Raegan

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

It’s a steady rhythm that calms me down while I’m running. Everything falls from my mind when I run. Instead of thinking about Travis, Stella, or Jax, I concentrate on my breathing.

My lungs inhale the air, filling until I feel an ache, and then push the air out, freeing it back into the world. My feet tread across the pavement, turning into the music that greets my ears.

Tranquil and at ease.

Running makes all my problems seem like tiny specs of dirt instead of a giant pile of crap.

I can feel my cheeks burning, protesting the cold air hitting them with each stride forward. Perspiration coats my forehead, and breathing becomes increasingly more difficult, the harder I push myself. I don’t see anything when I run. The world turns to a blur, except for the three feet ahead of me.

When I have the driveway in my sights, I run faster, moving closer to the finish line. I make it to the door and bend over at the waist, catching my breath the best I can. Using my sweatshirt—mine, not Travis’s—I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Inside the house, I kick off my shoes and am greeted with a smiling Arya, cuddled up on the couch with a blanket.

“How was your run?” Arya asks, her eyes at half-mast.

“Great,” I huff out, letting the hint of citrus invade my nose. “I see you’re just waking up.”

“You know me, not one to rise with the sun.” She rubs her eyes on a yawn.

I let out a halfhearted laugh, knowing she’s telling the truth. Arya would rather sleep all day and stay up all night. If she didn’t have work this morning, she would be dead to the world.

“I’m gonna shower. I have to leave soon for class.”

“Don’t forget to dress cute for all those guys wandering around campus.” She crosses her arms, intending to look menacing, but she just looks like a grump instead.

I step closer to her, patting her head with my sweaty hand. “Yeah, that’s at the top of my priority list.” I swear all she thinks about is boys, and right now, I have no intention of falling victim to another guy.

She swats me away. “Haven’t you learned by now that I’m always right?”

I raise a brow. “Always?” I question. “Even that time you thought it was a good idea to wear a miniskirt while roller-skating in seventh grade?”

“I’m the one who went home with Adam’s phone number.” She points a finger at me. “You, on the other hand, went home with a black eye.”

“You only got his number because everyone saw the thong you were sporting, and you’re the one who gave me a black eye when you fell down in the middle of the rink, taking me down with you.”

She laughs. “It was worth it.”

“Maybe to you,” I grumble.

Rolling her eyes, she says, “Go shower. You smell like a dumpster.”

I bend over the couch, wrapping my arms around her as tight as I can. She pushes me away, and I rush up the stairs, satisfied she smells as bad as I do.

The door to my English class appears in sight, but I freeze in the middle of the hallway, causing someone to run into me from behind.

What is Travis doing here?

I feel like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, leaving me in shock before the rage takes over.

Travis stands off to the side, his eyes following the students roaming by him. I watch him check out every girl who struts past him. He’s not even pretending to hide it. His gaze lingers on their chests before moving to their asses, and my mouth curls up in disgust, like I took a gulp of sour milk. I wonder if he did that the whole time we were together, and I never noticed.

I bet he did.

I shoulder through the crowd, moving closer and closer to him, wishing he were a figment of my imagination.

When he finally sees me, he strolls toward me with a smirk, confidence radiating from him, like he knows I’ll take him back.

Not happening.

No matter how much I want Stella, I refuse to crawl back to Travis to make that happen. I won’t sacrifice any more of myself than I already have.

I’ve had a lot of time to reevaluate what Travis and I had together and how it all came to a screeching halt in the middle of a summer storm. We were a fatal car crash waiting to happen. When we collided, it broke us beyond repair. He can’t fix it, no matter how much he wants to.

“Why are you here?” I seethe when he stops in front of me.

“I want to talk.” He takes a step toward me, but I take one back, keeping the same distance between us. “We can work this out.”

“No, we can’t,” I say, unwavering. When is he going to give up?

I attempt to maneuver around him, but he prevents me from escaping, grabbing the top of my arm, yanking me to him. I’m trying to keep calm, but my temper is quickly emerging.

“Yes, we can,” he says, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “All you have to do is forgive me and come back home—where you belong.”

Belong?

I never belonged in that house to begin with. It was suffocating. Every day, I fought to breathe, fought to be perfect. It was an unattainable goal. I was never going to be perfect, keeping the house clean and him happy, all the while remembering who I was in the process. In the end, I forgot what I’d wanted and turned into the girl who only sought to make her boyfriend happy.

I writhe in his grasp, struggling to pull away from him.

Travis wrenches me closer, holding my body against his chest. “You’re not good enough for anyone else,” he whispers in my ear.

I fight the urge to bring my hand to his face, leaving a mark across his cheek.

“Don’t you want Stella back?”

I freeze, my face going slack as my body slumps against his.

Holding me up by the arm he’s still gripping, he steps back with a satisfied smirk.

I regain my composure, trying to break free. “I do, but I’m not getting back together with you to get her.”

He chuckles low, sounding maniacal. “Guess I’ll find another home for her then.”

“No, you won’t!” I yell, my vision blinded by red.

“Everything all right?” someone asks from behind me.

Travis drops my arm and backs away from me faster than I can blink. Blood rushes to my arm, leaving it tingling, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he left a bruise on my body that would be there for days.

“It is now.” I shove past Travis, not looking back, refusing to let his words bother me.

I wonder when it got this way, when he turned into a guy who thought he owned me.

“Hey.” Someone touches my arm, and I instinctively flinch. “Sorry.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “Are you okay?”

I squint at the guy standing next to me, noting his short blond hair and deep brown eyes, as he shifts on his feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I shuffle into class, collapsing on my chair, ready for this day to be over.

He raps his knuckles against my desk, grabbing my attention. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Before he can disappear, I touch his hand, stopping him. “What’s your name?”

“Nathan,” he says with a weak smile.

“Thank you, Nathan.” Who knows how long I would have been in the hallway, fighting off Travis, if he hadn’t come along.

“Anytime.” He heads to his desk, one row behind me.

Leaning over, I take paper and a pencil out of my bag, settling in my seat, as Professor Crane walks through the door.

The professor goes on for an hour, and I have a hard time paying attention, my mind reeling from what Travis said. It’s not enough that I caught him cheating, but he’s trying to deepen the wound, taking Stella away from me.

Maybe that’s what he was doing all along, and I never recognized the signs. He stripped me, stealing pieces of who I was without my knowledge. I think he wanted someone he could control, and I can’t believe I let him manipulate me for so long.

I’m not sure how Arya kept from kicking my ass each day I stayed with Travis. If I was her, I wouldn’t have had as much self-control. To her credit, she did try to talk sense into me daily. I just didn’t want to hear it.

Class is dismissed before I have time to take a single note, and I wince at the fact that I’m behind yet again. At this rate, I’m going to fail this class regardless if Jax helps me or not.

Shoving everything in my bag, I haphazardly zip it and fling it over my shoulder. I jump out of my seat, heading in the opposite direction of traffic, my sights set on one person.

Jax lazily strolls down the stairs of the auditorium with his arm draped over a brunette. I stop in front of him, not caring what I’m interrupting, my irritation with Travis flooding my actions. I stare at Jax, waiting for him to acknowledge me, much like the first day I met him.

His damn gray eyes appraise me despite the fact he has a girl tucked under his arm. My body betrays me, igniting to life as his eyes leave a trail of fire across my skin. He unknowingly traps me, the smirk on his face liquefying me.

“Not this time, babe. I’m busy.” He shoos me away with his hand, as if I were nothing more than an annoying fly.

I stiffen, coming back to reality. “Like I would be caught dead anywhere near your bed,” I scoff. “We need to talk about our project.” I cross my arms.

“Don’t worry; I can handle it.” He removes his arm from around the girl, grabbing her hand and maneuvering around me.

“I’m sorry, but my grade depends on this as much as yours, so we are working together,” I say, following behind him.

“I’ve got better things to do.” He looks over at the brunette, regarding her much the same way Travis did every female who strolled past him in the hall earlier.

I hate the fact that I have to deal with someone who appears to be exactly like the guy I spent so much time fawning over.

Before Jax can escape the room, I snatch his wrist, detaching him from the brunette and cornering him into the nearest wall. “Listen here,” I say. “We’re working together.” I glance down at his front pants pocket, noticing a bulge, and I stick my hand inside without asking for permission.

He places a hand on my shoulder, using me as a crutch instead of trying to fend me off. “Whoa, babe. If you want it that bad, we can go to the nearest restroom.”

Ignoring him, I yank out his phone and open his Contacts. I quickly type in my number, saving it before I send myself a text. I jab his phone in his chest. “When I call, answer.” I storm away without another word.

Are there any decent guys in the world?

Jax and Travis are one in the same, and I silently curse my professor for pairing me up with him.

“That guy is an asshole,” Nathan says, appearing next to me.

I slant my eyes over to him as he walks with me down the hallway. “Tell me about it,” I mutter.

“Why were you talking to him anyway?” He adjusts his backpack on his shoulder, accidentally brushing my arm. He quickly steps away, presumably afraid I’ll react the same way I did the first time he touched me.

“He’s my partner,” I say snippier than I intended.

“Ouch.” He opens the door in front of us that leads into the courtyard outside, holding it open for me.

I smile in thanks.

“I can’t stand the guy,” he says with venom. “He doesn’t have to work for anything. Lucky bastard.”

“He’s going to have to work with me. There’s no way I’m failing a class my senior year because of him.”

He stares at me, as if I’m missing something, but I ignore it. “So, you’re a senior. What are you going to do when you graduate?”

I pause. People always judge me when I answer this question. “Fine arts. Before you say anything, I know artists make jack shit, but I love photography.”

I’ve always wanted to be a photographer. From the moment my mom put a Polaroid camera in my hands, I’ve been in love. A camera is an extension of myself, a thing I never knew I was missing until I had it.

“I was going to say, I think that’s awesome. I’m majoring in business, but that’s only because my dad wants me to take over his business when I graduate.” His face sours, like he isn’t pleased with the idea.

My parents have supported every decision I’ve made. They’ve never told me I’m crazy for pursuing my dream, and they’ve never pressured me to go into a field that would guarantee me a job. They’ve always been my cheerleaders, encouraging me at every turn.

I nod my head, unsure of what to say to his admission. “I’ve gotta go.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “My next class is on the other side of campus in ten minutes.”

“Well, uh, I’ll see you around.” He nervously shuffles on his feet.

I back away and wave good-bye. “Thanks again for earlier,” I say before turning away from him.

If I were Arya, I would have demanded his phone number and placed a kiss on his cheek, but I’m not, so I leave Nathan standing in the middle of the courtyard, alone.

After my last class, I walk home, wishing Stella were with me.

The way she clawed at Travis’s arm when I drove away had every muscle in my body aching to run back to her. I imagine it’s akin to what a parent feels when they leave their firstborn child at daycare for the first time.

I let Arya convince me to drive away, and as much as I hate her for it, I understand because there was nothing I could have done, not when Travis had his dirty hands wrapped around Stella.

After what he said to me today, I know I have to get her back as soon as I can. I have to save her before she’s gone for good. I just need to figure out how.

When I amble through the front door, Arya is sitting in the same spot I left her in when I went to class this morning, except she’s dressed in her work uniform. She works part-time at the campus bookstore. It’s not the most exhilarating job, but she gets a discount, which is worth the boring hours she spends there.

I drop my bag and plop on the couch next to her. Letting out a sigh, I snuggle into the couch, letting the warmth comfort me.

“That bad, huh?” Arya asks, throwing a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

“You have no idea.” I steal a handful of popcorn and shovel as much as I can in my mouth, letting the extra fall on my shirt.

“Lay it on me.” She gives me her full attention, muting whatever movie she’s watching.

I spill my guts because that’s what happens when you’ve been friends for more than fifteen years; you don’t leave anything left unspoken.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get Nathan’s number,” she gasps.

“Really, Arya? That’s the first thing you say after everything I just told you?” I scowl at her, disappointed, but I should know better. She’s my rock, but sometimes, I wish she gave better advice.

“What do you want me to say?” She shrugs. “Travis is a jackass, using Stella against you and showing up outside of your class like a stalker. But look at it this way; you got to meet a hot guy.” She slaps her hand on my knee. “I’m going to have to teach you how to be more forward.”

“Don’t bother,” I breathe out. “I’m not interested in finding a guy, not anytime soon.”

Her mouth turns down, like she’s realizing for the first time that I was crushed by a guy I thought was the one for so long.

God, was I wrong.

“Text Jax,” she says, changing the subject. “Annoy the shit out of him until he caves, and I don’t think it would hurt to talk to your professor. Maybe he’ll make an exception and let you work alone.”

It doesn’t hurt to try. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and open my email. I type out a message to my professor, asking if I can work solo on my project, claiming personal reasons are preventing me from working with my partner.

I press Send, and before I can close out of my email, a reply from my professor pops up. I read his response.

You must work with your assigned partner. In the real world, Ms. Winters, your boss won’t care what is happening in your personal life. They will expect your work to be done the way you were instructed to do so. Consider this a life lesson.

“Harsh,” Arya says, reading over my shoulder.

I scowl, closing out the email, feeling like all hope is lost and knowing I’m going to be doing a lot of work the rest of the semester.

“Everything is going to come together,” Arya assures me.

I find it hard to believe her when it feels like the world has been against me since I walked out on Travis.

I tap the Messages on my phone, deciding to text Jax regardless of how dejected I feel. Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get through to him.

My fingers make quick work of flying over the keyboard on my phone.

Me: Are you ready to work on our project?

A minute later, I send another.

Me: You can get laid later. :)

He doesn’t answer, but I can see that he has read both of them.