CHAPTER THREE
LIAM
“Dude!”
I practically slam the room door shut, wishing with everything I have that I can remove that picture from my mind. Smack-dab in the hallway of my housing building, I groan while banging my head on the wall, cringing at the noises from inside of my room that have resumed.
“Hang a sock on the handle or something next time!” I yell, getting looks from the other guys that live across from us. Rolling my eyes, I look down at my watch, seeing I have an hour or so before my next class, and no enjoyable place to study.
Well, technically . . .
No, I refuse.
I promised myself I would stop going to the planetarium. It brings so many memories, ones I’m trying so desperately to forget. The mind is a funny thing. I’m on a fifteen-hundred-acre campus filled with places to do schoolwork, yet I can’t focus at any of them.
A gruff “thank you” falls from my lips as someone holds the door open, and I instantly miss the air conditioning as I step into the blistering sunshine en route to the library.
The security guard waves at me like always, greeting me in Spanish.
I return the sentiment, thankful he hasn’t started a whole conversation with me yet.
While I’m technically half Colombian, I experienced a very American childhood.
I can definitely understand Spanish, but speaking it is a whole other ball game.
I head toward some empty desks, intent on avoiding that room.
Though, when I see the planetarium unoccupied, I stop and fight with myself, nostalgia winning in the end.
Sighing, I slip between the two large mahogany doors, the thunk of them shutting the only sound in the room.
The smell of dust and faint lemon wafts around.
Taking a quick look, I twist the dial to darken the space and I flip a switch.
Orion’s Belt lights up the ceiling. A small smile starts on my face, and I adjust it slightly, with Ursa Major glowing and twinkling a bit brighter.
I lean on the industrial-sized telescope that’s used as a decoration after being replaced by a more expensive and updated piece.
The bliss found in silence soothes me, and after a bit of marveling at our universe far beyond our usual beautiful sky, I raise the light slightly, but don’t turn off the projector.
Placing my backpack on the floor and taking out my sketchbook along with a couple of pencils, I start perfecting my latest drawing.
It’s always the same thing when I’m here.
I get this burst of motivation, and the only signal my brain sends to my hands is for them to draw.
Smudging to create a shadow along the face, I hold the notebook, sighing as I realize I once again drew blemishes in the pattern I always have.
My traitorous heart and mind making sure I truly never forget.
I look down at my hand as I connect the small dots, scattering across her face—all from memory. I sigh, this girl reflecting someone who I’ve never been able to stop thinking about.
Bianca Harrison.
My pencil stops at the thought and I slide a hand through my hair in frustration, pulling at the strands.
It’s been five years since I last talked to Bianca and eight since she left, yet I feel like it was yesterday.
An ache starts in my heart as always, my mind trying to think of something else, trying to minimize the mental torture.
When I was twelve years old, I had promised my best friend I would never forget her, no matter what. How could I when she was at the root of every decision I’ve made? When she left, even if she had to, I refused to let life take her away mentally.
Emotionally.
I mean, we would talk almost every night for years. It was so good, we were so good.
Yet, on her birthday of all days, I messed up; I admitted it then and as an adult, I admit it now.
What killed me was when I tried to text her a couple days later, my message didn’t go through.
My heart dropped, my hands almost trembled, but I held out hope.
Then, when I called her and it immediately went to voicemail . . . I knew.
My best friend, the girl who I secretly loved, wanted nothing to do with me. The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth even all these years later.
The serene music from the speakers in the room makes its presence known, causing my thoughts to be even more nostalgic. I mean, I was hurt and lashed out by saying what I said, but to completely cut me off?
Searing my heart, I threw myself into anything and everything. It didn’t matter; I needed something to stop thinking, something to redirect that ache. With lots of hard work, I graduated high school as salutatorian and was accepted into my dream school: Mella Colta University.
It was the best news I had received in a while, and with my major being aerospace engineering, it was the closest I could get to grappling with what little bit I had shared with her. Stargazing was always our thing, and now I study the machines that take others to observe everything up close.
I slightly pull again at my hair, a nervous habit, sighing at things I’ve been trying to forget for five years.
Things I want to erase, memories I want to get rid of—but there’s a part of me that won’t let me.
It’s the reason for my suffering. I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face before beginning to fidget with the rings on my fingers, which sit there subtly emphasizing the elaborate designs on my hands.
It’s been a long time since she left. I was practically a child. Turning twenty-one soon has really put a lot on me, especially when I realized my life isn’t going the way I thought it would. Tracing the somewhat healed calluses on my palms, I close my eyes and think about how old habits die hard.
While football was my pride and joy, I never pursued it seriously.
I had only tried out to have something that would keep my mind off Bianca’s move.
But at eighteen, my passion for football turned into one for tattooing.
Enough pain and motivation needed to be transferred to something, and my body paid the price.
It became my canvas, causing me to be covered from the neck down in tattoos.
Of course, I’ve heard it all from everyone.
That I’ve ruined my body.
I’ll never get a job looking like I do.
It’ll look horrible when I get older.
A stupid dare sparked it. Then, when I felt the relief of the little needles puncturing the skin, it silenced the chaos in my head.
I couldn’t stop; now I’m responsible for almost sixty percent of all the ink on myself.
At first, it was a lot for me to get used to, especially since the bouquet of tulips on my hand was not all I wanted.
Mom freaked out, and so did Dad, but it became the norm.
So, over time, I returned almost every other month for something new, and because of it, I discovered an underlying passion for drawing.
The artists back home became my mentors and are the only reason I am where I am, causing me to apply to every parlor within a five-mile radius when I came to Mella Colta.
Looking back down at my sketchbook, I flip through the pages, the subtle similarities practically jumping off the paper. Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major, the little freckles dotted over the bridge of every person’s nose and cheeks.
It’s been years, yet my mind continually tortures me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a long time, and obviously thinking about her every day isn’t healthy. So, there will be days, even weeks, where I feel healed . . . Well, healed enough to ignore the hurt.
Then, a memory, a scent, a song—I’m thrust back into the abyss of our ended friendship.
I guess in some sort of sick way, my subconscious always makes me draw those little freckles to feel closer to her.
Hard as it is to admit, I sometimes replay our conversations in my head, but the one I remember the most is the one we had the day before it all fell apart.
I laughed as I saw Bianca put her “new” phone on her desk, then moved to sit on her bed.
“Freckles, what are you doing?” I asked, and she looked at me, facepalming herself. She must’ve forgotten I was here.
“Sorry, I was just trying to get comfortable.”
“Ah. So, how was your day today?” I grabbed a piece of candy and she smiled.
“It was nice. We went to the space center, and thankfully, since Jamie and I are getting close, we spent the day glued to each other. The trip being a day before my birthday made it that much better. Plus, these other girls hung out with us too, I loved it.” Something ached in my chest, this fear that she might be moving on without me, but I tried with all my might to not let it show.
I cleared my throat and tilted my head down. “I’m glad you had fun,” I said, half meaning it. I selfishly wished that I could have been with her.
“Yeah. It would’ve been one hundred times better if you could have been there, though.
” She pouted slightly, and my eyes drifted down, but I quickly recovered.
The ache shifted to a jump in my chest, and a whole-body blush washed over me.
I ran a hand over my face, hoping it helped me calm down, and she noticed.
“You okay? Are you thinking about the game tomorrow?”
“It’s been brutal, and Andrew said he’ll try to see if I can play. Coach is pushing all of us pretty hard.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “You should be first string. You’re literally amazing at everything, Liam. I know you would do great if given the chance.”
I shrugged, not letting the thought linger in my head so as to not build up hope.
“He’s the coach, he knows what’s best.” She stared at me with an exasperated look, but I interrupted her before she could say anything else.
“C’mon, Freckles, keep telling me about the trip.
” That beautiful smile came back to her face and I sat there, easily listening to my girl.