8| One Step Forward

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May 2002
One Year Later

"Are you coming or not?"

I grabbed my Econ book off of my bed and set it down on my desk.

"I already told you that I'm not going to that frat party, Marcus. I have better things to do with my time."

"Oh really? Like what?"

Instead of answering, I sat at my desk, opened my textbook, and started to pretend to read.

"Exactly! You don't have anything better to do with your time. Come on, Elliot. You've done nothing during freshman year except study and do homework."

"I'm pretty sure that's the whole point of attending college, Marcus."

"Yes, but so is partying and meeting girls! You've done neither of those things. When you aren't doing school stuff you just stay in our room and pine after—"

"Don't," I snapped. "Just....don't talk about her."

"This is what I'm talking about! You only knew her for what? Two days? Then you drove three states over to meet her...and she didn't show!"

"Stop it, Marcus."

"She's a flake, Elliot. She gets her jollies off by getting guys to be interested in her and then leaving them high and dry."

I jumped up from the chair and turned towards my best friend. "Watch your fucking mouth, Marcus. You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Oh, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about?"

Marcus stepped around me and opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand. He pulled out that damn light blue journal and held it up.

"What's this, then? You told me you were going to get rid of this so you could finally start moving on. That was six months ago, Elliot."

I clenched my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn't crack from the pressure. "Give me the journal, Marcus."

Marcus stared at me for several moments before he finally handed it over. I snatched the small book from him and returned it to it's home in the bottom drawer.

When I looked back at my best friend, he had a solemn look on his face.

"I know you still love her, Elliot. I'm not trying to say that what you're feeling isn't real. I'm just trying to tell you that it isn't healthy."

"I can't just forget about her, Marcus," I rasped. "Believe me, I've tried."

Stella Amherst wasn't an easy girl to forget. I knew that my friend was right and I needed to get over her, but it was just so goddamn hard.

"I know," he said softly. "I know you have. Clearly what you've been doing isn't working. Come with me tonight. Take a step forward in the right direction." He held up his index finger. "Just one step forward."

I ran my hand over my face. "I don't know, Marcus."

Even though I knew going to this party would probably be good for me, it didn't make the decision any easier. All I wanted to do was stay in my dorm room, order some food, and then pass out to some random show on Netflix.

I glanced at the now closed drawer to my nightstand. Marcus was right. I did promise that I would get rid of the journal. There were a few times I stood in front of the trash can with it in my hands. All I had to do was throw it away.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

I didn't know if it was because I still loved her, or if it was because I was trying to hold on to the realest thing that I had ever felt.

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