Chapter 1

I checked the time on my phone again and tried to keep from groaning.

This was the first day of class and I was going to be late. Of course. Because this year absolutely needed to go as well as the last.

I took a longer drag from my cigarette and then stomped it in the ash tray by the front door of the building and quicken my steps a bit.

I wouldn't have been late if I had gone back to my apartment and not stayed at Trish's. Of course I had to go to one of the beginning of the semester party and of course I had to hook up with the host of the event, because I was a swell guy like that and believed that when a girl provided you with a place to party and free alcohol, the gentleman's way to show your appreciation was to fuck her brain's out. If only she could have had the decency to wake me up in the morning.

But ooooh noooo. She had to stay cuddled against me. And when I had finally woken up and freaked and asked why she hadn't woken me up, she had to say that maybe we should just skip class and re-enact last night. Of course, I hadn't had the guts to tell the poor girl that I was too drunk last night to remember what exactly it was I had to re-enact. Of course, I knew the basic, but I was clueless of the exact details.

I was a moron. A late moron.

When I finally reached my classroom, I stopped and stared through the little window. Professor Connor was pacing in front of the classroom, talking energetically. I could do this. I could open the door and find an empty spot and I could listen to the lecture I had already heard last year. I could do this. I could re-do this class and this time I could pass it. This year, I could start taking college seriously.

Yeah right.

I sighed and opened the door. Professor Connor stopped mid sentence and most people turned their heads to see what caused this. I flashed a guilty grin at the professor. "Nik, how nice to see you didn't bail on this class before the first actual lecture," he greeted me. Professor Connor was nice, he was actually the one that had pushed me with this whole re-doing a class thing instead of just abandoning so that helped.

I shrugged. "What can I say, I loved it so much the first time around, and you know how I love dramatic entrances."

He shook his head slightly and went back to pacing. "Take a seat Nik."

"Aye, aye," I answered, saluting him and he went on with his lecture, "As I was saying, for some of you, this is your first class in college..."

I tuned it out and looked around the class. All seats except the ones in the front were taken, and as much as I wanted to do better this semester, I wasn't about to sit in front. I finally spotted an empty chair in the middle of the left row of double desks.

I headed straight for it. There was a girl sitting there, leaning against the wall. As I sat down, I could see her entire body freezing. It amused me. The poor girl looked completely helpless, clutching at her pen like it was her lifeline. Her huge glasses and short haircut just helped making her look more like a scared mouse.

What was also amusing was that she was wearing like four layers of clothes when it was scorching hot outside. She was wearing this huge wool vest and this impossibly long skirt—seriously, I don't think I ever saw a girl wearing a skirt so long that didn't have a top that showed an indecent amount of cleavage. It definitely hid her shoes when she stood up, that's how long it was.

As I flipped my notebook open and took the pen clipped on it, taking off its cap, my eyes caught the cross resting on her chest.

I hoped for her sake she wasn't a Bible thumper. Professor Connor was quick to dismiss any kind of organised religion. She'd probably get offended.

Part of me wanted to tell her to relax—my sitting next to her didn't mean I was suddenly going to try to have my wicked way with her in a hall. Of course, my tattoo covered arms, stretched ears, shaved on the sides long on top haircut and left over cigarette stench didn't exactly stamp an All American golden boy status on my forehead and probably wasn't that comforting for her, but still...

She should have expected peculiar people in an art class. That's why I wasn't making a big deal out of her outfit. We were all weird people here.

I started to doodle in the corner of my page while Professor Connor started the lecture for real. I kept my ears open though I knew what he was saying—I had heard it last year, but then my attention was brought back beside me.

The girl was almost furiously drawing circles on the sheet on top of her stack of paper. But no ink was coming out of her pen. My shoulders shook a little at how comical she looked trying to get the pen working.

I could see the panic behind her glasses. She looked through her bag but came back empty handed and freaking out more. Not being able to take notes seemed like the end of the world for her.

I waited for her to ask me for a pen. This was obviously her only option. But she just gnawed at her lips, and I could see that she was fighting back tears.

Dear god, was taking notes really that big of a deal to her.

I rolled my eyes and threw my pen right on top of her sheets of paper. Her head snapped my way automatically, looking directly at me for the first time.

"Just take your damn notes," I mouthed and fished another pen out of back pocket—I was always carrying pens on me.

I saw her recoil when I said damn, but didn't take it personally. That girl was totally a scared little mouse. I wouldn't hold it against her. This was probably her first University class and the big bad scary boy with the questionable tattoos had sit beside her and told her to take her damn notes. She was entitled to be scared of me.

Instead I kept on doodling on my notebook. I drew cartoon characters asking each other why they were taking such poor decisions lately. Because I'm broken was the answer. In another universe I probably would have needed to take some notes and listen to the lecture but I could still remember it word for word.

Maybe re-doing this class was a bad idea. Maybe trying to get an art major was stupid of me. Maybe I should just give everything up and become a true bum.

Nobody would stop me now...

Well, my best friend might but he was never really that threatening.

Giving up on everything... that damn father of mine would have been so proud.

I started to draw a dinosaur destroying a town and stomping on the townsfolk when my elbow moved a little to the right and the girl beside me flinched, and recoiled closer to the wall beside her.

Okay, seriously?

I was going to ignore the scared little mouse beside me as best as I could for the rest of the lecture but she was surprisingly distracting and not in a good way. Every time I would move my arm or my leg ever so slightly towards her she would recoil from me like I was some kind of leprous zombie. She almost flinched every time I took a too big intake of breathe. The first couple of times were okay, I got it, I wasn't the friendliest looking bloke around, but after a while it really started to get on my nerves. Did I seriously look that much like some kind of murdering rapist—acts done in that order might I add?

I felt self conscious and tried to move less, breathe less deeply and then I felt like an utter moron.

I was about three gasps away from snatching my pen out of her hands and telling her to screw herself and take her stupid note with her useless pen or with the force of the Holy Spirit, hell with her blood for all I cared if she was so repulsed by me but the lecture was over before I could blow a fuse.

She placed the pen gently on the desk beside my notebook and without ever looking in my eyes, or at me really, she bolted out of the door.

What was that all about? I frowned, staring at her until she was out of my sight.

What a weird girl. And that was something coming from me.

I sighed shaking my head. No point in trying to understand every weirdo that shared the same oxygen as me. I was about to leave the class too when Professor Connor's voice stopped me. "Is this going to be like last year Nik?"

For a fraction of a second I thought about my father. The tone Professor Connor was using reminded me of the one my father used when I was disappointing him. It used to be about stuff like watching TV for half an hour too long, or falling asleep in my books and not closing my lights. Not things like skipping classes or well, getting to one late because of too much drinking and sexing with anything that had a vagina and a pulse. "Hopefully not," I answered him.

"That's not the answer I want to hear," he answered, with just as much disappointment. No shit, Sherlock.

"I know, but that's all I can give you."

"You could be so much more, you realize that, right?"

Again, I thought about my father. He would be saying the same thing, just like way more harshly. He would say I was wasting my life, that I was good for nothing and that I should get my ass to med school, get my tattoos removed, stopped dipping my dick in every hole it could find and stay away from booze and cigarettes. But my father wasn't there anymore, and I just didn't care.

"See you next week," I just told my poor Professor while waving and walked away.

I regretted not having sunglasses when I stepped outside. The sun was blinding me and I just wanted to go back to my bed and forget about this day, or this year really. Last fourteen years might be even better.

As I walked back to my dorms I looked at the freshmen running around, trying to survive their first days. They were easy to spot. They were the ones that looked like they had put thoughts into their outfits. The ones that looked scared and confused. The ones covered with mayo and ketchup—initiation, always a bitch.

I wasn't sure if I pitied them or envied them. On one hand, they had to decide about their whole future. On the other, they had to decide about their whole future.

I'd felt like a freshman twice. When I started pre-med and then I went into art. I started college when I was sixteen. It was easy to guess I wasn't the most liked kid. That was a difficult time for me. Well, I don't think there was ever an easy time for me. Maybe before my mom...

I tried to stop thinking about my mom, about anything really. I just tried to walk faster, shielding my eyes from the sun.

When I finally got back to the dorms, I got my first good news of the day.

I let myself fall contently on my bed. My room was empty, so that meant I wouldn't have to go through an interrogation with Nagging-Tyler. I hadn't come home last night. I would never hear the end of it. If I could get a couple hours of nap time before the nagging would start, I'd be pretty damn please.

Falling asleep was easy, I was always exhausted, but it wasn't a restful sleep. I kept dreaming about bad memories, about water and gasping and I was almost happy when Tyler's loud voice woke me up.

"You didn't come hooooome last night," my roommate and best friend remarked in a sing song voice. When he did things like that I always fought against the urge to slap the back of his head. But I didn't do it because his girlfriend, Vanessa, would rip my head off if I ever even slightly injured her precious Ty-Ty.

I rubbed my tired eyes and looked at my friend. I yawned before telling him, "Yeah, I was doing your mom, sorry. Couldn't help myself, she's quite the screamer, plus she's got fake nails, can't resist that."

Tyler scrunched up his nose and dropped his backpack on the ground, "Unfortunately, it's all very plausible. Should I start calling you daddy or you're more comfortable with My-Dearest-Step-Father."

I grinned and closed my eyes. "Daddy please, call me daddy."

I heard Tyler drop himself on the ground, probably lying there beside my bed like some kind of dramatic lazy princess. "I'll call you Lord-Master-of-my-Balls if it means you're my step-dad and you have to buy me a car."

I snorted. "I'm not buying you a car."

"Why not, I'm an amazing step-son. I let you fuck my mom hard. I don't even complain when your screaming wakes me up. I actually just go make you breakfast."

I rubbed my eyes, looked at him and shook my head. What a moron. But honestly, I was friends with him mostly for that. "Sorry kiddo, I'm not going to keep seeing your mom. She's too much work."

"I know..." Tyler sighed in defeat. "Damn it."

I reached for his head and gave him a little pat, like an obedient dog. "But I'll always consider you as my son in my heart."

"You're the best father I ever had," Tyler said and choked on a fake sob.

"I hope for your sake that your dad doesn't hear this."

"My dad's betting with everyone that wants in that you're gay."

I frowned. Those Grayson bastards. "Your dad's a dick, I'm amazing."

"My dad's going to give me two hundred dollars actually. I mean, as long as you don't fuck a guy too openly."

Of course. I should have figured that the fact I hadn't heard about any of their bogus bets lately was because the bet was on me. There was something nice about this though, like I was part of the family. "I'll try to keep my homosexual tendencies under check," I assured my friend and got up. Tyler wasn't asking about last night. I had deflected the conversation—that guy was way too easily distracted. Now was my time to run. Or shower. I really needed a shower.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Tyler answered, while sitting cross legged on the ground.

"You're welcome." I grabbed everything I needed for my shower and headed for the door.

"That means stop flirting with Blake!" Tyler yelled after me.

I smiled and then laughed. "NO PROMISES!"

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Here it was, the first chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed being in Nik's head and that you'll want to come back for more. As you can assume from this chapter, most of the main characters from "I Sold Myself to the Devil for Vinyls...Pitiful I Know" will make an appearance in this story. It's not necessary to have read the other books though.

I'm trying to follow an uploading schedule with this story, so every Wednesday I should be uploading. Wednesdays are my favourite days. Comic-book days. 8D

Till next week! :D