The First to Fall ⚢

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 • 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚

I know how ridiculous I can be when it comes to Aspen sometimes. There's a rational part of my brain that tries to claw its way to the front to tell me she's not as bad as I think she is, but then there's that infectious part of my brain that can't see her as anything but the absolute bane of my existence. That's the part that always seems to end up victorious, no matter how hard I fight to see her as a friend.

It would make sense to see her as a friend. She knows more about me than anyone in my life, really—even my parents, who are supposed to know me better than I know myself. And yet Aspen Greenwood, my one and only rival, could tell them more about my life than they could even think to explain. So why is it, even though she's clearly an intelligent, thoughtful person, I can't let her in just once? Am I really that superficial in the way that I see her?

Or does this go beyond just Aspen Greenwood? I can't remember the last time I spoke to someone about how I was feeling. I can't remember the last time I actually had someone to talk to. What if I'm taking my loneliness out on Aspen without even realizing it? She obviously cares about me to some degree; I should be able to reciprocate her effort, even if just an ounce.

That's my new goal for the day, then: be nice to Aspen Greenwood. Shouldn't be too difficult, right? All I have to do is quiet the voice in my head telling me she thinks I'm incapable of doing anything right and I should be fine. No big deal.

"Hello?" I hear a voice call out from beside me. Aspen is calling for me loud and clear but I don't hear her until the end.

"Sorry," I tell her, completely in my own head. It's been a couple of days since the dinner with Ambrose and Theo, who have both still kept in touch, thank goodness. I know how college friendships usually go—it starts with the whole name/year/major introduction, then you plan on meeting up, which might not even happen, and then if you do end up hanging out, they usually never text you again and you're left wondering what the hell you did to piss them off for the rest of the year. But Ambrose and Theo have both texted me separately that they had fun and would love to hang out again, which has to be a good sign.

"You're good," Aspen says, rummaging through her dresser. "Are you coming with us to the activity fair?"

"Oh, there's an activity fair?"

"I guess so. Norah and Opal are heading out soon, and I think Ambrose and Theo are going too. Did you want to tag along?"

I can't deny that my brain grows suspicious whenever she asks me something, as if she's trying to steal information about me to manipulate me somehow, but I try my best to shove those thoughts away and respond kindly. "Yeah, let me throw some shoes on."

I hop out of my bed and push my feet into the Nikes I wear every day until the deafening silence that surrounds me catches my attention. When I glance over at Aspen, she's holding two shirts up to her chest in the mirror, trying to determine which one she should wear, I'm assuming.