybe? A gorgeous man, who was way too nosey but a good teacher nevertheless.

I thought of the first sentence that I wrote, I tried to think why I couldn't write ahead, why my mind wouldn't translate what my heart felt. I didn't know what came after the first line. I knew that it pained me to watch him walk without a care on the path of self destruction, but I could only watch. That's all I could do.

As my last class ended, I walked through the relatively silent corridors of my college. What a contrast compared to high school where silence was not in our dictionary. It had been 3 weeks since I started college in New Eastwood. 3 weeks of struggle. Moving into one of these tiny dorms, adjusting to my roommate, trying to make some friends while squeezing enough time for actual college work. I wanted to become a writer, sounds cheesy, but that's who I wanted to be. I always had a desire to write, Dickens inspired me, of course. He made me fall in love with literature.

Drinking coffee from that lucky little white cup, I saw the love of my life, good heavens, did I mention my "he-doesn't-know-I-Love-Him-LoveOfMyLife? He made something so ordinary as "scrolling casually through a cellphone" look so damn sexy. I almost debated whether I wanted to be the cup that his lips touched oh so sensually or the cellphone that his fingers constantly played with.

Today he chose to wear a tight black t shirt and a denim jacket over it. His blonde hair looked longer, and was unruly like always. His hair just couldn't decide if it was light brown or dirty blonde. Its funny how attraction works. I am attracted to the most gorgeous boy in college, and as in the cliché movies/novels, he doesn't know I exist.

I walked past him with my head held high, I knew he saw, I could feel him see through my peripheral vision, but he didn't approach me. Why would he anyway, whats he gotta do with an ordinary looking brunette unhealthily obsessed with Potato crisps.

My dorm was pretty spacious, although my side of the room looked cramped. I still had to organize my things. College does this to you, leaves you with absolutely zero time to have a freaking life. Getting one cup of coffee in the morning is chaotic because somehow the entire population desires coffee exactly when I need it.

"How was your day?" Katrina, my roommate asks me as she throws her stuff onto her bed and lies down immediately. Katrina is half Italian and half south African. She has flawless olive skin which I envy, and thick jet black hair that I have come to adore.