Summer [Completed]

Chapter One

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It's Not Me
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trep·i·da·tion

noun: trepidation

1. a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.

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"It's not me. It's you."

Wait, I said that wrong.

"It's not you. It's me."

Ugh. Now that just sounds like a lie.

I outwardly groan at my reflection before turning on the faucet and splashing water on my face.

I let the cold water wash over me for a moment before drying my face with the oversized sleep shirt that swallows my small form. I linger in the mirror and I analyze my appearance: two plain, brown eyes, one small, rounded nose, a mane of neat, shoulder-length curls, lips that are stuck somewhere between full and nonexistent.

Completely unremarkable. Painfully average.

A quiet yawn startles me and I jump slightly as my roomate comes shuffling into the restroom like a zombie.

Another yawn and she stretches, "Who you talkin to Mani?"

"Nobody." I don't meet her eyes in the mirror.

She sighs, annoyed, "I know you were doing the same thing you wake up early every morning to do."

I don't know why I even tried to lie to her. She knows me too well.

“If I was doing what you say I was doing —which I'm totally not. It's none of your business.”

She shakes her head, passing me as she grabs her toothbrush from its spot by the sink. “Just do it already. Break up with him and join the single side with me. I hear it's way more fun with a partner in crime." She nudges my shoulder playfully.

"And just how would we be single, if we're partners in crime?"

She rolls her eyes as she brushes her teeth, she spits, frothy suds linger on the corners of her mouth. "One: you know what I meant. Two: you're missing my point. You need this. You're young, smart, beautiful...Will is just holding you back...A free spirit deserves to be free."

"Ugh," I roll my eyes, "you always get so philosophical in the mornings."

"And you're always changing the subject," she rebuttles, turning off the faucet and wiping her mouth.

She's right.

"You know I'm right."

When I don't respond she crosses her arms and continues. “I mean why else would you do this same thing every single morning? You know, Einstein said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."