Pieces of Me Read Free

direction whatsoever, that is sort of a necessity when moving far away from home.
              The class sizes aren't that much different than the ones at my high school and I thought I'd be much more comfortable in this sort of environment versus a large school where there are hundreds of students in each class and your professor never learns your name. Yet I still crave anonymity hence choosing to attend college a thousand miles away where no one has ever heard of me.
              The tour through campus is short and sweet but the South Carolina humidity is already causing my thick, brown hair to frizz up. I twist it back into a high messy bun as Holden leads us to the dorm cafeteria for lunch. I could probably skip this part of the tour since I won't be living on campus but I'm hungry and I don't really want to go back to my apartment. By the time I get there and grab something to eat, I probably won't want to come back. But I have a meeting with my adviser this afternoon which is something that I can't miss if I want to make sure I get into the classes I want. One day of eating cafeteria food probably won't kill me—of course those might be famous last words.
              The cafeteria is full with other groups of incoming freshman. They are all talking animatedly, filling the room with an overwhelmingly loud buzz. I almost turn around and leave the room but then I spot a table in the corner that's unoccupied and make a beeline over to it. It's even by a window so I can pretend to be captivated by the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. Everything is so vibrantly green and lush in contrast to the plains of the Midwest. 
              “He's hot, right?” A tall willowy blonde interrupts my thoughts as she sits down beside me. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She has the body of a ballerina and moves with the grace of a dancer. I look at her and feign confusion though I think I know exactly who she's referring to. Holden stands out amongst the fresh-faced freshman boys. She smiles and introduces herself, “I'm Olivia.”
              “Aria,” I offer with a forced smile.
              “Sooooo,” she says with a pointed look. “What do you think?”
              “About what?”
              “About our schmexy tour guide!”
              “Oh, I—um, I don't know,” I stammer nervously. I'm a little out of practice at this whole 'being social' thing.
“You have a cute accent.  You aren't from around here are you?” she asks randomly.
              The question takes me off guard. I didn't think I had an accent, not a cute one anyway. Cute accents are British or Australian or even Southern belle, but not Kansas. I mean, what do you call a Kansas accent anyway? Midwestern? Hillbilly?                           
              “Is it that obvious?” I ask, disappointed because I don't want to stand out here. I just want to blend into the background like the color gray in a room full of rainbows. I used to be a rainbow but now I'm more like a rain cloud, a mass of gloom floating aimlessly through this thing called life.
              Before she can answer Holden sits down beside me.               “Hello again,” he says and then with a smirk he adds, “Funny bumping into you here.”
              I cringe at the memory, but he just chuckles, clearly amused by his little pun which only earns him a glare. He smirks at my narrowed eyes like he's facing a kitten that believes she is a lion and he finds it adorable. Stupid ass. 
              “So I was thinking maybe we could try this whole thing again,” he says as he holds out his hand. “I'm Holden Whitmore.” He stares at me expectantly. “Don't leave me hangin'