Removing my shoes, I tucked them under my bed, then placed the apple on my side table. I peeled off my clothes and redressed in my pajamas, my eyes never leaving the red edges of the peel where teeth had ripped into it. Once in my jammies, I crawled onto my mattress and curled into a ball at the head, glaring at the offending piece of fruit.
The edges of my mind trembled, and a headache bloomed behind my right eye. My heart hammered behind my ribcage. The telltale signs of a panic attack tickled the back of my neck. Oh God, not now!
Ashamed, I yanked my anti-anxiety pills out of my pillowcase where I kept them tucked out of sight and swallowed two of them dry. I loathed medicine, but sometimes, I couldn’t avoid it. It was either the pills or an anxiety attack.
I glowered at the apple as the medicine worked through my bloodstream, calming my heart and easing my frantic mind. My vision blurred, and my eyelids drooped. At long last, I closed my eyes, just to rest them.
As I slowly floated away, slender fingers drifted through my hair as a soothing floral scent drifted over me. I was alone in my room, but the sudden presence beside me didn’t frighten me. In fact, I breathed easier.
But no matter how much I wanted to revel in the kind, invisible touch grazing the shell of my ear, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be crazy. I just wanted to be normal.
I buried my face in my arms and ignored the gentle, affectionate fingers sifting through my mahogany curls. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
I wished I believed it.
Chapter Three
When I woke Friday morning, the juicy, white flesh of the apple had browned, and the edges of skin were peeling. With a disgruntled huff, I tossed the fruit into the trash, irritated at myself for keeping it by my bedside all night.
Brian’s bed was empty and untouched, the bedding rumpled from his romp yesterday afternoon with the nameless girl. My first class didn’t begin until ten, so I gathered his musty sheets and stripped my own mattress, throwing the large load into the washers in the communal laundry room in the basement.
One of the benefits of waking early was the empty laundry room. Taking advantage, I ran two loads simultaneously to clean my dirty clothes from the week. I played Legend of Zelda online as I waited for the washers’ cycles to finish, then transferred the loads into the dryers.
By the time the laundry finished, I had little time to fold it. I left my laundry bag of clean clothes on my bed and folded Brian’s sheets and placed them at the head of his mattress. He would complain of having to make his bed himself, but if I did it for him, I’d be late to my class.
Fridays were my lightest days in my school schedule, and by two in the afternoon, I was heading to the student center for a late lunch. The mess hall was practically deserted. Most students who were free at this time of day had better, more social things to do than hang around the student center alone.
According to Brian, the parties on campus were top notch. I assumed most of my peers spent their time at said parties. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly my scene. Crowds, alcohol, promiscuous behavior—the mere thought of such debauchery made my palms sweat. The last thing I needed was to wander into a college party and have an anxiety attack.
With eyes downcast and shoulders hunched—a tactic I utilized in high school to appear small and nonthreatening—I entered the mess hall. Rounding the corner, I missed the body on the other side and crashed shoulder-first into a hard chest. An unattractive yelp escaped my mouth as I almost lost my balance, but I righted myself at the last moment.
“Oh my God, I’m so sor…” My apologies died on my lips as I met the lightest pair of eyes I’d ever encountered.
Practically colorless save for a purplish starburst circling the pupil, the eyes captured me. Any chance of conversation stuck in my throat. The rest of his familiar features—sloping jaw, straight nose, alabaster skin, and pearly hair—registered, and my glitching brain jumped into overdrive.
“Sorry,” I finally finished lamely. “I’m sorry.”
Full, pink lips stretched into a hesitant smile as the pretty albino added a foot of space between our bodies. “I promise, there’s no apology necessary.” His lyrical voice washed over me like a familiar song I had only now remembered was one of my favorites, and an involuntary shiver snaked down my spine.
Someone brushed past me in an attempt to enter the mess hall, and I recoiled instinctively from the touch. My movement brought me closer to the pale-haired stranger, and I stiffened as the scent of sunshine and flowers wiggled a long-forgotten memory in my brain. Just as quickly as it appeared, the déjà vu evaporated like morning mist, leaving me baffled.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered again, and his smile widened.
“You already said that.” His tinkling laughter trilled through the air like wind chimes, the musical notes of his amusement crackling over my skin until my hairs stood on end. I floundered for something intelligent to say, but he saved me from my humiliating silence. “I’m Noel, by the way.”
“Like the Christmas song?” I blurted, and my face heated to boiling levels as he tucked a chunk of white hair behind his ear with another melodic chuckle.
“Yes, like the Christmas song.”
He offered his hand, and I accepted it automatically, nearly jumping out my skin the moment our palms met. Nostalgia crashed over me like a wave, and I felt the instantaneous sense of belonging, like coming home after an arduous journey. The urge to close the distance and embrace him like a long-lost friend overwhelmed me, but I fought it, locking my knees.
Like he feared hurting me, his grip was gentle as we shook hands, and I marveled at his petal-soft skin and delicately slender fingers. His hand swallowed my own completely.
Realizing it was my turn to speak, I forced my mouth to move only to regret it immediately. “That’s a pretty name.” I backtracked. “I mean, not pretty like girly, just that it sounds pretty. I mean, like, it’s a nice name.” I cringed. “Sorry.”
Noel bit his lower lip, staving off a laugh. “You’re right, it is a pretty name, isn’t it?”
My head twitched with a nod, my cheeks rosy. “Uh-huh.”
Wow, Riley, that was intelligent.
“Do you think I could have my hand back?” he asked kindly, and I balked at our hands, still clasped between us.
I ripped my hand from his, mortified at what the surrounding witnesses must think of us—two boys holding hands in the middle of the doorway. “I’m so sorry.” A strange tingle took up residence in my palm, and I hurriedly wiped my hand on my jeans in hopes of erasing the scary sensation.
What was wrong with me? Was I coming down with the flu? I did feel rather feverish.
“It’s okay.” Noel tilted his head, and a curtain of stick-straight strands blanketed the side of his face. “I should get going.”
“Right.” I sidestepped to give him room to leave and padded into the mess hall. “Sorry. Bye.”
“It was nice to meet you, Riley,” he said with a wave, backing toward the exit. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
With a wink and flourish of white hair, he was gone. I gaped at the empty doorway as I did my best to quell the humiliated blush burning my cheeks. My embarrassment distracted me until I sat down at an empty table. It was only then the realization hit me.