No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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MISTAKES WERE MADE. Mistakes and I had always been hand-in-hand, partners in crime (but resentfully so) since it was all my childhood comprised of. When I was merely one, I swallowed a big chunk of carrot without trying to chew, and had to be smacked on the back for. When Liam was nine and I was five, we were running all across the living room, diving headfirst into sofas and cushions and anything remotely bouncy until I had head-butted the wall instead. I'd gone to the doctor. They'd said all was fine, but I knew I was growing up with severe brain damage. I knew it would completely change the trajectory of my life. I just never realized the impact would be so intense.
Sincerity held my words. "What if I. . .flee the country?"
Stella slapped my arm. In the past hour-and-a-half, she had done that action so many times, I was sure my arm was going to bruise. "For the last time, Laura," she glared. Chloe looked my way for the briefest of seconds, grinning. "Shut the fuck up."
This time, I was done for. There were no probable outcomes in my favour, because I actively chose to make the worst of decisions. And said decisions had varied over the past week, tier-ranked based on their atrocious nature—foul and acidic residue being all that left in their wake. It almost included all that had taken place over the impulsive road trip: the lack of preparation for Physics (which had now come to blow up in our faces), the aftermath weariness setting us up for failure (because we were still reeling from the weekend's adrenaline, I supposed), and my favourite: the drunkenshenanigans.
Of course, the last one was specific to me. Only I was stupid enough to display such idiocy.
Stella and Chloe knew. I had managed to hide it well until we stepped foot into our city—after which I had drowned myself in schoolwork to right all the wrongs, knowing that the second midnight hit and my overthinking tendencies took over, I would be flooding their messages.
And I had. It wasn't my proudest moment, especially after I'd let Stella know she was delirious for thinking anything could've possibly happened the night she'd walked in on Evan and me being tongue-tied on the terrace.
She had screamed through text regardless. Chloe had muttered a couple of prayers. I had been in a fragile state, and it was downright shameful how it was still the state I was in, three days later.
The city's biggest public library stretched lavishly, embracing the whirring noises that resulted due to the commotion of visitors in a monotonous routine. There was a distinct comfort lining us as we tossed between us questions regarding Kinematics, the wood-scraping and knee-jerking noises swelling as time passed by.
No matter what fleeting comfort it provided, however, my chest was filled with uneasiness. I could've almost thought I had an upset stomach because of the sushi I'd consumed last night. Anxious study sessions two days before the exam were proven to not help my state.
