Bright Stars, Broken Compass

Chapter Five: Will

I'm mentally cussing myself out as I follow her. I could tell she felt awful when she left me after Dr. Solomon's class, and hell, the fact that she even made it to class at all must be a testament to some hellacious inner strength. I would've been glued to my sofa for days after the night she had. But then, I just don't drink like that.

It's that thing I have, that Uncle Cass warned me about. I'm too afraid of losing control. Maybe that's why she fascinates me, I tell myself as I slip out of the building, letting several people get between us before I follow. I keep my eyes glued to the bright pink of her t-shirt, the one that proclaims, "Fight Like a Girl . . . For Breast Cancer Awareness." It hugs her almost obscenely, doing nothing to hide the curves so casually exposed in the moonlight the night before.

I really am concerned about how she's feeling. I was on the verge of offering to carry her books anyway when she bolted. Then I realize one of the people between us is that boy from last night. The one I shoved, who touched her when she clearly preferred death by ebola virus. I feel my eyes narrow and my breath quicken. My hands clench and unclench into fists automatically, without me even willing it. My body, it seems, is suddenly prepared to fight for this girl. Or over her. Or something.

Or maybe I just don't like assholes. Whatever the reason, I'm cussing silently again when Abbey takes a wrong turn between the architecture and fine arts buildings. I know there's no exit from there. I used to meet Sabrina there, for a few private moments between classes.

The asshole follows her.

At the corner of the turn into the alley between the two buildings, I stop and take stock. Campus is mostly quiet, since classes have already started. Only a few late stragglers hurry on, and their attention is definitely not on something that might or might not be happening where they can't even see.

But what stops me mostly is this sense of being at a crossroads. So far, she's just a girl I met at a party, albeit one I can't seem to get out of my mind. And yes, maybe she had something to do with me breaking up with Sabrina. But only a tiny, circumstantial part. As things stand right now, she's just a girl I've helped out, and teased, and laughed with. If I cross that corner and insert myself into a situation that isn't really any of my business, I'll also be crossing a line inside myself.

A line that exists because, if I'm honest, I can't stop thinking about her. And I'm not sure I'm ready for another Sabrina.

But what if she's not another Sabrina? What if she really is the girl I could take home to the river? An image of her swimming in its blue-green waters bursts into my mind from nowhere, and I catch myself wondering if she's a one- or two-piece kind of girl.

Two-piece. God, please let it be two-piece.

Jesus Christ. I run my hand over my face, pausing to rub my temples. This has to stop. I'm not sixteen anymore. I don't want to be sixteen again. I want to stay in control, and Abbey Banks seems able to snatch away my self-control without even being present.

That's when I hear voices raised in anger. I hear Abbey most clearly of all.

"God damn it, Brady, stay the hell away from me!" And then something that sounds like flesh hitting flesh. A slap?

Any illusion of self-control I might have been clinging to vanishes with that sound. I charge the corner like I'm the white hat in an old western, about to throw down at the OK Corral.

Brady. The asshole's name is Brady. I let that knowledge sear itself onto my brain, even as I step forward and insert myself into the situation. I can hear Cass in the back of my head, telling me to focus, to keep my body loose and ready. I let my backpack slide off my back to rest behind me, and take a step forward, so it's not in my way. I want a clear path to whatever's going to happen.