Chapter 1 //

For my mother

(Without you, none of this would be possible, thank you for everything!)

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1/

ING RAN ACROSS THE ALMOST EMPTY CAMPUS WITH HER ARMS WRAPPED TIGHTLY AROUND HER BURGUNDY COAT WHILE THE HARSH WINDS BLEW ACROSS HER face. Which made her thick curly black hair dance early autumn weather which was a bit colder and harsher than she had expected. The wind was relentless and it turned her throat achingly dry and her voice hoarse and short. Her breathing became shallow and her steps became wider. Trees, with their half dead leaves and cracked branches swayed in the sharp wind, waving to Ing as she jet passed them. Fat grey clouds covered the skies for as far as could be seen, hiding behind them, the sun. It was the first day of classes and she was already running eleven minutes late to be exact.

Anxiety of entering the classroom late, slowly began to creep over her, but she forced herself to think about something else, anything else. But she couldn't. A little voice in the back of her head, telling her to panic, to overreact to every situation, even when there was so little chance of anything going wrong. As she saw the front of the building coming into view she slowed her pace and eventually stopped running. When she reached the front door, she dropped her hands from around her body and wiped the sweat that had built up in her palms on the front of her coat and tugged the door open. The cold wind burst through the open door, knocking a few pages the professor had on his desk on to the floor and everyone in the room turned to look up at her. She froze in place and caught some one staring directly at her, but his face quickly reddened and turned his head down towards his notebook and began fumbling with the edge of his paper. Her anxiety hit her head on. Then the voice was back. Telling her that she managed to screw up something so simple. Her face suddenly burnt up with anxiety, she ducked her down and headed towards the back of the room and took the first seat she found that wasn't too close to anyone.

"Name?" The teacher called out, but Ing didn't hear him. She shuffled through her bag and pulled out her cloth pencil pouch and notebook, which was decorated with rushed sketches on the front and back and a few parts of her favorite poems.

"Miss?" The teacher called out again, this time louder and Ing darted her head up with an embarrassed look on her face, her cheeks were burning.

"Yeah?" She whimpered, barely able to get it out, let alone a full coherent sentence. She cursed herself mentally for sounding so pathetic.

"Name?" He asked her once again, with one eyebrow raised.

"Ing" She blurted out. "Ingrid." She corrected herself quickly, feeling her cheeks burn even redder than they were before "Ingrid Wahl Roberts." She finished. After the teacher confirmed her with a curt nod she eagerly ducked her down and took out one of her pencils and began jotting down some ideas for a novel she'd promised one of her high school teachers she'd write. She thought she could feel the teacher's stare still on her, but soon realized how ridiculous that sounded, but didn't completely dismiss the idea from her mind.

The lecture hall room was large, perhaps seating one hundred and fifty students Ing had guessed, though a fair amount of them were absent. The room was carpeted with an ugly light reddish brownish color and the walls were a plain light cream color, dotted with posters for various clubs and other campus events. There were three boards in the room, all chalkboards, which Ing thought was strange and old fashioned, but also a little quaint. One of the chalkboards hung on the center of the wall and two stood to the professor's right and to his left. A huge mahogany desk sat in the center of the front of the room with a chair pushed back towards the wall.

The lecture seemed to go on forever Ing thought. The teacher rambling on and on about some of his favorite romantic poets from the last century and their contribution to society both in the past and the present, and possibly the future. Ing loved writing and had taken extra English and writing classes while she was still in high school, but this teacher was boring her with all his "rules", the rights and wrongs about writing. Ing's favorite English teacher in high school had been a bit less conservative when it came to teaching writing and gave them a myriad of topics and told them to write what they had felt. She taught them that a good writer was able to follow the rules and write a good story, but a greater writer didn't let the laws of English stop them, insisting that a great writer made up their own rules and Ing couldn't have agreed more.

This professor wasn't the same. He seemed to fancy organization. A lot. In fact, Ing noticed how neat the desk was. Of course it wasn't unusual for a college professor to have a well-organized desk in one of his classrooms, but there were strange oddities in how he kept his desk organized. A stack of papers in the left corner, all filed straight and precise at their edges, not a single page hung over the edge. The pencil container centered and filled with exactly seven yellow pencils that appeared to be sharpened at the same exact height with all the erasers intact and never been used. A few pieces of chalk rested on the thin ledge of the chalkboard, lined up from most to least used. The teacher seemed to have his life, at least work as well as his teaching methods governed by strict rules and this didn't sit well with Ing.

Ing didn't like strict rules, she didn't like complete order. She didn't like waking up every morning knowing what was in store for her. She didn't like waking up every Tuesday morning at five o'clock to get ready for her seven o'clock biology class. She didn't particularly like the routine of hanging out with her friends almost every day at The Roast, not that she didn't enjoy spending time with them, just that she'd prefer a change of scenery, somewhere outside. Perhaps at the park and have a picnic or something more extreme like climbing the side of the mountain, something she would have preferred over having a picnic and definitely over going to The Roast every day to catch up on the day's events.

It was always the same, Willa and Oliver would beat everyone there and would be gushing over each other, sharing a Frappuccino with too much whipped cream and two cherries while ogling each other or sometimes full on making out in the middle of the coffee shop. That's how they were, they were the couple of the group, most reasonable and most responsible. Ing would make it next and spend the next few minutes waiting for Mira to show up, so she busied herself with jotting down dozens of ideas for novels that she was never going to write, while nursing a warm cup of green tea with a slice of lemon. Mira always showed up late, she always in a rush. In a rush to get to The Roast and in a rush to leave. Even though Ing, Willa, Oliver, and Mira were a close nit group of friends Ing, Willa, and Oliver hardly knew what kept Mira busy all the time. Mira was secretive about her personal life, and always careful about what she said, careful not to let the little things slip.

When the lecture ended, and the professor took final role call to catch any other late comers, Ing went up to his desk and apologized for being late and making a big entrance when showing up to class, but he reassured her that it was no problem and that over the course of the lecture five or six other people had made their way into the classroom even after her. Ing wasn't sure how she didn't notice a single one of them, but she was always lost deep in her thoughts whenever she was writing.

"So, um, Ollie and I were talking earlier and we're gonna do it." Willa said practically bouncing out of her seat. Ollie reached across that table and took her hand in his, attempting to calm her down a little bit, but it hardly helped.

Ing looked over at them a little confused. "Do what? What's going on guys?" She slide her arms from her coat and let it fall back on her chair.

"Well we were going to wait for Mira to show up, but I guess she's running late again." Willa said. She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Mira.

"As always." Ing sighed while reaching over to grab a menu. It was sort of a habit. She memorized the menu a few weeks after they had first started to come to The Roast and she always ordered the same thing. A slice of lightly sweetened vanilla cake, a glass of milk and a cup of green tea with a slice of lemon, but she read it anyways before setting it down and smiling up at Willa and Oliver. "So what's the big announcement?"

"Our timers." Willa exclaimed, biting her lip in anticipation for Ing's reply.

"Oh." Ing replied flatly and Willa's face deflated.

"What do you mean, 'Oh'?"

"Nothing it's just, aren't you guys a little, I dunno, nervous or scared."

"No." Oliver and Willa both said in unison.

"What if you guys aren't "the one" for each other, like what if your timers aren't set at zero, then what?" Ing asked looking down at the table nervously.

Before Willa or Oliver got a chance to answer, The Roast cafe door swung open and the three looked up to see Mira rushing over towards them. She plopped down on the seat next to Ollie, breathing heavily from her mouth.

She was panting heavily and hard as if she had ran the entire way here from where ever she had come from. "What did I miss guys? What's the 4-11?" She asked looking around at everyone's faces, her half smile fading into a slight frown when she saw a little tension between the three of them. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Willa finally chimed in, sounding only half believable. "Ollie and I decided that we're going to get our timers, that's all."

"Really? When?" Mira asked.

"I don't know tomorrow, the day after that, sometime before this weekend though." Willa replied, turning to ogle at Ollie.

"Gross guys." Mira cried out, "So have you guys thought about, like what if it's not you guys. I mean most people get theirs when their single, keeps the awkwardness at bay you know?"

"That's what I said." Ing chimed in.

Willa glared at Ing and let go of Ollie's hand. Ing waved her hands up in defense and mouthed the words 'I'm just saying.'

"We're fairly certain that we are. But I mean we're 21 and 19 and we're in college, we have our whole lives ahead of us."

Willa turned her gaze from Ing to Ollie and shot him a threatening glare, squinting her eyes.

"What I meant was…was.." Ollie fumbled.

"What he meant was, at least I hope, that we've been dating since high school, and besides no stupid timer is going to stop us from loving each other." Willa said defensively.

"Then why bother with it in the first place?" Ing asked, waving her hand gently at one of the waiters. Mira bit her lip and dug her phone from her pocket pretending to check for text messages. The waitress waved back at her and signaled that she'd be over in a few minutes.

"I'm just saying," Ing continued, "Wouldn't it be more excited to find out who? That's what life is all about. Besides don't you have to be at least 21 Willa?"

"I need order, Ing, I'm not like you. You're so relaxed and calm all the time and I don't know how you do it, but I need to know. It's literally driving me insane."

Ing still didn't understand everyone's fascination with those stupid timers. She couldn't imagine getting hers and then the green numbers beam to life, only to show the numbers at stuck at 00:00:00. She couldn't imagine it and she didn't want to.

"Also I got her a fake ID so we're…" Oliver began but Mira looked up from her phone and chimed in before he was finished.

"Sorry guys, I know I just got here, but I really have to go." She said standing up. "Emergency." She kissed Ollie and Ing on the cheek and blew a kiss across the table at Willa and headed for the door. The bell chimed signaling her exit.

"For your information, I'm not relaxed one bit, I guess I'm a bit better at hiding it though." Ing said slightly smiling at Willa.

Willa reached across the table for Ing's hand and Ing rested her hand in Willa's smooth hand. She rubbed her thumb across Ing's knuckles, reassuring her that everything would be okay. A weak smile crept across Willa's face.

"And I totally understand if you have no interest in getting yours, but will you at least come with us? Just thinking about it makes me nervous."

"Of course," Ing shot back, suddenly feeling defensive, but quickly added, "I heard there were needles involved and I wouldn't miss Oliver's squeamish self for the world." and Oliver gave her a light shove. "Oh and friendly moral support of course." She added.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, it means a lot to me!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for the upcoming chapters.

Feel free to leave reviews and/or constructive criticism. BOTH are much appreciated.