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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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I'M NINETEEN AND I'M ON FIRE
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I HATE BEING DRAGGED OUT OF BED. Blake also hates being woken up before his alarm rings, so, needless to say, none of us is particularly happy to see a very cheerful Leah standing in the middle of our bedroom after having pulled the blinds open. As much as I like her, I don't enjoy being woken up at five-thirty on a Monday.
Even worse—I hate being woken up at five-thirty on a Monday to go out for a run. I need to move instead of lazily slouch on my bed or a couch, sure, but it's our first day back and it's one of the last things I want to do, especially because I need all the extra hours of sleep I can possibly get. Everyone says the second semester is the brutal one, as the first is there to introduce you to new methods of learning and studying, and I can almost picture myself having a breakdown in the middle of an auditorium.
I don't know how she does it, but she still finds a way of dragging me out of bed and throws me a pair of working out clothes. I furrow my brows, staring down at my sports bra with tired eyes, as it's freezing cold outside (seriously—we even had to switch to flannel sheets and heavier duvets), so she hands me a jacket and tells me I have five minutes to get ready and meet her downstairs.
I sigh after she leaves and closes the door behind her, not really wanting to follow her, but I'm not one to stand people up. I might be a lot of things, but being like Natasha isn't one of them, as petty and catty as that sounds, so I quickly change clothes, tie my hair into a tight ponytail and put on my pair of running sneakers as Blake's soft snoring fills the room once more.
I still haven't had the courage to tell him about my trip to Maine and my stay at Avery's house, right next to his, but the tiny voice in the back of my brain insists he already knows about it. Though I haven't mentioned anything about it to him, he seems to have a way of always figuring out—it freaks me out a little bit, if we're being perfectly honest about it, but I like him that way.
During the time I spent in Maine, Avery also didn't open her mouth to tell me if they had fixed things, but, considering his name barely ever came up in conversation (when it did, it was simply for a brief moment for contextualization), I'm assuming they're still working on it. Recovery doesn't happen overnight and you have to keep making an effort, even though it might be pretty draining.
