I awaken with a jerk, my hand shooting out defensively to collide with my bedside lamp and send it careening off the side table. With a groan I pull my hand into myself, flexing my fingers to try and work out the sting of the impact as I try and take my breaths from quick gasps to normal breaths. I squeeze my eyes closed. How long am I gonna have this damn dream?

A light knock sounds on the wall above my head and I let out a content sigh, knocking back with the hand that didn’t whack the lamp so that Lilly knows I’m okay. I’m not sure how many years this has been a habit of ours, but it warms me and makes me feel like a total wuss at the same time. Who needs their little sister to check up on them nearly every morning beside a total wuss?

She’s the youngest, but she could be the oldest in so many ways. From the moment she came into this world she had a deep understanding in her green eyes that has only grown in her 13 years on this earth. She may be young, but her soul is ancient. It shows in everything she does, from how she tends to me and our older brother, Damien, to how she’s always worn her feelings on her sleeves and been able to express them to those around her without being overbearing or needy.

I push myself to the edge of the bed and sit up, just as the soft strum of a guitar flows through the wall. For several minutes I simply sit there, letting the music soothe me. She’s been working on the song for weeks and it’s finally coming fully together without gaps or missed notes. Bending down I pick up the lamp and put it back on the bedside table before reaching for my phone.

I have a text waiting, as I do every morning, and I know before I even open it that it’s from Damien. What the text contains each day varies, from anything to a joke, a simple ‘How are you?’, and sometimes even a meme. Why the hell did I introduce him to those, anyway?

On this particular morning, the message is sarcasm. “Find solace in the fact that my work day is far shittier than your dreams, dear brother.”

I can’t help but chuckle, even though I’m sure his day is indeed pretty high up there on the scale of shittiness. He’s only two years older than me, but he works so often to support us that we rarely see him, and when we do we’re usually taking off his shoes because he’s passed out face down on his bed from exhaustion, not even making it under the covers.

I type in my reply before hitting send. “Maybe you should become a gold digger. Seems like a much easier job to me.”

His reply is almost instant. “You’re the one with girls fawning over you. I think that job would fit you much better.”

“You have two years more experience in the realm of women than I do. This is all you, bro.”

“Sadly, two years is nothing when it comes to understanding them. Guess I’m stuck paying the bills.” There’s a pause and then another text comes in. “Gotta get back to work. Have a good day. Stay out of trouble.”

“You too,” I shoot back, putting my phone back on the bedside table so I can get ready for school, even though I’d much rather stay in my bed and try and get a few more hours of sleep. If I don’t get the ball moving Lilly will stay in her room all day with her guitar and totally forget that school even exists.

I step out of my room and walk down the hall, knocking on her door before I push it open a crack to peek in at her. She’s still in her pajamas and her black hair is all over the place but she doesn’t seem to care. “I’m going to shower. When I get out you need to get in there or we’ll both be late.”

She nods without looking up and I close the door, moving the rest of the way down the hall to the bathroom. I move on autopilot, still lost in the fog of sleep as I move through my everyday morning routine. The warmth of the shower does nothing to help. I wish I could cocoon myself in the soothing comfort it offers all-day every day. That’s my million dollar idea and I’m sticking to it.

By the time I leave the bathroom, a towel tied around my waist, PJs tucked under my arm, Lilly is waiting outside the door, grumbling. She squeezes past me with a look of frustration.

“You can be such a girl in the mornings,” she prods before closing the door between us.

I scoff and roll my eyes before making my way back down the hall to my room to put on some clothes. Jeans and a T-shirt are my go to, paired with sneakers and hair that I simply comb my fingers through until it doesn’t defy gravity, which seems to be a family trait that none of us can get rid of.

I drop my phone into my pocket on the way out of my room and head to the kitchen where I throw some waffles in the toaster. I’m nearly done with mine when Lilly pops in, her dark hair pulled back into a bun, two sizes too big red sweater hardly staying on her shoulders, making me wonder if she stole it from Damien’s drawer, black leggings, and combat boots. You’d think the combination would look ridiculous but her lack of caring goes hand in hand with her ability to look good in just about anything.

She makes her own waffles, forgoing the syrup as we grab our backpacks and head out the door to walk the few blocks to the schools. The weather is cool, but thankfully not cold, since I forgot my hoodie. The leaves are in their transition from their lively green to the oddly beautiful yellows, reds, and oranges of their death.

I enjoy the fall because it leads to winter, which is my favorite season. It’s beautiful. The source of its joys is what keeps it from being my favorite. There’s just something about all the plants dying that makes me uncomfortable with enjoying it to that extent. Maybe I’m on my own in that weird view, but I can’t seem to help it.

When Lilly finishes with her waffles she bumps her shoulder into my own, pulling me from my thoughts. With a sigh, she tilts her head back to look up at the sky and the periodic branches that pass overhead as we walk.

“Do you ever get less sick of having to go to school, or does it just get worse over time?”

I can’t help but laugh at her question because I’ve often wondered the same exact thing. There has to be a way for it to not be so monotonous, right?

“Worse,” I respond, but with a grin that has her scrunching her face up in confusion. “Just wait until you reach high school. People will tell you over and over it’s the best days of your life, and you’ll spend every day wondering what the hell was so great about it for them that they think that way.”

She sighs, shoulders drooping, and I pat her on the back in an exaggerated manner until she playfully shoves me away from her, not that it does her much good with how much bigger than her I am. I could easily throw her over my shoulder and carry her the rest of the way to out schools without even breaking a sweat. It’s one of the many benefits of having a sister four years younger. Makes it easier to rough house and pick on her when she’s being a brat.

Before I know it we’ve reached the schools and we say our goodbyes. I stop and watch as she crosses the street and heads into her own school building. Only when I’m sure she’s fully inside with other eyes on her do I continue walking the last block to my own school. I make it inside with just enough time to stop at my locker to grab my books before heading to my first class of the day.

I enter the room to find Josh, my best friend, already in his seat, slumped over his desk in a position that shouts exhaustion. Patting him on the shoulder as I pass I fall into the seat behind him, dropping my books onto my desk with a thump before shoving my backpack between my feet. Josh grunts and raises his head to turn his brown eyes in my direction.

“Please tell me you did last nights homework,” he pleads, and I pass it to him with a narrowing of my eyes.

“Just hurry up. You know Mrs. Roberts has the eyes of a hawk and will know what’s happening as soon as she walks in.”

He nods, stiffly, as he quickly copies my answers down before passing the page back to me, just as the bell rings and Mrs. Roberts enters the room. She narrows her eyes at the both of us but says nothing as she makes her way to her desk, narrowly missing the opportunity to catch a few late stragglers who slide into class before the bell finishes ringing.

Mrs. Roberts switches on the projector on her desk for the notes we’re to take for the rest of class and moves behind the podium at the front of the class to start her lesson. She raises her head, mouth opening as she begins to speak, just as the door opens again, causing her to snap it closed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Everyone in the class sits up a bit straighter, waiting for the sure to come explosion on whoever it is that’s late. To everyone’s surprise, an unfamiliar face passes through the door.

A timid hand offers out a pass to Mrs. Roberts and she snatches it away, glancing at it as she motions for the girl to take a seat. I can’t look away as she makes her way across the room to sit a few rows away, her chin tilted down so her face is shielded behind her curtain of black hair. I don’t know what it is, but the pull I’m feeling towards her I’m powerless to fight. It takes everything in me to remain in my seat and not cross the room to her and ask her name.

A hand waves in front of my face and with a jerk I follow it up to meet Josh’s questioning eyes. He wiggles his eyebrows at me and makes a motion like he’s wiping drool off his chin and I want to punch him. Of course, that’s what he’d think, that it’s about how beautiful she is, but it isn’t. I’ve been around plenty of beautiful girls, but not a single one has made my heart get stuck in my throat and fall to my feet simultaneously with just one look at her.

I glare at him long enough that he turns back towards the front of the room and whatever Mrs. Roberts is saying. My eyes automatically seek her out again and I watch as her pen drifts across her notebook as she takes notes, her shoulders rolled forward in concentration, or maybe as yet another shield like her hair. Said hair falls to the middle of her back, shiny and straight. From her profile, I can tell she has soft, rounded facial features and I wish I could see the eyes that go along with them.

I’m jolted once again as the bell rings. Have I really been staring at her that long? Jesus, Aiden, get it together.

Before I can get my head back on straight Josh is dragging me from my desk by my arm, leaving me barely enough time to grab my bag and books before I’m pushed out into the hall in front of him as we head to our lockers. They sit side by side in the hallway, the same lockers we’ve had since freshman year when we first meet. He too, was the new kid once upon a time, and his warm, open personality sucked me in and we’ve been close ever since.

“What the heck, man? Do you know her or something?”

All I can do is shake my head as I open my locker and trade out my books. He does the same and then closes his locker to lean against it, narrowing his eyes at me as he looks me over. I’m not sure what he finds, but his lips pinch for a moment before he sighs. He reaches up to ruffle my hair and I smack his hand away, glaring at his wicked grin.

“Has my boy been bitten by the love bug?”

I open my mouth to retort but snap it closed as the topic of our conversation approaches the locker right beside mine. I look at Josh wide-eyed and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. I punch him in the arm and he grunts, pulling her attention for just a moment, long enough for me to realize her eyes are a bright blue, before she turns her attention back to the lock.

She tries the dial several times, glancing between it and the slip of paper in her hand, before sighing in frustration. I refuse to let my possibly one and only opportunity slip by and close my own locker.

“Do you need a hand?” I question, forcing on a confident smile, hoping I don’t look as bewildered as I feel as soon as her full focus is turned to me. It’s then, when we’re looking into each other’s eyes, that I understand what keeps pulling me to her. Within the depths of her eyes is a sorrow shining through that she couldn’t cover even if she wanted to, the same kind that I carry in my own.

“Sure,” she mumbles and passes me the slip of paper, stepping back so I can try my hand at her stingy lock. With deft hands, I spin in the combo and try to lift the latch with no response.

“Ah,” I exclaim, more to myself than her, “I don’t think you were getting it wrong, it just sticks.” Balling up my fist I give the locker door a good whack with the side of my hand and the latch pops loose. I step aside so she can get to her locker and hand her back her combination, giving her my best mega-watt smile.

“Thanks. Figures they’d give me the dud locker,” she almost grumbles, pursing her lips as she dumps her book from the previous class inside and pushes it closed.

“If you have any problems with it I’m here between just about every class.” I motion to my own locker to make my point. “I’m Aiden, by the way.”

“Destiny,” she responds with a small smile. “Thanks again, Aiden. I’ll keep you in mind if it gives me a hard time.” With a small nod, she turns to go to her next class and I’m left staring after her as Josh chuckles behind me.

“Lovebug it is, then,” he jokes, jabbing me with his elbow. I return the jab and he stumbles like I’ve shoved him, putting on a show.

“Shut it,” I warn, and he grins at me again before turning to go to his class as well, throwing me a wave over his shoulder.