Chapter Theme Song: “all the good girls go to hell” by Billie Eilish.
The day breaks, bright and clear. Sunlight spills through the open window, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.
I blink sleepily at the clock on the wooden table next to me.
7:05 a.m.
I have class at eight. I can’t afford to be late on my first day, even though my eyes are heavy and my body feels like it’s been running non-stop. I have to muster the energy to get up.
I knew going to that orientation party last night was a mistake. Starting the term feeling sluggish isn’t ideal.
I managed to resist peer pressure all through high school, so I’m not sure why I let my roommate talk me into going to that party.
It wasn’t really an orientation—at least, not the kind I’m used to. All I got out of it was a weird guy staring at me like I had something on my face.
Stripping in front of a crowd of screaming girls has nothing to do with Homewood’s curriculum. I don’t see how it’s going to help me get my degree. This college is strange.
A hand sprawled over the top bunk tells me April is still asleep.
I had my heart set on the top bunk, but after seeing a huge spider on the headboard last night, I decided I’d rather deal with a little squeaking than bugs.
I reach for my duffel bag on the floor and start rummaging for something to wear to class. I settle on a beige skirt and a white long-sleeved top.
I get out of bed, wincing at the cold tiles as I tiptoe to the bathroom. It’s a small space with a shower, a toilet, a sink, and a white wooden cabinet.
I put my clothes on a small table in the corner and quickly undress.
I brush my teeth and step into the shower, sighing as the cool water cascades over me.
Morning showers are the best. They rejuvenate the spirit and provide a moment of quiet reflection before the day begins. I’m going to need all the energy I can get today.
College is a whole different ball game from high school. I know it’s going to take some serious effort to adjust to the new curriculum and environment.
It’s especially hard for someone like me who gets nervous around new people. I’m not a fan of change.
After a long moment of introspection, I turn off the shower and get out. I dry off, get dressed, and leave the bathroom with my dirty clothes in hand.
April is finally awake and making her bed. I smile as I put away my clothes.
“Good morning.”
She turns around and looks me up and down. I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny.
“Good morning. Are you wearing that to class?”
I frown, looking down at my clothes. “Uh...yeah. Why?”
There’s nothing wrong with my outfit. I always dress modestly, covering my legs and chest. I think it’s better to leave something to the imagination.
“Nothing...” She presses her lips together. “Nothing at all.”
“Do I look weird?”
“No, no. You just look...different...from the people here.”
I tilt my head, confused, and she smiles. “It’s not a bad thing. I just think you’re modest, that’s all.”
I smile. “Thank you. Should I wait for you?”
She shakes her head, climbing down from her bed and stretching. “No, we don’t have the same classes anyway and I don’t want you to be late. We can catch up later.”
“Sure?” I ask, trying to be polite, but secretly hoping she’ll say no.
“Yeah, I’m sure. See you later.”
“Okay, bye.” I smile, grabbing my backpack from the floor and waving awkwardly before heading out.
So far, the classes are painfully dull. I’m not sure what I expected from college, but it’s not living up to the hype.
People make it sound so amazing—maybe that’s why my expectations were so high. Or maybe I’m the one who needs to loosen up a bit.
I’m an English major with a deep love for literature, music, and art. I wish I could study all of them at once, but I know I have to choose one for now.
My mom thinks you don’t need a degree in art or music. She believes those talents are innate, not learned.
I’m sitting in English class, diligently copying the notes Mr. Jones is writing on the board. The door to the lecture hall opens and half the class turns to look.
My eyes widen when I see Blaze Xander.
I quickly look back at the board, my handwriting shaky as I remember the warnings the girls gave me last night.
“Hello.”
I look up to see him pulling out a chair at the table next to me. It scrapes loudly against the floor, drawing a disapproving look from the professor.
Blaze doesn’t seem to care. He sits down next to me with a big grin. “So nice to see you here.”
His scent from last night fills the air-conditioned room, and he’s even more striking in the daylight.
Today, he’s dressed in a green long-sleeved shirt that fits him perfectly and black jeans that hug his frame. A small silver necklace rests around his neck and both ears are decorated with small hoop earrings.
His dark hair is short on the sides with thick black curls on top, and his lips are so red that I’m convinced he’s wearing lip gloss.
I’m not sure how to respond to his greeting, so I refocus on my notebook and continue taking notes.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, not saying a word, and he pulls his book from his bag as he speaks again. “How old are you?”
“You look, like, sixteen,” he continues. “Or fifteen at the least.”
I look a lot younger than my age; it’s something I really hate.
When you’re petite, people take it as an invitation to try to walk all over you. It happened a few times in high school and I’m not about to let it happen again in college.
“I’m eighteen,” I clarify.
He grins widely then pretends to look shocked. His blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “Woah, and she speaks.”
His dimples are back, and my cheeks turn pink for some strange reason. I look back down at my notebook, gripping my pen tighter. He makes me feel really weird.
“Your voice is sexy,” he comments.
My body stiffens as a blush spreads over my face. No one has ever used that word to describe me before. Sexy is just not a fitting adjective for someone like me. Short, tiny, quiet, reserved—but sexy? It’s strange.
I look up at him and he’s now focusing on his notebook as he opens it.
I catch a glimpse of a beautifully drawn animation on a page, and as he’s about to turn it, I impulsively grab his hand.
He looks at me with wide eyes and I pull back, embarrassed that a simple drawing pulled me out of my shell.
When it comes to my creative interests, my brain tends to make decisions without my permission. I annoy myself sometimes with how sudden and awkward my actions can be.
The corner of Blaze’s lips curl up in a smile. “You wanna see?”
I nod a little and he pushes the book across to me.
I stare at the artwork in awe. It’s of the Japanese anime character Naruto. I can tell, but half of his face is smiling and the other half looks...sad?
Did he draw this? It’s incredibly creative. Each line is perfect, with no sign of hesitation or lack of skill, and his color saturation is clean and well defined.
I wouldn’t expect this talent from someone with his social status and appearance.
“Is this yours?” I ask, and he nods, twirling his pen between his fingers skillfully.
“Yeah, you like it?”
I smile a little. Like? I love it. I stare at the drawing, getting lost in the emotions it evokes.
The image looks happy yet undeniably sad as if it’s portraying an emotional battle within oneself. It’s deep. I’m not sure why, but I really like it a lot.
He’s incredibly talented. Just like me. Maybe we could be friends?
Or maybe not.
I close the book and slide it back to him, biting my lip as I drop my gaze back to my notebook.
He smiles. “Tell you what,” he begins, and I look at him. “Come to my room later and I’ll teach you how to draw that. We could work on some art pieces together too.”
He sees my eyes narrow, and he chuckles. “It’s not what you think. Look, April’s words must have scared you off last night, but I’m not that bad.”
I find it strange that out of all the places on campus he chose his room as the most suitable location.
I blink at him silently, and he sighs. Oddly, his eyes don’t reflect his frustration despite his sigh. They have a distant look in them, a vacant glint that I can’t quite put my finger on.
He places his hands behind his head, leaning back comfortably. “I guess the girls ruined my image.”
It’s not fair for someone to tell you whether or not you should interact with someone without you getting a chance to know them for yourself. I know that, but I just don’t think it’s right to be in a guy’s dorm.
“It’s not because of April,” I explain. “I just don’t think that it’s a good idea to be in a guy’s room...alone.”
Finally, his eyes show some emotion as a hint of surprise flashes across his irises. He nods, smiling calmly. “Okay, noted.”
I purse my lips and return my gaze to the board as I continue writing, and he stays silent after that.
I sneak a glance at him every ten seconds, and he’s either doodling on the smooth, spotless desk, playing with the ring on his finger, or humming something under his breath—anything but taking notes.
His page has been blank this whole time, while I’m onto my fifth page of notes. Everyone is different though. Maybe he learns by listening.
Class finally ends and students rise from their seats as I stuff my notebook into my bag.
He doesn’t seem disappointed that I turned down his request; he seems nonchalant and unfazed. Maybe he has someone else he can draw with?
Judging by how the first years were going crazy for him last night, I guess he has several other options. I’m sure the tiny redhead would jump at the opportunity.
I zip up my backpack as Mr. Jones looks up at me from his desk. “Uh, excuse me, miss…?”
“Skye,” I fill in. “Harmony Skye.”
He smiles and waves me over. “Come here for a minute.”
As he adjusts his baggy pants, I sling my backpack over my shoulders and walk over to him.
He scratches his nose and glances towards the door, probably checking to see if the classroom is empty.
“I noticed you sitting next to Blaze Xander today,” he begins, and I instinctively pull my sleeves down, a nervous habit of mine.
“Uh, okay...,” I mumble when he doesn’t continue.
He chuckles, revealing the wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. He’s middle-aged, with thick black hair streaked with white.
“Don’t look so scared, Skye. I just think you should steer clear of boys like him.”
“May I ask why?” I ask, and he sighs.
“He doesn’t have good intentions. Just be careful of him. I know he’s handsome and charming but that’s his weapon. You’re a first-year so you may not know.”
I’m not one to judge, but they’ve known him much longer than I have, so taking their advice would be the smart move.
I nod. “Oh, okay...”
He smiles and gestures to the door, and I turn around and leave.
“April!” I whine dramatically, wrapping my arms around her neck from behind as she stands in line to get her food. “The cafeteria is out of burgers.”
She rolls her eyes and wriggles out of my embrace. “You and your burgers. Why don’t you just become a burger and eat yourself?”
“I’ve got girls to do that for me.” I grin, then turn my attention to the woman behind the counter who’s been serving our lunches for two years now.
She looks about thirty and her hair is always hidden under a black hairnet. The large apron hides her figure, but I can tell she’s got a good one under the white fabric.
“Good morning, Pat.” I lean on the counter, raising my eyebrows as I look at her.
Her cheeks turn pink, but she pretends to be annoyed, rolling her eyes as she stirs the pot of mac and cheese. I do this every lunch period and she never drops the act.
It’s okay though; I can see right through it.
“I like your apron. It suits you,” I add, smiling at her obvious discomfort.
Tia shakes her head, amused. “Leave the lady alone. What’s wrong with you, Xander?”
“He’s the devil’s son,” Yuna adds.
Pat continues to focus on her work and I tap my fingers on the counter, keeping my gaze on her. She keeps her head down to avoid my eyes.
“I’ll come back to check on you tomorrow, okay?”
She blushes at this, and I chuckle quietly as I turn around, leaning against the counter as James slides between me and April, throwing his arm around her.
“I like your skirt, April. It suits you.”
James loves to recycle my pickup lines. I just used that one on Pat. I look at him and pretend to feel sorry for him while my cousin sucks her teeth, shrugging his arm off.
“Get your hand off me, James.”
“Hey, where’s Harmony?” Yuna asks, and I immediately start scanning the noisy cafeteria.
The girl intrigues me. Mainly because she seems too innocent. The world is a balanced yin-yang, a mix of both good and evil.
Humans have a combination of both inside them—except me, who only has one side of the coin—so there’s no way a person can be completely innocent or “good.”
Life has been fucking boring for me these past few months, and this new girl has an aura that my demons are dying to play with.
I’m determined to break her shell; it’ll be fun for me, and the fact that I can’t feel an ounce of empathy will make this a lot more exciting.
“Yeah, where’s your friend?” I ask, and April turns to me, crossing her arms over her chest. That’s her lecture stance, but her scoldings usually go in one ear and out the other.
“Blaze, I already warned you, stay away from Harmony. You know it won’t be good if you hang around her.”
I run a hand through my hair, and it falls back into my eyes stubbornly. “Look, I just want to enlighten her. Show her what happens when she walks around Homewood looking like the Virgin Mary.”
James laughs. “But she is the Virgin Mary, judging by how conservative she dresses.”
I chuckle, and April shakes her head, taking her tray from Pat with a soft “thanks.” Her eyes land on me and I wink subtly. She looks away and moves on to serve the next order while April frowns at me.
“You two—you and James—are just two heartless and detestable creatures. Don’t let me see you around Harmony, Blaze. She’s not your type, and I can assure you that you’re definitely not hers.”
“Nonsense. I’m everyone’s type.” I fight back a smirk and she rolls her eyes as she walks to her usual table at the back of the room.
Yuna and Tia are next in line to get their lunches, and my eyes find a familiar petite figure entering the cafeteria.
Harmony.
She looks around uncertainly as if searching for somewhere to sit, and I notice a wrapped sandwich and small boxed milk in her hand. I didn’t know people our age still drank from those small juice boxes.
Yuna grabs my arm as I start to move toward Harmony. “Leave her alone,” she warns.
I chuckle. “Chill out, Yuna. Enjoy your lunch.” I shake off her grip and head toward Harmony, ignoring Yuna’s glare.
Everyone knows I’m as stubborn as they come. When someone tells me what to do, I usually nod, say ‘Sure,’ and then do whatever the hell I want anyway.
I’m not great at following orders.
I don’t get why they can’t just let me be. I’m not always trouble—just most of the time.
Harmony spots me approaching and quickly turns to leave the cafeteria. I can’t help but laugh as I follow her, hands in my pockets. “Hey, Harmony.”
She stops at the sound of my voice, then slowly turns to face me. We’re alone in the quiet hallway now, and she looks at me, puzzled.
Her green eyes hold a hint of fear, something I noticed last night. Is she not used to guys?
Finally, she speaks, her voice soft and sweet. “Can I help you with something?”
I shrug. “You could join us for lunch.”
She shakes her head, turning me down for the second time today. “I prefer to eat alone.”
“Okay...” I nod, slowly moving closer to her. “What else do you do alone?” I stop just short of her, and she instinctively steps back, putting some distance between us.
She clutches the small box in her hand, and I can’t help but notice. I don’t know why I seem to intimidate people so much. It’s starting to get to me...or maybe not.
“Do you sleep alone too?”
I laugh. “I mean, do you have a boyfriend?”
She looks surprised, but answers, “No.”
“Great.” I smile, looking straight into her green eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, and I point to the open milk carton in her hand.
“Can I have a sip?”
She looks at the carton, then back at me, blinking in disbelief. She seems shocked that I’d ask something like that—but I’m not like most people, and I brush my teeth regularly, so it’s fine.
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her answer, and she swallows before nodding.
I take the carton from her, our fingers brushing in the process. That wasn’t on purpose.
I keep my eyes on hers as I take a sip from the straw.
She watches me, looking nervous, and I think she might be blushing.
I hand the carton back to her and she stares at the straw, lost in thought.
“We just kissed,” I say, and she looks at me, startled.
“W-what?”
I try not to laugh at her horrified expression as I point to the carton. “We just shared an indirect kiss. You drank from the straw, and then I did. So, we basically kissed, right?”
Her cheeks turn bright red and I can’t help but smile. Soon she’ll be wrapped around my finger, or my fingers will be inside her...whichever comes first.
Blushing means someone’s into you, right? That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. I’m not exactly an expert on feelings and emotions.
Deciding I’ve done enough for today, I give her a small smile. “Thanks for the drink. I liked it. See you around, green eyes.”
I turn and head back to the cafeteria, leaving her standing there, frozen.
