The Time of Your Life || c.b

Seven

My mouth hung open. I had no words but I knew I had to answer. Colby gripped my arms gently, as if afraid I would crumble at any moment, but I stayed strong.

"Colby, I—"

"I'm worried because of those. I've seen so many people hurting themselves and I didn't want you to have to deal with that. Nobody deserves it," Colby explained, looking into my eyes with a small and sad smile.

"That's sweet, but—"

"Don't say you're 'totally fine' or whatever, 'cause you're not—"

"Colby, listen to what I have to say," I said quickly. I made sure he heard me but didn't have time to interrupt me again. "Where do you see any recent cuts on me?" I asked him, pushing my arms towards him.

He looked closely before looking back up. "They're all scars, but why does that—"

"I used to cut. Like, three years ago. I'm 19 now, I got help when I was 17. I've been clean for over two years, Colby. I'm okay. Actually, I've been happy for over two years. I don't feel the need to do those things to myself anymore," I explained softly. I was smiling now, remembering how hard it was to get better but also how well I had turned out. I'd been planning on getting a tattoo over my scars when I turned 20, but I hadn't figured out what to get.

Colby let go of my small wrists and sat down on his bed, running a hand through his hair. I could tell he didn't know whether to apologize or not, so I sat beside him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. I told him not to apologize and he didn't.

After setting up camp in Colby's room, I decided to spend the rest of my day doing what I had originally came to LA for: house hunting. I explained to everyone that although it would be nice to bring them along, it would be easier for me if I could go by myself. It was nice being around people who understood when I needed to be alone.

I set out around 2 o'clock. I looked at apartments and small houses and condos, but I couldn't find anything in my price range. Around 4, I was finishingr a tour at a small apartment about 20 minutes from the guys' mansion, which was a good location as I knew I would be starting to spend a lot more time there with everyone.

As I got into the elevator to leave, a man stood there with me. He was probably about the same age as I was. He had long and curly hair down to his shoulders, and piercing ice blue eyes. He was average height and fairly thin. He had a gentle-looking face. Not to mention, in a pair of olive-green colored jeans and a long white t-shirt with a rose embroidered on the breast pocket, I had to admit that his style was nice. I would say he noticed me staring, but he didn't. He was staring straight back at me.

"Do you live in this building?" he asked. He must have just been staring because he didn't recognize me.

I shook me head. "Nah, I've been looking at apartments," I replied.

"Ahh, any luck? This place is pretty nice, even though it's kinda on the more expensive side." I shook my head again. I was still in a trance looking at this man. He was gorgeous.

"Are you going to UCLA?" he asked me this time.

"Yeah, actually. I'm going for photography," I answered. "Do you go there?"

"It'll be my freshman year this year. I'm actually going for an Arts major."

We continued our conversation in the lobby of the apartment building. I learned that his name was Warren Keening and he had moved here from some place called New Brunswick in Canada. He said it's a province. I also learned that he was a professional Lacrosse player, which was pretty cool.