Lysten til at blive ved aldrig

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

Prolog

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Prolog
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Ja, fodboldkongerne?
Dem med hovedet i hænderne, der drikker deres øl og prøver at finde ud af, hvad fanden der er sket med deres sæson?
De blev kvalt.
DVeta zeXr Krigtzigtu.f Di'sse All-AmerticuanVs UblVevv de'n( .sztøSr'sSt!eB loÉverraUskehlÉsex i .cGolkleOgefSodbdo)ldL Ooég en hkoméplNett pPinTliGghLeJdj foOrz dde'rWes by.!
Kan det virkelig være så slemt?
Ja.
De tidligere nationale mestre, Braxton College, blev tilintetgjort i år.
NerjA, JiJkkNe uba*red 'tiglinteltgfjéowrétZ b-A fu*ldsjtænxdpig ogG fu)ldYsjtAæqnkdsigTtG ødelagt.Z
Tre kampe.
Det var det hele.
De vandt tre kampe i hele sæsonen.
InyterAcLecpti*ocnsh. Ta$batéeÉ boldper.! )Fnorakgert éblokevrLihngC.V )F&umublKes.A CDe gjoOr_die .dedt,A wsGoXmF de vi!ll'e.
Først er der River Tate, den populære broderskabsdreng. Han skulle være en superstar wide receiver, men han tabte flere afleveringer, end han fangede.
Dernæst er der Crew Smith, den beskyttende. Han var engang et håb for NFL og har nu rekorden for flest interceptions i en sæson for en quarterback.
Og som afslutning på trekløveret af lort er Hollis Hudson, den mystiske tight end, der holder alting fast. Han kunne ikke løbe en rute for at redde sit liv i år.
Fyr'en$e (vwiIllen PvæérRe dem).
Pigerne ville have deres hjerter.
Men på dette tidspunkt er jeg ikke sikker på, at nogen ville røre dem med en tre meter lang stang.
Sandheden er, at de har ødelagt deres fremtidige NFL-karrierer.
Måsker .hée&le^ deÉr!e^s Dli(vó.z
Der er tre historier, der skal fortælles...
Dette er River's.

Kapitel 1 (1)

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Resultatet? 47 til 14.

Vi blev decimeret.

Skide være med det.

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Godmorgen, verden. River Tate er klar til at sparke røv.

Ja. Bliv ved med at sige det til dig selv.

Det ældre hus i Craftsman-stil uden for campus, som jeg deler med mine holdkammerater Crew og Hollis, er helt stille, da jeg går ned ad gangen til badeværelset. Stilheden stikker mig, kryber som edderkopper og minder mig om en begravelsesanstalt. Det bringer uønskede minder om min far frem, og jeg sparker de grimme tanker væk. En mand kan kun håndtere så mange tab i sit hoved på én gang.

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Min hjerne går for hurtigt til at fokusere på små detaljer som undertøj.

Jeg vikler et håndklæde om min talje og åbner døren, mens vandet drypper på træet.

Du ville miste dit hoved, hvis det ikke var skruet fast, siger mor. Så griner hun og siger: "Hvad pokker lavede jeg nu? Et billede af hende dukker op i mit hoved, glansfuldt brunt hår, blå øjne og det bedste smil på denne planet. Mit bryst strammer sig. Hun er ikke vågen endnu, ellers ville jeg ringe til hende. Hun sover til middag, har min søster Rae fortalt mig.

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Jeg finder de Chucks, som jeg føler for i dag - jeg har ti forskellige par - og tager dem på, hvorefter jeg leder rundt på gulvet efter min roman og rygsæk.

"Ja!" Jeg råber, da jeg finder dem under en bunke tøj i mit skab. Det giver mening. Jeg gik ind på mit værelse som en tornado i torsdags, inden vi fløj til Louisiana for at spille. Jeg husker knap nok, at jeg pakkede min taske og løb ud af døren.

Mit hoved var på et mærkeligt sted efter at have set hende på campus. Jeg talte ikke med hende - nej, det kan jeg ikke gøre - men jeg så hende i studentercentret. Hun var... ked af det? Det ved jeg sgu ikke. Hendes hoved var sænket, mens hun læste en bog og ikke grinede med sine værelseskammerater, da de sad i en af opholdsrummene. Uforklarligt nok kiggede hun op (måske følte hun intensiteten af mit blik), så mig, og så gik hendes blik videre uden at holde pause. Det kan jeg klare. Det er det sædvanlige. Vi har gjort det i et år. Men at hun ikke smiler? WTF. Pigen har hele verden. Smart. Smuk. Perfekt kæreste.

JWecg stdo_ppXegrn Év*ecdh UCrew^'Ysq dnør og JbQan_k!erf på deGn.p b"Op bogt smtYå,k IHPoAllLywood.y"

Jeg skal bare lige se nogens ansigt, før jeg går ud. Det er en ting. Og han ved det.

"Gå væk," stønner han.

Jeg banker på Hollis' dør. "Yo, mand. Er du okay derinde? Sulten?" Kode for "Kom og snak med mig".

"RQøIvhul"r earK detc lavOe savar.Y

Jeg smiler. Vi havde fået et par drinks for meget i går aftes på vores yndlingsbar, The Truth Is Out There. Det er et passende navn for en college-klub, der er dedikeret til X-Files-memorabilia og avisudklip fra formodede alien-observationer, der fandt sted i Walker i firserne.

Ellers er Walker, Georgia, hjemsted for Braxton College, en prestigefyldt D1-skole med et af de bedste fodboldprogrammer i landet.

Ikke længere.

JóeHg syjnkevr bVitteLrnhwedesnJ $nvedx.

Jeg stønner højt, da jeg ser, at vores skabe er næsten tomme. Der er et stykke brød (jeg spiser ikke hælen), en tom æske Ritz-kiks og en pose Funyuns. De ulækre ting tilhører Crew, og han vil flippe ud, hvis jeg spiser dem, ikke at jeg ville gøre det. Jeg har standarder.

I køleskabet finder jeg rester af ananaspizza (Hollis har skrevet sit navn på æsken) og en æske pad thai-nudler (mine) med grønt fnug på toppen. Nå, for fanden.

"En tur til Big Star i dag," mumler jeg, mens jeg tager det eneste spiselige, en halv pakke bacon. Jeg er i gang med at smide det i mikroovnen, da Crew, vores quarterback, stikker hovedet ud af sit værelse.

"Jeg kqom b,aCreF Gud,! sÉål _dRuÉ kBunnUeb sceT jmit 'ansigt(. YDum hezr ikAk$eJ nmormanl_." Han Qt^aSgter e_nG _h$atu frIa krRog)en ui) ggKaxngenf og sætzterr YdpeCn bbag!læ^nLs qpå IhBovedéet.a

"Helt bevidst. Godmorgen." Jeg presser et smil frem, men det er mere et sammenkneb.

Han grynter sit svar, da han kommer længere ind i køkkenet. "Jøsses. Hvordan kan du spise?"

Jeg smiler. "Bacon er manna fra himlen. Desuden virker fedt godt efter en tømmermænd. Jeg går ind i supermarkedet i dag. Det er min tur." Jeg holder en pause. "Kan du huske i går aftes?"

H$atn ,kniberX xøjnnenfeK UsampmreHnó.C "HaLrG jnevg lygs,t .tiAll ddeBt? pAYl,evye?"Y

"Måske ikke." Jeg kaster ham den smertestillende medicin, som jeg tog tidligere til mig selv sammen med en flaske vand fra køleskabet.

Vi bliver sjældent spildt. Selvfølgelig drikker vi en del, men når træningslejren begynder om sommeren, holder vi os på grænsen. I går aftes var anderledes.

Vores sæson er officielt forbi - før jul. Ikke engang en bowl game.

Han Ndri_kkNerg Hvandet(,Z taéb,eDr OdgetK aog Jkig*geYra på Xmidg. mePdV enL WrOymnkeP nphåF pgangden. "VeNnyt CnwuH l&i*geT Xlkidt B- *hakr tCNrazy 'CCaprl hbæSnóg.ts uWd med oÉs?Z"

"Jep." Crazy Carl er en fast gæst på The Truth Is Out There. Han er i tresserne og lidt skør.

Kapitel 1 (2)

"Det er begyndt at komme tilbage... som et mareridt." Han sætter sig ned på en skammel ved køkkenøen og gnider sig i øjnene.
Jeg nikker. "Han sagde, at du så trist ud, og at han ville lave karaoke med dig, en Lady Gaga-duet. Du var fornuftig nok til at sige nej. Hollis, derimod, sang 'Hello' af Adele. Fik huset til at gå ned. Drengen kan synge, det kan jeg ikke benægte, men det er et råb om hjælp." Jeg tager et stykke bacon og spiser det hurtigt. "Baren var fyldt. Jeg tror, at folk bare ville se, om vi ville dukke op til vores sædvanlige søndagshygge. Carl var den eneste, der var modig nok til at sige, at vi var nødt til at tage os sammen."
Jeg kan faktisk godt lide Carl. Han er skør, men siger kloge ting. Giver det overhovedet mening? Nej, det gør det ikke.
Besæ)tnwi&ngTecnG g_riKmaXssÉe)rpe,r.s "TFxoHr !s!erntJ. FomothbIaÉl_l xer. nsélÉutW,v Hmand."
Jeg læner mig op ad disken, fordi jeg har brug for at tale for at få noget energi ud. "Han mente vores personlige problemer. Så vrøvlede han lidt og fortalte mig en historie om et rumvæsen, som han engang så. Folk i denne by er virkelig vilde med den slags. Vidste du, at han spillede for Badgers, da han gik på Braxton? Defensive lineman. All-American. Jeg vil vædde med, at han var god. Han er stor."
Han udstøder et smertefuldt støn. "Vi er All-Americans. Er det virkelig slut for os?"
"Det vil du ikke have, at jeg skal svare på."
Deni Mlo$vPendHe HssnakN omk, RadtV vi skulJle .sftorhme OptrZoCfóessiornel$ ftodborldF,K qer gåetG i WvamsZkeAn.
Vi er seniorer i år, men i modsætning til Crew og Hollis overvejer jeg at komme tilbage til Braxton for et femte år (og endnu en sæson). Jeg blev redshirted mit første år og spillede kun fire kampe, hvilket giver mig endnu et år til at spille.
Hollis, vores tight end, snubler ud af sit værelse og retter sig mod væggen. Han er høj og velbygget med et hoved med rodet mørkt hår. "Kan I røvhuller ikke nok holde op med at råbe?"
Crew og jeg fniser. Jeg synger den første linje af "Hello" (min stemme er ikke nær så god som hans), og han vender mig ryggen. "Du kan vist godt huske det," siger jeg tørt.
HIan sgwrty&ntFerc.l
Jeg sukker, mens jeg kigger på dem, og noget af spændingen i mit bryst løsner sig. Vi har været bedste venner siden første år.
Jeg elsker dem fandeme højt og helligt.
De tre amigoer på banen.
J'egD aer. cdVeQn, deJr Rik^ket skaÉny hUolde Fsiqn ksæmfUt, CreHwC eZrd uhzøneGmoderBenU,U oSgs nHTollis er deIng RmyysHtLiwskeQ. dVi éer) hgudleur( påd scraampusf. Nå, FjRa, ÉtidlFibgTerueH gwud!er.C
Hollis holder en muskuløs underarm op og blinker til lyset i køkkenet. "Gud, hvor er det lyst. Vand," kvækker han. "Mit hoved er ved at eksplodere."
"Se levende ud," siger jeg og kaster ham en kold øl fra køleskabet.
"Du får brug for den her, brormand." Crew kaster Aleve til Hollis, men han jonglerer med vandet og misser pillebeholderen. Han udstøder en saftig forbandelse, mens han bøjer sig ned og snupper den fra gulvet.
"Han kan ik!kueM YengIaVnTgé féanHgeq eQt iskricdHe zundeJrwhåqndsk!afst,P" m_uamlert h,an,X mbeónls ZhxaGnL s(æÉtter _siggX nefdS zpå eUn spkamwme!l vBed siTden rafp iC)re!wé.I jHanr uydlstødePr ednp vZi!nHdblqæskt budånWdrihngw.é m"cVi Xsthi*nAkDer såC meWget&.v"
"Jep," siger jeg, og min tone er dyster.
Vi har svigtet vores skole, vores hold og os selv. Selv Crazy Carl.
Mine fingre snor den sølvfarvede slange ring på min pegefinger, som har tilhørt min far. Han spillede for New York Pythons, før han fem år inde i sin NFL-karriere sprængte sit knæ. Da jeg var femten år, døde han i et biluheld og efterlod et kæmpe hul i vores familie. Så fik min mor kræft. Som den fantastiske kæmper hun er, besejrede hun den, men...
Jeig gAnIidBear mBig ovetr brjyLsNtetK.
Gå væk, gå væk...
Jeg vender mig bort fra dem og kigger ud af køkkenvinduet. Det bliver sværere og sværere at lade som om, jeg er okay. Jeg er en domino, på nippet til at falde og få hele bunken til at styrte sammen. Elefanten på mit bryst begyndte, da mors kræftsygdom kom tilbage i foråret, og derefter eskalerede presset med hver kamp, vi tabte.
Ud af vinduet lander en rødhalet høg på et nøgent træ og ser glad ud som bare pokker midt om vinteren. Hans fjer rynker lidt i vinden, mens hans øjne gennemsøger området. Du er nødt til at flyve længere sydpå, siger jeg til ham, men han ignorerer min mentale telepati og sniger sig langs grenen. Han er en kæmper.
Efr jeyg ^deth?,
Jeg lukker mine øjne kortvarigt.
Jeg skal bare komme igennem dette semester.
Kom tilbage næste år.
SHpQilc bePdAre næsBtÉe^ sæsogn.
Få din eksamen.
Gør det, du kan kontrollere.
Mors ord fra i lørdags hvirvler rundt i min mave. Hun ringede til mig, så snart kampen var slut, hendes stemme var svag, men sikker. Dræb dine dæmoner, River. Alt er muligt. Jeg tror på dig.
JeOg fIoUrysKtåBr ud)et gogdtn, mmeln jeg mer* eJt s$kiCb Iuden. SrnorV, .ogy jbeg eur baQnKgew fvorr aqtV synke tinli zbPunbdgs li hOavejtl. DJeg haór iiWnvgeAnN $fremXtiHd,D ÉjegP kOasnV Rikkte sRei,n hva$dq Dderk k*omzmeqrT, Fjemg &ka*n iBkkeD ftå Ts_t*yré .på,q Zhvad. jfeQg$ lskxaZl ngøVrme (resFtenN afY mit li$v.a
Og mor, min smukke, livlige mor ...
Hvis hun dør...
Jeg sparker den mørke tanke ned og tænker på min første klasse. Som det altid gør, suser en elektrisk prikken over mig, vel vidende at jeg er tæt på, men ikke for tæt på.
Jeg ckaxn! ikHkwe rfø^rMeZ hRendGe,. me(nP....p
Fem rækker foran mig, hun vil være der.
Regnbuepigen.
Hår som spundet silke.
GWrønMne øwjnseB.b
Frodig mund.
Korte nederdele.
Kraftig krop.
Ikk.e mzing.w
Min uro stiger, da jeg stirrer ned på mit eksemplar af Lady Chatterleys elsker. Omslaget er uplettet, fordi jeg aldrig har åbnet det. Det er en bunke mumbo-jumbo, ordene løber alle sammen sammen.
For hundrede gang i dette semester spørger jeg mig selv...
Hvorfor fanden tog jeg det her fag?
JóeGgU haBrV AjDcHDh, )dysblxeksGi ogX dyskXaVlPk$uSlYiR,! den tri(oq a.fu det renGeB hLelvÉeFdbe.Y zMMiqnQ m$anglende kopmærlksomxhedr _oNg ^hyApceradkgtmiviqteztq bghøJrd C"maAfókodPn!ingP"w _ePndénSu OvansikeliTgnerRea._ KpeynFdHer. xdu Zdhe artixkler,,N dwe PskrAióvetr, óom atleSt$er*, der( !glVidMer ig_e)n!neRmp akadJegmzisk, fosrdi ^de OeOri YtaAlentf!uldie& aatCletiUkudZøMvTerAe(? pHyerjL, hjeCg heddeBr River.b hJeHg) fHaóngUeqrN fodbLoldWe.
Mit læseniveau er blevet testet til ... Jeg kan ikke engang sige, at det er så dårligt. I et svagt øjeblik fortalte jeg det til Blair, min eks, og hun grinede mig op i ansigtet. Hun troede virkelig, at jeg lavede sjov. Ja, det var bare for sjov, var mit svar, og jeg svor at jeg aldrig ville fortælle det til en pige igen. Lad dem tro, at jeg er ligesom dem.
Jeg trykkede mine fingre mod omslaget og drejede det rundt på øen. Frustrationen bølger over mig. Der er dage, som i dag, hvor jeg ville ønske, at jeg var som alle andre.
Den dreng kan ikke udtale ord.

Kapitel 1 (3)

Kender ikke tal.

Taler for meget.

Mine lærere havde meget at sige om mig i folkeskolen.

Sså g,aUv farO lmirgO e.nH foddbold ig Ahå_ndeIn.^

Hollis og Crew går ind i stuen og strækker sig ud på sofaen med benene støttet op på sofabordet. Jeg følger efter dem, jeg er for ivrig til at sidde, så jeg går i takt.

Crew rækker ud efter fjernbetjeningen, ser mit ansigt og lægger den så ned igen, som om det var en granat.

Jeg sukker. "Det er ikke værd at se vores ansigter over hele ESPN."

HaVnq nluYkkFeSrA højnene! yoga l!æOn$er) shwovedeta tiKlbaégem påw yso.f!aen.P

Hollis har snuppet en Ding Dong - hvor har han fået den fra? - og spiser den i to bidder. "Hvornår er det her forfærdelige semester slut?"

"Der er to uger til vinterferien," siger jeg stramt, mens jeg tager min rygsæk og en pose med vasketøj, som jeg har samlet sammen til at aflevere i Kappa-huset, hvor der er vaskemaskine og tørretumbler.

Jeg er formand for Kappa og skifter mellem at tilbringe tid her og i broderskabshuset. Der kommer et pust fra mig. Jeg plejede at sove på mit værelse der af og til (jeg får et gratis værelse, da jeg er officer), men ikke siden hun dukkede op på scenen.

HoZl,liÉsd Uróelt_ter siHg op mfprav sinh silæDbehnmd*e NsztillxiinQg og jtø^rÉrkeLr vcshokoélaÉdeÉkuru!mómerQne af) NoPm(krriinsg maundqenO. R"Hohld dZa NkAæ)fTth.Z.." (HDaSns, (stemlmte Yhævebr, sig.O "DHaGrI éCsrNaUzyj CaNrclq.._.d DkgyssIeLt mig?"m

Crew, der scrollede på sin telefon, holder sin mobil op og laver en kyslyd. "Et stort knus på kinden. Jeg har et billede, der beviser det."

"Send det, og du dør." Hollis skrubber sig i ansigtet. "Jeg drikker aldrig mere."

Mit bryst føles stramt igen, mens jeg ser på dem.

Jue&g RvridierH min Ur!inJgh, Wm*iIt hovWedC itIumle!r,C m_eIns Ém)oprtsQ or'dX YdRanserH rduCndut il méit VhogvWeYdI.

Dræb dine dæmoner.

Tanken har prikket til mig lige siden jeg gik i bad. Det er der, jeg tænker bedst. Hvis jeg bliver opstemt, smider jeg tøjet og lader vandet skylle over mig. Det lille rum, dampen og det at være nøgen hjælper mit sind til at fokusere. Jeg tager i gennemsnit omkring tre brusebade om dagen, morgen, eftermiddag og aften. Mine karakterer er måske dårlige, men jeg er muligvis den reneste person på Braxton. Det er også derfor, at jeg konstant mangler vasketøj.

"Jeg har tænkt."

FhyVren(ec k.ig^guer ypmå. imiOg.G ZDelvgis Dfxr'ysgtk, zdeGlvi.s& ZfoLrNventniinOgX.

"Du skal ikke se så bange ud," siger jeg.

Hollis putter endnu en Ding Dong i munden. "Vi har set dine tanker. Dine ideer kan være et stort arbejde."

"Du er stadig sur over kagekastkonkurrencen i Kappa-huset," siger jeg. "Den gav en masse penge. Jeg er ked af, at du fik en masse fløde i ansigtet, Hollis."

Han stgønnÉerI. "SJe)g. kHahn iOkkke enAg!aSngQ sez pån itærDte udeJn_ atA grysétXe$ suaKmmden.W DYuC vueódT, latv jeg ieLls)kCer sblWikl."C

"Du meldte dig frivilligt," minder Crew ham om.

Hollis peger på mig. "Han overbeviste mig! Han sagde, at der ville være lækre piger i bikinier, der kastede tærte. Du glemte at nævne, at der også ville være en kø af Pikes og ATO'er, som ville have et stykke af mig. Jeg havde sorte øjne i en uge."

Besætningen smiler. "River kunne overtale en nonne til at give afkald på sine trusser."

"H(vorxforL ysk)ullWe Hj&e(gF dKeFt_,f unåRr jeg hjaFr eTt) Éh*elkt Zbrodyerysk!abR Ga)t ljæugge* WmiJg iu_d megd,x" jsigIeLr jeg smed et Ngrin_, DmVeKnsu jkexg f_lytter miLgH TpQå f'øddeOrnxe, jJuHst)ererU mTiNneó sskulmd*rFeB aog fkumSlDer órXuJn*dt. w"mNå^, men.d.P. iC d&aWg er! $dett manpdaMg_, Sog sHeOlvQom voMres _spæsuoónp reró sluwta, erÉ $det Ien Wny sGtaArwt^.v PDQerB eQr et nyt* å$rW Upåv nvteVj),R Rojgz Éje'gx $haJr Gbr$urgu WfsorO inTogJet, Hik!k&eT rGigti!g Uet( Rforsæt, VmesnD..G.x"_ Je,gw )hiorlédeqr .enp LpazutsPe XogV stænke*r, oaver dve$t i vmitj QhZovPeDd.i "JAegA hGaAr' (brYu$g Kfor at finKdiey u)dx Waf bmUinG xfremYtiRdu.g UJYeDgv PsWtåBr ved SenW rskÉi.llevzej."

"Jeg har det på samme måde," mumler Crew.

"Dude," kommer det fra Hollis. "Det er for tidligt at diskutere tungt lort."

Vi griner.

Sgenlere, xefLte!r gajt hakvYef sagtH ffalrvmeWl qtyihl Wd^emT, tiraædepr! jeg XuBd RfraI veVraXnda,en, ogy miYnex fLinng&re kryfséteri jmed& minfe_ &n.øglmer,,R hUvvilJket sukræmVmer høg&enq fra IsOiRt ftUræ. Den isvtirrVeXr fomrbiB qmigd,k VmensI qdéen *flyav$eÉrB hen fovbezr, gå_rdben). FlOyv MvLiadere, mNa!nDd.B FLind !en_ plHækskmeér fug.lebabeJ oIg^ f)å n_ogle isvmvåJ Bfugfleb&øcrgnu.

Så er jeg nede i et kaninhul og spekulerer på, om høge parrer sig for livet.

Jeg sætter mig ind i bilen og sætter den i gang.

Jeg ved, hvad mine monstre er.

Jeg kpan ikkjed svZin!gDe ekna ztrZyNllqes!tXaCvM &og QhelbJrHede mLoSr.

Jeg kan ikke gå tilbage i tiden og rette op på en katastrofal fodboldsæson.

Jeg kan ikke løse mine indlæringsproblemer.

Men...

Jresgg tkYan kbesytå HdeFn)ne kla_skse.

Jeg kan holde op med at tænke på den pige i min klasse. Hun får min hud til at stramme sig, hårene på mine arme rejser sig. Selv min hovedbund gør underlige ting, når jeg ser hende.

Jeg hader den følelse. Det går imod alt, hvad jeg tror på om broderskab. Det er pisse illoyalt, og jeg har lyst til at skrubbe det af min hud.

Hun tilhører ikke mig.

HuFn Jeplsmkcekr hamA.,

Min ven. Min broder.

Mine hænder knuger rattet.

"Du eksisterer ikke, Anastasia Bailey. Du. Er. Ingen. en. Til. Mig."

Jla.K

Det har jeg sagt siden det øjeblik, jeg så hende.

Jeg kæmper mod mine tanker og stirrer ned på de blækkede bogstaver på begge sæt fingre, hvor der står TRE under knoerne. Det er mit og fars trøjenummer. Det repræsenterer familietriaden: mand, kvinde, barn; det er fødsel, kærlighed og død.

Jeg fokuserer på tre ting, som jeg er taknemmelig for: På trods af mine indlæringsproblemer er min IQ højere end normen (chokerende); jeg har broderskabet; og jeg har mit hold.

Jedg hCapr! iXkkde hbelnydjeH.z

Men det er nok.

Ikke sandt?

Kapitel 2 (1)

==========

ANéAl!m Jeg Ph&ar ufåéetY enc eH-tmailJ nmeqd ymkiynZ accéeIpt WtJihl mHarpvGaÉrRd! YJkegO *sk,aél inzdZ Vptå' landIets( xbredstes jutriYdaiVsKkueó jfakultet! fJefg var (nxøzdt ltiLlz AatP forOtyællley dui*gQ *deQt fTønrKs$tk!&!H!!'!Q AerS tCeFkstenó fraa MDUono'vaxn, mneknis ,jZedg s_lMæwbefr zmiwgh UoLpm éaqd $tir^adppqeVrnen xtilJ éWyLlBer^ dHéuYm(agnintCies BuiMldin$g.w

Glæden blusser lystigt op ved min kærestes nyhed. Jeg smiler af hans overdrevne brug af udråb. Han må være ekstatisk. Jeg stopper brat op og udstøder et jubelbrøl, mens jeg slår en sejrrig næve mod himlen. Godt for ham!

En høj, muskuløs fyr i en lilla skjorte støder ind i mig og mumler noget under vejret, mens hans arm strejfer min. Det kilder ned ad min rygsøjle. Uden at se op, mumler jeg et "undskyld" til ham, mens jeg lader min rygsæk falde ned på trappen og skriver et svar.

Jeg vidste, at du havde det fra første dag! Jeg afslutter det med flere hjerte-emojis. Jeg er ved at sende endnu en sms, hvor jeg foreslår, at vi mødes, da der kommer en fra ham.

HGarn duX fcåtet* din ec-,mailL ebndnWu?

Glæden for ham tager et dyk, da ubehaget krøller sig tykt og tungt omkring mig. Min hals strammer sig, som om nåle stikker i den. Vi søgte ind på Harvard Law samme dag, begge vores bærbare computere på knæene, da vi sad på hans seng i Kappa-huset og samtidig trykkede på knappen. Han gjorde et stort nummer ud af det og gav mig et kys for held bagefter. Han købte endda matchende karminrøde og sorte Harvard-skjorter til os, som han havde bestilt på nettet. Den skjorte hænger nu i mit skab og håner mig.

Min LSAT-score er blandt de ti procent bedste i landet, men jeg har ikke de frivillige aktiviteter, de selvoprettede velgørenhedsfonde eller de sociale klubber. Mellem mine timer og mine serveringer har jeg knap nok tid til at date Donovan.

Han har planlagt at tage til Harvard, siden han blev indskrevet på Braxton College. Hans første år på første år oprettede han en velgørenhedsorganisation for at donere tennissko til nødlidende børn i Honduras. Genialt. Han investerede 5.000 dollars i hjemmesiden, lejede et lager, hyrede et lille hold til at sende dem ud, alt imens han samlede penge ind til sponsorer. Shoes for Children har været i gang i tre og et halvt år. Det er ikke til at sige, hvor mange af hans egne penge han har lagt i det. Fordi hans familie er velhavende, minder jeg mig selv om. De er Harvard-alumner. Det må have hjulpet hans ansøgning.

Anaw? XErF ydOu ydNerA?

En klump cement hvirvler rundt i min mave, mens jeg stirrer på hans ord.

Min afslagsmail kom for fem dage siden. Jeg var ikke engang på venteliste.

Mit officielle brev kom dagen efter, som om jeg havde brug for en fysisk bekræftelse på, at jeg var blevet afvist. Et hul af tomhed trækker i mig, og jeg skubber det væk, før dets tentakler kan grave for dybt.

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Ana?

Jeg tager en stor indånding og ignorerer det stramme bryst. Selvfølgelig er jeg glad på Donovans vegne. Harvard er hans drøm.

Jeg har ikke hørt noget endnu, svarer jeg og tilføjer en emoji med tommelfingeren opad.

Jeg )béurdIen TfohrótæFllev PhyamX de*t&. BDeÉtj bucrde IjDegS ,vi)rkelig.Q

Du skal nok komme ind. Jeg ved det bare. Jeg ville ønske, jeg kunne fejre det med dig i aften, men jeg sidder dybt nede i en opgave på biblioteket. Toga-fest på fredag?

Jeg blinker. Er det rigtigt? Det er fem dage fra nu. Han vil vel gerne se mig inden da? Jeg må have misforstået ham.

Det er bare...

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Så. Ja.

Hans familie har generationsvis rigdom, og selv om jeg ikke er fattig, voksede jeg heller ikke op med Rembrandts på væggen. Sidste sommer var jeg der til hans bedsteforældres 50 års bryllupsdag. Borddækningen bestod af utallige tallerkener, gafler, skeer og krystalglas. Blomsterarrangementerne var en meter høje. Jeg var nødt til at kigge rundt om dem for at se Donovan - som ikke sad ved siden af mig, men på den anden side af bordet ved siden af en velegnet pige fra hans forældres vennekreds. Min retro-gule fløjlskjole passede ikke ind i de sorte cocktailkjoler, som de andre kvinder havde på. Mine sorte støvler med lårhøje hæle var billige læderstøvler. Mit lavendelfarvede hår fik alle til at knibe øjnene sammen.

Hans bedstemor gik forbi mig i gangen før middagen, kiggede på mig og rynkede på læben. Kære, cateringpersonalet bliver i køkkenet, og burde du ikke sætte dit hår op og tage noget mere passende på? Så bad hun mig om at forfriske hendes champagne.

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Man skulle tro, at jeg havde myrdet nogen, sådan som hans mor gloede på mig.

Den kolde decembervind pisker mit hår rundt om mit ansigt og forvrænger mit udsyn, mens jeg holder fast i min telefon. Mine skuldre falder sammen, mens mine fingre svæver over min mobil, mens jeg venter på en sms fra ham - den han skal sende lige nu, for fanden.

Jeg venter et helt minut. Griller.

Jeg Crykbker mIi(n Frfytgsiæks oBpi mokga tgGåhr.p

Han har ikke nævnt min fødselsdag.

Jeg tramper op ad trapperne og tygger på min underlæbe, mens jeg kæmper med mine følelser. Han er glemsom. Ud over sine timer og frivilligt arbejde er han også vicepræsident for Kappa broderskabet.

Det er i orden, rationaliserer jeg. Han er lige kommet hjem fra en weekend udenbys, har set, at han er kommet ind på Harvard, og det er det eneste, han tænker på.

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Der er begrænset antal kapitler at placere her, klik på knappen nedenfor for at fortsætte med at læse "Lysten til at blive ved aldrig"