Mom cried herself incoherent on the day they dropped me off at college. In between the hiccups and tears and sudden bursts of laughter, I deciphered that she was proud of me and to call whenever I wanted. I swallowed the urge to remind her that I was three hours away by car, only two by train, as she hugged me tightly.

Dad gave me a brief, one-armed hug, told me to pick on people bigger than me, and added a gruff, "I love you."

What Dad lacked in emotional displays my mom more than made up for, but Dad was genuine in his affection.

Aside from transferring my belongings from the car to my dorm room and hooking up the television, I refused furthers offers of help and sent them on their way after mom had taken the obligatory first day of school picture.

It was early morning and my roommate had yet to arrive, allowing me freedom to assess the room and claim the bed least likely to be hit by the sunrise. Not having exchanged more than a handful of words over social media, I didn't know much about Amber Garry. We had been randomly assigned over the summer, but we were already Facebook friends so clearly we were destined to be inseparable. Right. If her social media profiles were even the slightest bit representative of her in real life, it would be an interesting co-habitation.

The room itself was cramped, dressed in neutral colors: bland wooden furniture, a gray mattress atop a skeletal black bed frame, boxed in by off-white cinderblock walls. It was industrial, built for efficiency not comfort, and was one of a dozen other identical rooms in this hallway. Looking at it, I couldn't help but be reminded of my hospital room with its stale, almost clinical feel. But I couldn't afford to think like that.

It's a canvas, I told myself. Blank. The fresh start you wanted. Among others, the upside to this room was that I could re-make it.

I set about putting my clothes away and making my bed with a black and white paisley comforter I had selected for my birthday. In hindsight something more colorful might have been better suited to breathing life back into the room, though I had never been one for bright hues. To cover the ugly stone walls I hung pictures of my family and friends along with a Breakfast Club poster and a "Keep Calm Carry On" frame that my mother had given me as a reminder.

In the last spot of visible wall, closest to the head of my bed, I smoothed the last picture into place, my fingers lingering a second on the face of my best friend.

I studied Danny's face, the way the light caught nearly invisible freckles on his cheeks and illuminated each out of place brown hair curled around his ears. His eyes, the color of faded jeans, were alive with laughter and even a small amount of cockiness—you couldn't have done the things he did without some. The angle his arm was slung over my shoulders showed off the definition in his biceps and neck.

It was a picture of vibrant youth—a never-ending adolescence that would never have the chance to gather more freckles like he gathered scars, to decide whether his hair should be long or short, to have that cockiness mold into wisdom, to trade muscle in favor of a long life.

He would have been moving into his own school today. I imagined his day would have followed a similar course to my own, in a nearly identical room with a sloppily-made bed and a few posters tacked to the wall, before he called me to see how I was doing, ready to discuss what new high-stakes adventure would kick off his year.

My breath caught in my chest for a moment looking at the curve of his mouth frozen in laughter, hearing the sound of it echo back from the depth of my buried memories. I was blinking away tears when the door to my room opened and broke my concentration.

A thin, overly-dyed blonde girl walked in dragging a suitcase. Her doe-like eyes swept the room, taking in my decorations, before coming to rest on me still kneeling on my lofted bed. The slant of her mouth told me she wasn't impressed.

"Hi," I said, trying to play friendly even though it wasn't my forte.

Her eyes flickered to my hair, and I saw another judgment pass across her features.

My hair was black. Not a tarry black from the bottle that you see on some people who "want a change" or misread the labeling, but a natural, shiny black. I had added a single strip of dark blue and a single strip of deep purple just behind my right ear the week before. In low lighting the colors were so dark they were barely visible, but when the sunlight caught them, they shimmered like the colors in an oil slick.

"You must be Amber," I said when she said nothing. "I'm Megan, but you can call me Dash."

"Dash?" she asked. Her voice curled around the word like a snake, drawing out the last syllable in such a way I actually thought she hissed it.

"It's a nickname," I said, resisting the urge to throw her attitude back in her face. The only thing that held me back was the fact I had to live with this girl for the rest of the year.

"Oh," she replied indifferently. What a gem, I thought.

She walked over to the empty bed and, without another word, began unpacking. Her parents came in soon after laden with more suitcases, her mother a carbon-copy of her right down to her shrewd gaze as she took me in.

Not wanting to go through more pleasantries I was sure were going to be wasted, I hopped off the bed and said, "I'm going to leave so I won't be in the way," and quickly exited the room. I set off across campus with the intent of finding Vanessa, a hometown friend who would be moving in for her junior year.

Walking across the grounds, I took a deep breath to settle my thoughts as I dodged other students and their parents. A familiar ache pressed down on my organs, accompanied as always by a throbbing in my temples as I shielded the glare of the sun with a hand.

Get ahold of yourself, I thought. My parents had only grudgingly allowed me go to school after the accident, believing that I needed more time to recover. It had taken me the whole summer to convince them, especially after the break-up, which they had taken as a relapse in my progress. Although to be fair to them, I hadn't explained the whole cheating back story which would have made things even worse. Now that I was here, I wasn't going to jeopardize my freedom.

It would have been quicker to drive to Vanessa who lived across campus in an upper classmen apartment building, but lacking a car (and having no desire to have one), I settled in for the twenty minute walk.

The campus of Central State was beautiful; the kind of pretty grounds they made sure to emphasize on postcards and brochures. Brick pathways veined through immaculate green grounds and stately gardens, leading to impressive buildings made of yet more brick. An open, grassy quad sat in the middle of the campus, wide enough to offer a brief sense of freedom, but quartered off by academic halls with their white columns and steepled roofs that said "higher learning takes place here." It was beautiful, but it wasn't unique.

People lounged around outside, enjoying the afternoon sunshine sprawled on towels, hanging in trees, or walking towards Main Street where an abundance of shops and restaurants enticed poor college students with their sales and cheap deals. Already familiar with the layout of the campus having visited Vanessa several times, I felt a smidge of confidence that I wasn't walking around in the dazed stupor of other freshmen.

The walk though, far from clearing my head, only reminded me of the last time I had been here: on a college tour with Danny and our parents. Again, the sensation of choking came over me and I hurried up the hill to Vanessa's apartment building in the hopes that I could outrun it.

"It's about time you got here!" shouted Vanessa, throwing open the door and squeezing the life out of me in a hug.

Vanessa Manning was a big girl in the vertical sense, and lean from her diligent workout regimen. Excluding weekends, she considered it a sin to skip a day at the gym. And so her hug enveloped my smaller frame into the curve of her body, as did her unruly, curly brown hair which smelled of strawberries.

An attention-grabber upon entering a room, Vanessa had no fear, no shame, and an impressive display of confidence and candor. Not to mention she had a penchant for yelling in Spanish whenever she was angry; a trait cultivated by her mother. It was a combination that enticed a lot of guys just to see if they could keep up, though she had finally weeded out all of the seedy ones to land someone who complimented her eclectic personality; her boyfriend, Kevin Sterling, who waved to me from the couch. I lifted a hand in greeting.

"How'd move in go? Did you meet your roommate? How are you?" she asked in rapid succession without drawing breath. Her greeting smile, white against her caramel skin, dimmed as her lips closed around her teeth and she gripped my shoulders, peering into my face like she was trying to look into my soul. I chose to ignore it.

"Mom cried like I was never coming back, and my roommate appears to be the spawn of Barbie and Godzilla. So let's just average the two and say move in went fine," I said nonchalantly.

Vanessa clucked her tongue. "That's too bad. You're always welcome to crash here if you want."

"Thanks, Van."

"So how have you been? I haven't seen you since..." Vanessa trailed off in the awkwardness of most people who didn't know how to put Danny's death into words.

"I've been good," I said quickly, walking by her on the pretense of inspecting her new apartment. It was styled in typical Vanessa fashion; a multitude of grays and whites with a hint of hot pink in the throw pillows, coasters, and frames. Everything that was fabric was selected in its fuzziest option.

A quick glance at Kevin showed that he was absorbed in the TV.

"It's hard not to think about him," I admitted quietly as Vanessa drew level with me. She offered me a small smile and took my hand, but seemed to pick up on my reluctance to talk.

"I know what will cheer you up," she said suddenly. Her face lit up with the prospect of the idea, her eyes and mouth pulling up with mischievous energy.

"What?" I asked suspiciously. Vanessa was intuitive when it came to most things, but sometimes her feel-good solutions were wildly off the mark.

"Kevin's friends are having a party tonight. You should come. Get fully initiated into the nightlife that is Central State."

"So you mean get shitfaced with a bunch of people I don't know."

"But who, after a few drinks, will be your best friends. Vodka has this great side effect of creating instant bonds with other girls in bathrooms."

"Yeah, why not?" I said shrugging.

"Great," she said. And seizing my hand, she dragged me towards her bedroom.

Later that night, the three of us made our way to Kevin's friend's apartment where the party was already in full swing. Music blared at top volume from surround sound speakers while people packed the crowded space, cramming onto couches and dancing atop tables, red solo cups held aloft. Loose limbs, glazed eyes, and sloppy smiles amid the darkness were hallmarks of drunken college kids celebrating the beginning of another year of freedom; it was the only time you saw kids excited to go back to school.

Vanessa and Kevin were somewhere among the crowd of dancers while I observed from my post leaning against a wall, drink in hand. I was trying hard not to think about Danny, and especially Chris who had texted me yet again, but it was difficult when the excitement from the party was waning and the alcohol had yet to really kick in. Draining the last of my second drink, I was about to go in search for a new one when a guy detached himself from the crowd and stepped up to me. A goofy but self-confident smile stretched across his face as he handed me another drink.

I took the can from him with a smirk and cracked it open. "How did you know?" I asked.

"Call it a hunch," he said. He too leaned against the wall, his head bent towards me. A hand reached up to brush his long blonde hair out of his blue eyes, though it wasn't in the way to begin with. "You look kinda bored," he observed, not unkindly.

I shrugged and took a sip, the carbonation tickling my nose. "Just taking a break," I said.

"Mind if I take a break with you?" he asked, smiling crookedly.

"Seems like you already are," I said, raising my beer can slightly to him.

I spotted Vanessa in a break in the crowd. She waved eagerly at me, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her gaze went to the guy next me and she gave me a poorly disguised wink.

"That your friend?" he asked, following my wave to Vanessa.

"That's her," I said, laughing.

"Pretty."

Kevin appeared at the precise moment, looking a little intoxicated himself, and pulled her back into the crowd.

"And she's taken," I giggled. The third drink seemed to be the differences as the last of my inhibitions melted away. A light and bubbly feeling came over me, the party taking on a new quality of fun.

"And what about you?" he asked, leaning even closer and smiling. "Are you taken?"

"Nope," I said. "Free as a bird." I wondered if that was still true with all of my memories weighing me down, but what the hell. I deserved to have fun tonight.

"Actually, she is taken," drawled a voice behind me.

I froze, the bubbles in my stomach turning to ice, falling and cracking and filling my abdomen with icicles. No, I thought. Not here. I whipped around to see Chris emerging from the crowd like some awful apparition. He took a swig of the beer in his hand as he walked over, crushed the can, and threw it to the floor. He stopped close enough that I could feel the heat of his body and smell the beer on his breath.

"Who's he?" asked the guy, sizing Chris up. Whatever credit I could have given him for refusing to be intimidated was lost amidst my outrage.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

Chris went to college only half an hour away, and he had friends that went here, but it never occurred to me that we would actually cross paths. Did he follow me here? Or was it sheer coincidence?

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Wearing that and talking to him," he continued gesturing to the tight black pants and low-cut top that Vanessa had coaxed me into wearing.

"That doesn't concern you, Chris," I snapped.

"Hey man, why don't you back off a bit," said the guy.

"You can get the hell away from my girlfriend before I break your nose," said Chris.

"You said you didn't have a boyfriend," he said, rounding on me instead.

"I don't!" I yelled. "We broke up!"

"Whatever," said the other. "You guys can figure your own shit out." And he walked away.

I turned on Chris, dropping my can which clattered to the floor, and balling my hands into fists. "You have no right to be here!"

"You haven't been answering," he accused.

"Hmm, I wonder why," I said mockingly, tapping my chin.

"Can't you at least let me explain?"

"Explain what, exactly? Let me guess, you tripped and fell on Charlotte and your clothes spontaneously combusted because you're both so full of hot air and bullshit?"

"God, Dash, will you just listen to me?" he yelled over. He took my arm and steered me towards a quiet corner in the hallway. I was so blind with rage I didn't try and resist. "Listen, I know I hurt you. God knows I've regretted every single thing I did while you were in the hospital. I know it sounds like bullshit but I didn't want to hurt you. I lost my best friend and I thought I was going to lose you too.I didn't know how to deal with it—"

"Oh, I see. Fucking Charlotte was the only obvious solution—"

"Dash, I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I know I can't take back what I did. But I love you, and I just miss you so fucking much. I'm asking for another chance, please," he said. He stepped closer, looking down at me with those eyes that had captured me in the first place.

An image of Danny came unbidden to my mind, throwing me off guard. I felt my breath catch in my throat like those pieces of glass that had flown through the air in the crash. Tears welled in my eyes, stinging like the alcohol in my stomach. I saw a flicker of hope—and victory—flash across Chris's face as he misinterpreted my sudden shift in emotion.

Bile and rage scorched my throat with the words I hurled from the pit of my stomach.

"I'd tell you to go to hell, Chris, but I don't want to see you there. So listen close when I say, fuck off, and I never want to see you again. Call up Charlotte to get over your broken heart and then find someone else who deserves you even more than she does."

I shoved him, breaking his grip on my arm, and walked back down the hall towards the rest of the party.

"Dash!"

I turned against my will, hoping he could feel the fire in my eyes.

He was smiling that shy-sly smile that I used to love. The sight of it made me sick.

"You're going to miss me eventually, you know. I made a mistake, just like you, and I'm willing to forgive you. I love you, and I know you love me. I know that losing Danny was hard on you, and that you're still not healed. I'm ready to be there for you like I should have been all along. And when you're ready to talk; I'll be waiting."

I laughed. "Don't hold your breath, Chris."

But even as I walked away, I felt his words latch onto my shadow. 

___________________________________________

Edited: This chapter was completely edited February 9th, 2017. Please let me know if you spot anything that needs fixing! :)

So there it is! Chapter 1. I know it's quite long, but the chapters get shorter from here. What did you think; is this the last we'll see of Chris? I'd love to hear your thoughts! And if you really liked it and want to make my day, click the nice little star button :) Happy reading!