Montana and Natasha were inseparable. Until the day they weren't.
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Montana Belmonte-Rowe sees her acceptance into Harvard as a fresh start. Still haunted by the tragic death of...
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featuring:
→asami zdrenka as jenna stanley
→ daniel sharman as noel worthington (mentioned only)
CHAPTER FOUR
WE MIGHT AS WELL BE STRANGERS
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WHEN CLASSES OFFICIALLY BEGIN, NO ONE REMEMBERS THAT SAD EPISODE AT THE FRESHMAN PARTY. I discover Blake, Jared and I don't have any common courses, but they do, with Blake taking pre-med ones, Jared being a Neurobiology major and me being a Political Science and Government one; it's not what Mother would have liked me to choose (and she made sure of reminding me of that countless times, back when she was still alive) and, while part of me didn't want to disrespect her memory by doing exactly what she didn't want me to, I stayed true to myself for once.
On my first day, I wake up early to make sure I'll have enough time to do everything my to-do list tells me to. It's six in the morning and my first class is at nine, but I still rush towards the common showers (I've been using them since the day I got here, mostly because I didn't bother to check if Weld Hall has a private shower room) to make sure no one has had the same idea as me and decides to use up all the hot water. They haven't, but it sure feels like it when I step under a shower head, with cold water pouring down on me like icicle spears for, at least, two minutes until the temperature finally hits reasonable levels.
When I get out, I'm shivering as I sprint towards the locker rooms, wrapped in a towel and mentally cursing myself for having forgotten to bring a hair towel with me. My hair clings to my back, with droplets of water dripping from the ends and following me wherever I go, and I force myself to accept it will be full of knots until I decide to comb it.
The door slams shortly after, when I'm already fully dressed, Converse sneakers included, and I almost drop my make-up bag when I jump in my place. The first thing I see when I peek out of the locker room is a mane of dark hair, reminding me of Mother a little bit too much for comfort (and my stomach is twisting and turning around itself, as if it had been repeatedly punched), but, when I decide to get over myself and be a big girl by leaving my hiding spot, I find it would have been better to stay where I was.
