Chapter 2 (William Anderson)

    William Anderson.
    He’s a year older than me, being a Senior. He’s not exactly the good, perfect boy in all the movies, but he’s nice. He’s brutally honest when need be and to me he was just…perfect.
    He knows more about me than almost anyone. It’s mind-blowing. He knows that my favorite color is baby blue, that I want to be a fashion designer when I’m older, that I always touch my hair when I’m nervous, and that my favorite type of music is somewhere between alternative and pop. He knew about all my little quirks and every favorite moment of mine was with him.
    He was always there to watch my favorite movies and hold me wile I cried. He let me tell him all my favorite parts even though we’d seen the show or movie a million times. He sang to all my music while I danced to Purple Rain. He knew that I like to dress a little differently than everyone just to stand out, but not too much.
    Will used to be my boyfriend and then my ex-boyfriend and now he’s…well, I don’t exactly know what he is right now. Still my ex, I guess. We’d gone out Junior year but broken up last summer because he wanted to give me space so I could get over the death of my grandmother who died not two weeks after my grandfather. We’d gone to Worcester for a week for the funeral and by the time we’d gotten back Will had a new girlfriend. We’d never gotten back together and he stayed with the girl all Senior year.
    But that one stupid night.
    I’ve never really been a strong person. It was hard to resist when he’d called me in the middle of the night to come outside and take a walk with him. We did what we’d done so many times before. We took a couple blankets down to the empty beach and watched the moon. Only this time, we’d gone a lot farther than we ever had.
    It’s difficult not to think about that night the moment I see him.
    “Morning.” I say to him brightly though my palms begin to sweat and my heart beats faster. Not in a good way.
    “Morning.” Will replies, sounding a bit confused, but quickly hides it. “You know, I've never seen you wear the same outfit twice.” He says, touching the black rose made of tulle on the left strap of my tank top. Then he eyes my skirt, sneakers, and the large, black rose ring in my finger.
    I feel the familiar butterflies and move away slightly.
    His hand drops. “So are we still on for your sister’s wedding?” He asks, his lips turning up a little in a crooked smile.
    “Are you still with Becca Cooper?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then, no.” I say casually and close my locker.
    I try not to look at him. At his dark hair, warm brown eyes, and all together classically handsome face. I know without looking that he’s wearing his usual summer uniform of faded jeans and a t-shirt.
    “Why not?” He asks, following after me down the hall.
    Don’t look, don’t look.
    “You know I’m not into drama, Will.” I say. Too bad that there’s nothing but drama to come.
    “No drama.” He says simply.
    I don’t reply.
    “Rox.” He says and touches my shoulder so that I turn to him with a hammering heart. “Are you alright? You‘ve been so M.I.A. lately.”
    I come so close to telling him my fear, but just thinking about it near him make my heart speed up again and my hands sweat again. My stomach turns to jelly and I don’t say a word about it.
    “I’m fine.” I reply, noticing how my voice has gotten light and airy the way it always does when I say this particular lie. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I can only hope that he hasn’t noticed.
    “Why are you doing that?” He asks.
    “Doing what?”
    “Smiling through your a*s.” He replies and I flinch. His tone is not nearly angry though.
    “Is that your subtle way of calling me fake?” I ask my eyebrows pulling together.
    “What’s wrong, Rox?” He asks, ignoring my question and looking at me seriously.
    I feel my pulse stutter.
    There was the sound of a telephone ringing. The bell I’d gotten so used to over the years.
    Saved by the bell, how cliché.
    “I’m okay, Will.” I say, smiling and back away. “Have a good summer.” Then I leave him.
     As I walk away, I wish that I can leave everything behind with him. The feelings I still have, the worries, the drama, the problem. But nothing’s that easy.
    I’m desperate for some escape. There always seems to be one for nearly everything, but not for this one.