No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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IF I KNEW WHAT I WAS SIGNING UP FOR, I WOULD'VE RAN THE OPPOSITE WAY. After a painful walk to his street (only because the sun was glaring, sipping away at the last ounce of energy I had managed to bring with myself), I had to argue with the guard for ten minutes straight in attempts to let me in. According to him, plenty of girls wanted to "visit him for projects."
Or so I had been told.
If I'd have been observed properly, thick, violent smoke clouds could be seen lining my ears in pure frustration. The torture didn't stop there. Hell, it didn't even begin there. My feet had toppled a couple many steps behind when I let my eyes fall onto the grandiose of Evan's humble abode, and despite trying to brush it off, I knew I would look like a stupid misfit as soon as I entered the largely gated dream of a house.
Luck had been on my side for the first time, since the Gods above sent an angel for help—or, in specific, Linda—the caretaker, I'd assume, as she peeled my arm off my side and gave a slightly terrifying glare to the guard. I had glared at him in equal amounts too, just because he deserved all of it.
"Glad to meet you, dear," her smile had been contagious. "You must be Laura."
And that was all she had spoken to me before furiously dragging me inside.
My eyes had peered over my shoulder, and I had managed to look at the unending parapet on my head before giving up on breaking my neck. I'd have time looking around, I wished.
I met Evan's mother, then. Rosalie. Her hair had bounced carefully on her shoulders and eyes immediately flew to Linda, as if confirming if it was really me. There remained a strange uneasiness on her shoulders, much like it did on mine, but I could justify the awkwardness I carried. Hers, I couldn't pin-point. That, and how she looked nothing like Evan. Her eyes were dark like the soil, hair light, face heart shaped.
But when she'd started speaking, a couple giant knots in my stomach began to dissipate. Her voice was soft and welcoming, contrasting the complexity and uneasiness of the surroundings. She even offered me cookies, which I had to politely decline—all because I needed to see Evan. Introductions could've been less awkward if he was beside me, but he was nowhere in sight. Did he forget? Had I been too early?
It was 12 P.M. I was on time. I hadn't expected him to call me over anytime sooner than evening when I agreed to this, and when he had told me we'd be meeting at noon, pure dread engulfed me. Not because of anything in particular, however. My brain just seemed to be on autopilot this part of the day, and I was more annoyed than usual.
When Rosalie noticed I was growing more unsure every passing second, she pointed out exactly where Evan was, and followed it with something along the lines of him being too reckless. I had sighed back then, but that was just the start of all the troubles. If only I had known, I'd rather have taken up those cookies and spent the rest of the day talking to his mother instead.
