Who Are You \\ Laucy

Chapter 8

I'd been pacing around my room for what felt like an eternity, the confining space of my frigid prison-like dorm further inhibiting my thought process. No matter how amazing the people were here, this place would never come close to feeling like home.

The texts remained unopened, and they were the only thing that filled my mind. Was Lucy angry? And what could possibly merit nine texts?

The room was dead silent, Emery had gone out with Robin and Dean tonight. Or so she said. Those three had a knack for getting away with things. Not to mention the fact that she was always so secretive, never divulging even the smallest of details, despite my persistence.

Through the window, the faintest hint of daylight lingered, light shining from the smallest sliver of sun that remained unobstructed by the properties lining the water's edge. Pressing my temple to the cool glass that barred me from the outside world, I knew I was only delaying the inevitable. Hands shaking, my thumb stabbed at the message icon that haunted my thoughts.

Luce: hey

Luce: so... I kinda need a little help with homework

Luce: see, it's for creative writing, and you're like the best writer I've ever known. though I don't know a lot of writers :P

Luce: but I could really use some advice

Luce: and sorry about everything the other day, I was being stupid. I'm really sorry :(

Luce: hello?

Luce: are you still mad at me? I understand if you are but please reply

Luce: Lo? you there?

Luce: look I'm so, so sorry. forget about the damn homework, I just want to talk to you. I'm honestly so sick of shutting each other out because of some dumb things we did back then. please hear me out?

Without thinking, I clicked the call icon by her contact name, each ring sending my heart further into overdrive. I willed her to pick up.

"The number you are trying to reach is not available right now..." a mechanical voice boomed in my ear. A slew of curse words escaped my mouth, my fiery temper uncontained. I tried again. Nothing.

One more time. The same robotic message. The same cold, emotionless message whose choice of words was just polite enough to piss me off.

Immediately, I grabbed my keys, slipping on my trusty blue Converse before heading out the door. The hallway was surprisingly drafty, making me regret not taking the hoody sprawled across my mattress.

My footsteps were heavy with ambition, echoing in the stairwell. Getting out of the stairwell onto Lucy's floor, I ignored the familiar faces that tried to greet me, my mind empty yet overwhelmed at the same time.

Lucy wanted help with her stupid assignment, yet she had the audacity to not pick up the phone when I called? She said she wanted to talk. And I'll be damned if she gets angry for me not answering her texts within two hours because I wanted to enjoy some time with my family before being thrown back into this tumultuous struggle to repair our relationship.

I was here. Room 218.

All my angry energy was gone by then, replaced by an overwhelming nervousness and feeling of impending doom. This was the deciding factor in whether or not we'd even be friends again, I decided. No more playing games or storming off when there was so much we weren't verbally expressing, hidden in the subtle sighs and looks. I would go in and shut the door. And we'd sort it out like we used to. We'd end up ripping each other's heads off or hugging and apologize profusely about how we were such bitches and how we'd make it up to each other. There was no in between.