Loving You (Loving #1) | ✓

Chapter 1 | Writing Letters

As I walk down the streets of my neighborhood, I take in how beautiful it is, kind of thankful for deciding not to drive to school today. The neighborhood, Hethwood, is truly fabulous, and I wonder why I don't walk around more often. I reflect back to the times I hated the place, not even wanting to explore my street. I never saw the true beauty of the place back then, which is honestly stupid of me. I release a breath and watch the small cloud of water vapor as it disperses in front of me. As much as I really like this walk, I'm starting to regret not driving due to the freezing weather. The weather is cold enough to freeze my nose off.

I usually take the five-minute drive to school as opposing to taking the simple ten-minute walk. It's either too cold or I simply don't want to, out of laziness. Or maybe it's because I like driving. I don't really know.

I see my school in the distance and brace myself, clutching onto my backpack strap as I walk into the parking lot. I'm somewhat late, considering it's almost eight and I'm not even inside the school yet. I sigh when I hear the first bell go off, then I quicken my steps to my locker and grab my things for first period.

I walk to my class, hoping that I don't walk into her. Or maybe I am. I don't know, I've not seen her much this week. I want to see her, but in the same time, I'm too tired of having the remnants of my heart shatter into even tinier pieces than they already are every time I see her. I'm just tired of it.

I take my seat just as the tardy bell rings, and, as usual, it takes almost all of my willpower not to glance at her. And that's how the rest of the day goes. It only consists of me avoiding her and her avoiding me. I don't know how to feel about it; I don't know if I should be hurt or relieved.

Maybe even both.

The walk home is as uneventful as the school day. I walk home with a good friend of mine, Johnny, and we talk a little, but I think he notices my bad mood and doesn't want to pressure me into talking. I appreciate that. We part ways as we enter our neighborhood, and I walk to my house. When I spot my father's car in the driveway, right behind mine, I sigh. I was kind of hoping that, today, he'd go to work and stay late like he usually does, but it seems luck isn't on my side. I debate whether I should just get my car keys and leave, go somewhere, but I decide against it when I go inside the house.

Dad is nowhere to be found, and I go upstairs to hear the loud snoring coming from behind his bedroom door. I close my eyes, taking a moment to breathe, and get into my own room. I'm glad he's asleep, because I'm really not up for an argument. I get changed into comfortable, cozy clothes, and sit down on my desk. I stare at the journal I bought some days ago, for what seems like ages, before I decide to just start writing in it. It's the reason I bought it anyway, isn't it?

So, I hold the nearest pen I find in my hand, and I stop thinking.

I just write.

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when i said the book layout is changing i did really mean that it's changing. no plot changes, tho. i think i said that enough times now. lmk what u think!!

ty for reading xxx