Not Like You

Chapter Three

I woke up to my alarm blaring in my ear. I  turned it off and got up, yawning and stretching my arms. Harlow was sleeping away, and I decided to leave her because nothing major was going on today. We had no classes until tomorrow.

I dragged myself to the shower and let the warm water wake up my joints. When I was done, I shaved and rubbed lotion into my dry and dehydrated skin.

I left my hairdryer in my room, so I braided my hair and hoped it would look okay after it dried.

Since I had all day to myself, I decided to go shopping for some things I wanted.

After temporarily getting stropped in the video game section, grocery section, movie section, and book section, I ended up with hair ties, Christmas lights, a few books (of course) and, because I knew Harlow would never stop bugging me about it, I slipped in some cheap makeup. 

When I got back to the dorm, I heard voices in my dorm. I entered and saw Harlow sitting with Max and Nash. 

"Hey, Rose," Nash greeted me. I greeted him and started to put away my new things.

"Don't change the subject, Nash. Tell me who she is," Harlow pushed Nas's chest and he laughed, falling backward on her bed.

"Nope. Plus, I'm not even sure she likes me back," I shook my head and climbed onto my bed, bringing up my google docs and typing.

"What are you doing, Rose?" asked Nash, who was completely ignoring Harlow.

"Writing. I'm an Author. I love books," I didn't look up from my laptop as I typed.

"What genre do you write?" I looked up. It wasn't Nash's voice I heard, but Max's.

"Romance, fiction. Some mystery," I picked at a nail before starting to type again.

"Do you write songs?" I stopped typing and looked at Max.

"I have. They aren't any good,"

"How do you know? Ten bucks you haven't ever shown anyone," I rolled my eyes, but he was right. I haven't ever shown anyone.

"Let us hear one," Nash pleaded, opening his guitar case, which I had no clue he had, and took out his guitar. When I got a better look at it, I noticed how old it was. How worn. It had a decorative black strip on its center but that was it.

I thought Nash was going to be playing his guitar, but he gave it to Max.

"Um, who would sing it? I sure as Hell am not," I bring up my file of songs and look through them.

"Harlow can. She sings," Harlow shoves Max, but smiles.

"Alright then, Nah, pick one," I hand him my laptop and let him scroll through the songs.

"There are some pretty decent ones. Some look old. Have bad grammar even for a song," he looked up at me, "how old were you when you wrote these?" I shrugged.

"Anywhere from Eleven to Nineteen," Nash nodded and kept scrolling.

"Alright, this is the one," he clicked on one and showed it to me. I laughed.

"Really? That's the one you pick? The one that's half-Spanish?" I ask. It was called Stuck in the middle.

"Yeah. I can tell there was emotion behind it,"

"Alright, then why don't you-" my phone buzzed and I groaned.

"It's my Dad. You guys can figure out a song. Use whatever," I went to the hall and hit the answer button.

"Dad, you left yesterday and had your little spy check on me. What do you want?" I heard his sigh.

"I told you I'd call every day until you started dating Ethan. He really is a good option for you. And he's smart, and-"