Fate's Cruelty

Chapter Six: A Truck Kind of Girl

Chapter Six: A Truck Kind of Girl

                “What?” I choked out.

                “M-Maybe it wasn’t him!” Paisley stuttered, seeing the panic in my eyes. She probably thought I was panicking because the guy who literately broke me was in the same town as me, no, that wasn’t the reason. The reason why I was panicking was because someone else saw him too.

                Countless of times these past few days I had thought that it had been only my imagination. That I was so drunk that I had only imagined that Ethan was back in town, but no- I was wrong. He really had been there at that party. He really was the one that I had been pushed into and he had really been the one to grip my wrist in the crowd.

                Ethan Gage was really here. He was in Lubbock, going to the same university as I was.

                I shook my head, “No, it was him.” I told her.

                “What?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

                I gulped, swallowing the saliva that I had in my mouth along with the lump of jumbled words that had gotten stuck in my throat. “It was him. You really did see Ethan at that party.”

--

                “I have one class today but it lasts until noon then I have work.” I told Gracie as I pulled my hair up into a pony tail.

                “So what time do you get out of work?” she asked mimicking my actions.

                “Like four, four-thirty at the latest.” I answered her fixing my bangs, “Why?”

                “Just wondering,” she said smiling as she finished applying some mascara. “Do you want to ride with me or are you taking your own car?” she asked tossing the black tube into her make-up bag.

                “I’ll take my own car,” I told her as I fixed my eye shadow and added a small amount of lip gloss to my lips.

                Fixing my bangs one last time I flashed Grace a smile, blew her a kiss through the mirror and walked out of my bathroom, “Text you later hooker!” I threw over my shoulder before grabbing my bag and keys off of my bed and heading downstairs.

--

                Writing On The Walls by Underoath played through my speakers as I drive towards the university. It was around eight in the morning and the rush had somewhat finished as I drove down the streets of Lubbock. My first and only class for today started at nine and ended at noon.

                Most college classes weren’t three hours long but since I was going for my CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) certification, the class itself was three hours long, for a whole semester I would be in lectures for three hours Monday through Friday, 9AM-12PM. This semester I would be taking two classes, my nursing class along with a writing one- something I liked to do on my free time.

                Ten minutes later I parked in an empty parking space, shut off the engine and slid out of my truck, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I pressed the lock button on the remote and shoved the keys into my front pocket of my black skinny jeans.

                Making my way through the familiar campus I took out the piece of paper that I had printed with my schedule for today and looked it over.