"Cait?" My roommate Valerie shook my shoulder, oblivious to the earbuds hidden under my hair, and startled me out of my zen moment. "Cait! Snap out of it!"

I tugged out an earbud, opening my eyes, and turned to face her, "What's up?"

She groaned, rolling her eyes, and tossed a wadded up green apron at me, "We're gonna be late to work. C'mon."

Ugh. Work. Who likes it? Not me, that's who.

I'm Cait. I'm twenty years old, and I'm a college dropout. I'm also a barista at the Starbucks up the street, and I'm perpetually late.

Like now.

Val finished braiding her dark brown hair, tying it off at the end, and slung her purse over her shoulder. She's gorgeous, the kind of girl who puts just enough effort in her appearance to look polished without looking overdone, and she had a few delicate tattoos sprinkling her dark skin behind her ear. Today, she was completely ready for work - aside from her apron - and tapping her foot impatiently.

We weren't stupid enough to wear our aprons on the bus to work, and we were blessed with the new wardrobe policy which meant we could wear some colors beyond the traditional (aka monotonous) all black, white, and khaki.

Yay for small victories.

Since we worked together at the same Starbucks, we often worked at the same time, which meant Val would try to help me not get fired. I doubt I would've lasted this long without her, if I'm completely honest.

I pulled off my headphones and dropped them on the table next to my purse, and circled the couch to grab a navy blue v-neck to swap with my schlubby black "Keep Austin Weird" t-shirt. After I brushed it free of wrinkles, I ran a hand through my tangled black curls and twisted them up in a haphazard bun on the top of my head while slipping on my shoes.

"Your shoes don't match," Val said, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Dammit. I'd managed to slip on one of my worn black leather oxfords along with a very bright and very ugly red canvas slip-on from Walmart. (They were $7, in my defense.) Kicking off the red shoe, I grabbed the other black one and tugged it on before grabbing my phone and keys. I got one of those phone cases that doubles as a wallet a few months ago, because I hated carrying a purse in the city, and now I was able to keep my debit card, MetroCard, and ID all in one place...without worrying about losing them.

The fact is, I never lost my phone. Ever. I mean, sure, I temporarily couldn't find it in the couch a few times, and...okay, Val will tell you that I misplace it around our apartment at least three times a week, but I never lose lose it. There's a difference.

My phone is my lifeline, but not in the way you would think. I'm not a textaholic, and I don't twip or tweet or whatever that is. Social media wasn't my jam (except Instagram, because duh), but I am definitely a Spotify-addict. Music is everything to me, and I spend at least half of my day with those tiny earbuds jammed into my head. I'm not gonna lie - I'm almost jealous of people with cochlear implants who can have music streamed via bluetooth into their heads through the implant because that sounds way more convenient to me.

Grabbing an apple from refrigerator, I opened the door and headed out into the hallway of our apartment building with a smile. Val moaned, flicking off the lights behind me, and closed the door behind her - locking it quickly - before turning around and holding out a bundle of green for me.

Forgot my apron. Again.

"You love me," I grinned at her, forcing a cheesy puppy dog look on my face as I snatched it before we rushed down the four flights of stairs to exit the building. "Admit it, you love me."

She sighed, "No, I love your half of the rent."

"Close enough!"

Linking my arm with hers, I tugged her up the street toward the Prospect Park Subway Station. Luckily, I met Val online before I came to New York City six months ago, and she was nice enough to help me find a job when I arrived. When she offered, I assumed she'd suggest the names of a few places willing to hire someone my age, but I didn't expect her to ask her manager if he would hire me on the spot.

He did, and voila! I was somewhat gainfully employed, living in New York City, and living the dream. Granted, 'the dream' probably doesn't consist of working 37 hours a week at a cramped Starbucks off Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn whilst living in a cramped studio apartment with a roommate, but it's better than nothing. I was thrilled to get the job (who doesn't love money), and Starbucks has the best benefits I could imagine. Insurance, a 401k, transit reimbursement, and - most importantly - tuition reimbursement for up to $1000 per year available for benefits-eligible partners who have at least one year of continuous service at the time the course begins.

I wasn't eligible yet, considering I'd only been working at Starbucks for five months and I wanted to establish New York residency before I started school again, but I was counting down the days until I could go back. They'd even let me reduce my workload so I could be in school full-time, which was my ultimate dream. I missed my program at UT Austin - however weird it is for me to admit that I miss school and homework - so I was excited to return to school next year.

"Plans tonight?" Val asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts as we turned the corner to the subway station. We scanned our MetroCards quickly, making our way to the platform where we still had two more minutes to wait for the next train.

I nodded, "Orpheus Chamber Orchestra is playing at Naumburg tonight. I'm heading there after work. You could come, if you want?"

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Val replied. "I know what happens at those classical music concerts, and it's a lot less fun if you're not...you."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

She snorts, watching as our train approached, "It means you're in your own little world at those things, and you don't do anything except stare blankly at the stage. Oh, except when you close your eyes."

"You're not supposed to talk!" I defended myself whilst stepping onto the train after her as the doors slid open. "What am I supposed to say? 'Ooo, that cellist is so sexy.' You wouldn't understand me if I said that I loved the transition from andante to allegro in the third movement."

"Exactly," she said with a smile. "Cait, I love you, but I know when I'm intruding in your music bubble. You like it better when I'm not there anyway."

I frowned, grabbing onto the bar in the middle for support, "That's not true. I love your company."

"It is true," Val replied. "You're just too nice to admit it."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," I teased her.

"It is," she nudged me with an elbow. "You're too much of a pushover though. Gotta grow that backbone, lady!"

Val's right. I am a pushover.

It wasn't my fault, not really, but I walked on eggshells around everyone. I wanted to keep people happy, make everyone like me, but I also held them all at arms length. It wasn't that I didn't like people or anything. I'm not a misanthrope. I just...I dunno, it was easier to keep a wall between myself and everyone else.

Val was easily my best friend in New York. I didn't expect her to be - not all roommates are besties and that's totally okay - but she was always there for her when I needed her to be, which wasn't often. We bonded over our mutual love of pepperoni pizza and bad chick flicks, and our idea of 'personal sharing' was talking about the cute guys we spotted on the subway instead of our feelings. She didn't know about any of me or my history, and I liked it that way.

It was better that way. 

Welcome, welcome! I hope you enjoyed the first 'official' chapter of FOLLOWED. I'm in the process of rewriting this book, and there will be some major plot changes. 

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