Chapter 1 - In case

In Case

"Bailey!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. Samuel was speed walking down the hall - clutching dozens of scattered papers and carelessly dropping them as he tried to catch up with me.

"Samuel? I can't believe you're on time today!" I exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm; Sam wasn't exactly an early morning kind of guy.

"I know right, I can barely believe it

myself," he shot me a smile before turning around to pick up several notes that had fallen out of his flimsy arms, much to the annoyance of the passing group of second years - who clearly did not have time to avoid tripping over him and his untreasured lecture notes.

Samuel stood himself up at last, handing his papers over for me to sort out; not that I was the neatest of people. In fact, by what I was wearing today, my disorderly characteristics were, let's say.... visible, to the extremes.

It started off with my odd socks, which were not only completely different patterns and colours but also different lengths, the crisis just expanded from there, ending with my face: Last night's mascara, absolutely nada of jewellery and to top it all off... the one and only scruffy bun! (Which, by the way, was slowly and cruelly becoming a signature fashion icon for me), sigh, what would my aunt say if she saw me now?

Taking a closer look at me, Samuel's facial expression changed.

"Bailey, what happened to you?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, feeling an insult coming on. At the end of the day, this was Samuel who I was talking to.

"I mean you never told me that you just got whacked by a bus!"

Chuckling to himself, Sam examined me intensely, eyebrows creased. The guy was always trying to use his Psychology skills on me, a course that he's been studying since last September. Knowing this, you'd think he'd be a bit better at reading people - especially his so called best friend.

However in my eyes, we weren't what I considered to be best friends. No one was my best friend, I refused to go through that again. All the responsibilities that that kind of relationship had - the corny texts, the promises that were just waiting to be broken, all the cheesiness; it just wasn't worth the time and the effort for me.

Instead, I labelled Samuel as more of a brother, a loyal companion. Although I do not put emphasis of the 'loyal' bit. Not that Samuel can't be trusted - he's a great guy. But you know, just in case he decides to turn on me one day, I refuse let my guard down.

My 'loyal companion' had been examining me for quite some time now, still not able to come to a conclusion.

"I had a late night Samuel, it's not rocket science."

Eureka! "Ah" was all he said before pausing.

"And... Are you trying out a new style or something?" He asked curiously, discretely glancing at my socks.

"No Sam, I stayed round Abbi's last night. This was the best I could do, I'm afraid."

"Well let's hope you don't bump into Aunt Fashionista" He joked, referring to my Aunt Helen, who was obsessed with image, specifically mine as it constantly seemed.

"Yeah, well anyway, I'm about 10 minutes late to my lecture, so I'll catch you later ?"

"See you then" he said, sounding a bit disappointed for whatever crazy reason.