You know I can never stay away for long. I'm so excited about this one! Unfortunately, my work schedule is about to get pretty crazy, so updates won't be as fast as before. But they'll still be happening! Happy summer :)

XxX

APRIL

I already told myself that I wouldn't cry today. Because when I cry, my mom cries. And when my mom starts crying, she doesn't stop.

I kept my promise, too. The whole time that my mom, dad, and little sister, Alice were helping to move me in, I kept a smile on my face. A big one, too. I tied my long, red hair up in a bun and got to work alongside them and really enjoyed it. I enjoyed it, that is, until I started thinking about how soon they'd be leaving and driving 241.6 miles away back home to Moline.

I've definitely calculated.

But now, sitting in my room alone, I don't have anyone else to worry about but myself. Not even a roommate; I live in a single dorm. I'm not used to this whole being by myself thing. I have three sisters, and I'm the first one to leave for college. Libby, the oldest, goes to community college in the next town over and, because of my nephew, Liam, still lives at home. I'm used to being around three arguing girls, two chatty parents, and a baby. So being here in this room with just a bed, an empty desk, and undecorated walls, I don't feel quite like myself.

I place my hands on my knees and stare at the floor, feeling tears roll down my cheeks without bothering to wipe them away. I sniffle in and think about how badly I want to go home, even though just days ago I'd been unable to stop daydreaming about my new life here. I wanted it so bad; I'd been fantasizing about moving to DePaul and coming to Chicago ever since I got accepted last November. Over the summer, I read plenty of articles in Seventeen magazine about how hard moving away for college is, but I had brushed it all off. I never thought that I would feel this way.

But I definitely am. I just want to go home and be with my family. It's a Sunday, which means that Dad will get the grill out and make dinner for everyone out on the patio. If I were home, I'd probably have Liam on my lap while Alice and Kimmie argued over who got to sit where, with Libby fighting on the phone with Liam's dad. Everything and everyone at home is predictable, and I liked it that way.

Here, I don't know what comes next. I don't know what to expect, and I have no friends.

At home, I'm not exactly the picture of popularity either, but I did have a few people. They both stayed behind, Reed and Charles, and I'm sure with me gone they'll couple up. I always knew it was begging to happen, Charles has had a crush on Reed for forever that he'll have to stop denying sometime. I miss them, but not as much as I miss the entirety of everything familiar. Getting in the car and going to get ice cream at sunset, driving to the ravine and sitting on the edge to look at the stars, going to church with my family. I miss it all already.

I sigh and cover my face with my hands, elbows resting on my knees. I don't know what my life is going to look like here, or what it's even supposedto look like.

There's a floor meeting tonight at 8, but it's only 5 and I'm starving. I look at the student ID that's resting on my nightstand, my own picture smiling eagerly up at me, then shake my head. I don't want to go eat by myself. That's actually the last thing I want to do. So I will my hunger away and get up from the bed, thinking that distracting myself will make me forget about my hunger.

I make my bed, organize my supplies on my desk, and tack up my posters on the wall. I tack my first Taylor Swift one right above my headboard and my second one a little further down, hanging my white twinkle lights between them. After my little area is all set up, I stand back and look at what I've done and feel like it's a bit more like my space at home. It feels more like me.

I hang my clothes in my small closet and tuck what won't fit into the dresser against the far wall. As the final touch, I set my Bible out on my nightstand next to my alarm clock, which I set the time on after glancing at my phone. I notice that it's already 7 and since I've taken a moment to breathe, my hunger is back.

I hold my ID between my hands and take in a shaky breath. I'm not sure how to use this or where I even go to eat. I just know money - a lot of it - is loaded on here, and it's supposed to last me the rest of the quarter. Ten weeks. Then after November, it'll reload for winter quarter.

I don't want to go alone, but I have no other choice. I'm going to starve if I don't go out and do something about it, so I sling on my crossbody bag and take a deep breath, making sure that I have my keys with me. It'd be so embarrassing to get locked out on the first day.

Just as I'm locking my door, I hear a couple voices nearby talking animatedly. I glance over, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can see, and notice two girls coming out of the room that's attached to mine via the bathroom. They must be my suitemates. I wet my lips and open my mouth as I try to think of something to say, but nothing comes out. I direct my eyes back down to the lock and keep them there, willing the girls to walk by without acknowledging me since I already embarrassed myself in my head before I said a single word.

"Hey!" one of them says, and I fumble with my key and drop it.

I kneel down to the floor, looking up as I crouch down. The two girls have stepped away from their door to approach me, and are now standing above me with smiles on their faces.

"Hey, April!" the redhead says.

I screw up my face with confusion. "Uh… how did you know my name?" I ask.

She points to the circle cut out next to my door with my name printed on it.

"Oh," I say, blushing. I'm sure my face must be fire-engine red. This is mortifying. They probably think I'm so stupid.

"Are you our suitemate?" the brunette asks, glancing back at their door.

"Duh, she is," the redhead says. "Hi, I'm Addison. This is Amelia. We're your suitemates."

"Cool," I say, holding my ID card so tight in my hand that I'm sure it's about to slice into me.

"We were just about to head to the Student Center," Addison says. "I'm so hungry. Wanna come with us?

My stomach twists and turns into knots. I don't want to make a fool of myself, but I'm so excited that someone is actually asking me to do something. On the very first day. "I - oh, um, sure," I say, managing a smile.

"Awesome!" Addison says. "Come on, let's go."

I trail behind them on the way to the Student Center, peering up and around to take in my surroundings. Nothing looks familiar. I have a feeling that I'm going to get lost on this campus a lot, even though it's only about four blocks wide. I can't get the directions straight in my head, and I remind myself to bring the map that's in my planner with me for the first day of classes.

Addison and Amelia chatter away as we go through the revolving doors of the building, and I try and keep up with their conversation. It's easy to gather that they knew each other before moving here and must have requested to live together, because their rapport is much more comfortable than that of two people who've just met today. I find myself wishing that I had Reed, if only to just have someone to fall back on. We weren't as close as Addison and Amelia seem to be, but I definitely deemed her my best friend. Even though she wasn't the greatest. I doubt we'll stay in contact now that I've moved so far away and everything about her life will stay so much the same.

"What are you gonna eat, April?" Amelia asks once we get to the top of the stairs. So many options are laid out in front of me and I have no clue where to start. "I'm gonna get a sub."

"Let her talk," Addison says, elbowing her friend. "Do you need help?" she asks me. "I know it seems like a lot, like way too many options. But you just gotta know what ones are good and what ones aren't. Here, let me show you."

I come to the conclusion that Addison must be a sophomore. There's no way she knows as much as she does about the dining hall as a freshman, because she knows a lot. She tells me what restaurants are good choices and what ones aren't, and also what ones are good for hangovers and what ones have really fast service. She gives me the rundown of the whole place in less than five minutes, and I decide to get a salad.

A salad isn't what I really want - I'm hungrier than this. But it's easy, and I don't want to spend time in line around other people. I just want to sit down. I almost wish I hadn't come with them, because all they do is continue to talk to me. I'm worn out from it.

"So, what's your major?" Addison asks, picking up a fry and popping it into her mouth.

"Oh, vocal music," I say, meeting her eyes for a second before staring back down at my mediocre salad.

"For real?" Amelia cuts in. "You sing? Will you sing something?"

I open my mouth, then close it again after only a tiny peep comes out.

"Shut up, Amy," Addison says. "She's not gonna just sing right here."

"Why not?" Amelia says.

"Just shut up," Addison says. "That's really cool, April. I'm a Journalism major, and Amelia's undecided."

"I think I wanna be pre-med, like my brother," Amelia says. "But my mom wants me to wait a year and figure it out for sure. She's so annoying." She rolls her eyes and juts her thumb out towards Addison. "She and my brother used to date. But it was a whole big thing when-"

"She doesn't wanna hear about that," Addison says. "She doesn't care."

"No, I care," I say, stabbing a piece of lettuce.

Amelia leans forward. "Addison and my brother, Derek, were like the biggest power couple in high school. Derek is older than me, by the way. Like her. Everyone thought they were gonna get married…"

"Amy…"

"They did! We did!" She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, then my dumb fuck brother cheated on her with this little whore in my grade. She goes to some college out east and my stupid brother followed her there. My point is, I don't know, my mom must be smoking crack in thinking that I should 'be like my brother.'" She sighs. "Sorry. I tend to rant. He bothers me sometimes. Like, I love him, but I fucking hate him."

I chuckle a little bit, one side of my lips pulling up in a smile.

"After that lovely story," Addison says. "Do you have any siblings, April?" She laughs. "Or anyone who's cheated on you? Any drama?"

"Three sisters," I say, lacing my fingers together. "One older, two younger. Libby, Kimmie and Alice. Libby had a baby last year and that's kinda… the big family drama, I guess. She's only 20, not married. And my parents are religious, so they really didn't like it." I shrug. "But we love the baby, so it's not that bad. Except for that his dad is a real jerk."

"A real jerk," Amelia says, planting her fist on the table. "So no one's cheated on you? Broken your heart? Those are my favorite stories."

"You're sick and wrong," Addison says.

"So are you," Amelia retorts. "So, April?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I've never… uh, I've never really dated anyone."

"Oh," Addison says. "Why's that? Any reason?"

I shrug. I don't want to sound pathetic by saying that no one's ever wanted me, so I spit out my classic line. "Just haven't been interested in anyone," I say. "My school was really small. It was almost like incest, dating anyone."

"I feel that," Amelia says, pointing in my direction. "Your mind is gonna be blown here. I already met a guy who I wanna bone. His name's Owen, lives in U-Hall. And like… holy hell."

Addison raises her eyebrows at me. "Amy is a little boy-crazy," she says. "You get used to it."

Her words, said so inclusively, make me feel warm inside. Like they plan on keeping me a part of this friendship for more than just tonight.

I've never really been good at friends, so I definitely didn't think I'd be making any this soon. I was glad that I got a single room so I could have alone time and privacy, but I knew my mom and dad were worried that it would just isolate me further. Now, I can prove them wrong. I already made two good friends who live just across the bathroom.

When we get back to our dorm, Clifton-Fullerton, it's almost 8 o'clock and getting close to the time of our floor meeting. I pause as I get out my key to unlock my door, watching Addison dig in her bag for the key to theirs.

"So… uh, are you guys gonna head down to the floor meeting?" I ask.

"I'm not," Addison says. "I did all of that last year. They're not gonna tell me anything I don't already know. But Amy's going."

Amelia groans. "Unwillingly," she says.

"Oh, okay," I say.

"You going?" Amelia asks me.

"Yeah," I say. "I was gonna head down in a few minutes."

"Let's just go together," she suggests.

I agree, and we go into our separate rooms to decompress for a second and set our stuff down. I sit on my bed and smile to myself with my hands on my knees, swinging my feet happily. I hop up after only a second of resting and hang a few more decorations, including a sign with a K for Kepner on it that I put above my headboard. After that's perfectly centered, I lie down until I hear a repetitive knocking on my door, then I know it's time to head downstairs.

Amelia complains the whole way down about the fact that Addison is forcing her to go to the meeting. She doesn't think she should have to, seeing as her best friend knows all of this stuff already. But Addison said it would be good for her to show her face, and Amelia reluctantly agreed. If only to check out the guys, she said.

Our floor is meeting in the lobby, and it looks like everyone is mostly already there as the two of us walk out of the elevator. About fifteen or twenty people are sitting in the couches and chairs, and the people who can't fit are standing around, hovering. Some are mingling, some are just sticking off by themselves on their phones. I know that would be me if Amelia weren't here.

There's no place to sit, so we join the people standing. Amelia pops her hip to one side and surveys the lobby as I stand beside her, my arms crossed over my chest.

"I don't see anyone from my welcome tour," she says. "You see anyone you recognize?"

I glance around, my eyes not landing on anyone in particular. "No," I answer.

"Hmm," she says. "Oh, would you look at that. Hot guy at 2 o'clock."

I furrow my eyebrows. "This thing starts at 8," I mutter.

"No, idiot," she says. "Hot guy. My 2 o'clock."

I look up, still equally as confused. "Your 2 o'clock what?" I ask.

"Oh my god, you are hopeless," she says, then grabs onto my shoulders to turn them the way she wants. "Freaking hot guy. Right there. Do you see him, blind ass? In the red shirt. He's like, looking this way?"

Once she maneuvers me the right way, of course I see him. He is looking our way, one hand on his chin, laughing with a few other guys who must be his friends.

"Yeah, he's alright," I say, then look away. "I guess."

She scoffs. "You guess," she says. "Seriously? That might be the best looking man I've ever seen in my life. Now, I'm not trying to hit that, because I've got my eyes on a certain redhead in U-Hall if you'll recall… but still. Doesn't mean you shouldn't."

My eyes widen. "Oh, no," I say.

"Why not?" she asks, baffled.

"I… I don't go for guys like that," I say, directing my eyes back to the floor.

She nudges me with her elbow and I hear her sigh. "You don't go for guys at all, by the sound of it," she says. "What's wrong with him? Name one thing, and I'll let you off the hook."

I open my mouth, gaping for words. "He - I - he's… he's way too full of himself," I stammer.

She rolls her eyes. "You don't know that. I hear excuses."

"No," I say. "It's so obvious. He's all… cocky, and stuff. I can't stand that. I can tell from all the way over here, he's just insufferable."

Amelia laughs. "Just insufferable, okay," she says. "I can see you feel strongly about this, alright. I'll shut up, geez."

A few moments later, our RA, Miranda, comes down and starts the meeting. She tells us about dorm policies, a lot of which don't pertain to me because they have to deal with roommate agreements. I find myself really grateful that I'm in a single room. So much less drama to deal with, and I can just worry about myself. She tells us that we can get into sports games for free - recommending the girls' basketball team because they're better than the boys, even though they get less hype. She tells us how much it costs if you lose your ID or Ventra card; the latter is a blue farecard for the trains and buses in the city. I don't plan on losing either of mine, so I have nothing to worry about.

Lastly, we have to go around and say our names, our major, where we're from, and an interesting fact about ourselves. My stomach drops, and I have the unignorable urge to run away.

We start off across the room from me, so I have plenty of time to think. What the heck is an interesting fact about me? I can't think of anything that doesn't sound lame. I practice what I'm going to say in my head. Hi, I'm April. I'm a vocal music major, and I'm from Moline, Ohio. An interesting fact about me is…

Is… is… what?

I can sing. Yeah, they get that from the whole vocal music major thing. What else is interesting about me? I have no earthly idea. But my turn is coming up fast, and before I know it, I'm up.

"Uh, h-hi…" I stutter, trying my best to let my eyes roam around to everyone instead of centering them on the floor. "My name is April. Kepner. April Kepner. I'm, uh… I'm a vocal music major." There are murmurs of interest from around the room; it's not a major that's been mentioned yet. "And an interesting fact about me is…" I'm stuck. Everyone is staring at me. My face is so red, I know it must be, because it's burning up. "An interesting fact about me is that I have goats. At home. I have goats at home. I… I grew up on a farm."

I just spit it out. It was the only thing I could think of, even though it's not interesting at all. I feel like such an idiot. Everyone else had cool things, about the tropical places they went over the summer, what concerts they went to, all sorts of things like that. And all I could say was that I grew up on a freakin' farm and have goats.

"Hey, guys," I hear a voice say. I look up to see that the circle has moved to the boy who Amelia thinks is cute. He's smiling, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He is so, so arrogant. "I'm Jackson. Uh, let's see here. I'm pre-med. Pretty badass, I know. I know." He smiles again. "An interesting fact about me is that the building next to us is named after my great-grandfather."

I close my eyes and they practically roll into the back of my head. Of course he's a legacy kid, and the ultimate version of one, too. Sounds like his family practically helped build this place. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some relationship to Vincent St. DePaul himself - or at least, if he claimed to.

"No way," someone says.

"Yeah," he says, leaning back in the cushioned chair he's sitting in, body language open. "The Avery Academic center. That's all me, dude."

"Technically not you," I mutter, way too low for anyone to hear. I roll my eyes again, directed down at the floor. I just want to go back up to my room and go to bed. Classes start tomorrow, and I want to be prepared.

After the meeting is over, mostly everyone stays around to mingle and socialize, but not me. I get up from the place we'd found to sit and start heading towards the elevator, but Amelia grabs my wrist. "Where're you going?" she asks.

"Back up," I say. "I'm tired."

She contorts her face into a confused expression. "It's not even 9."

"I have an 8am," I say. It's not a lie or an excuse, it's true. I have a computer class tomorrow morning, which is a freshman requirement. I'm not exactly excited for it, but I know it'll be easy and it'll be good to get it out of the way.

"Oh, okay," she says, then punches my arm softly. "Nerd. Thanks for coming with me. Probably wouldn't have come if I was alone."

"No problem," I say, feeling my shoulders turn towards the direction I want to go.

"I'm gonna hang around, though," she says. "Maybe head over to U-Hall, we'll see. If Addie asks, just tell her."

"Okay," I agree, then head upstairs.

After I'm changed into my pajamas with my teeth and hair brushed, I sit on my bed and call my mom. She picks up before the first ring is even through, and we talk about my day. She's happy that I made a couple new friends, and glad that I went through with the floor meeting even though I had told them I didn't want to go. I didn't tell her how I made a fool out of myself, because all she'd do is tell me that it couldn't have been that bad. But it really was. I don't tell her about the annoying, pompous boy, either. I've never talked to her about boys, and I don't plan on starting now. If I talk to anyone about them, it's Libby. She has the most experience. But I don't feel like calling my sister tonight, I just want to go to bed.

After I hang up the phone, I open my planner and look at my schedule to distract myself from crying. On Mondays I have LSP 120, my computer class, at 8am. Intro to Music Theory at 11:20, which will be super easy, but it's a class I have to take for my major. On Tuesdays, I have WRD 103 - which stands for Writing, Rhetoric, and Discourse - at 9:40, Philosophy 100 at 1, and Algebra 202 at 2:40. That's 20 credit hours, 4 more than recommended, but I can handle it. I've always thrived off a heavy course load, and what else is college for besides learning? I'm almost excited for all the homework I'll have, even though I know that makes me sound a little crazy.

I lie down in bed and pull the covers up to my chin, tossing and turning to get comfortable on this unfamiliar, stiff mattress. I roll over and look out the window, where I can see a decent view of campus. I sigh and feel a lump rise in my throat as my eyes start to burn. I'm happy to be here, but at the same time I wish I weren't here at all. I want to be at home, in my cozy bed, listening to Kimmie's subtle music through the wall. For the first time since coming here, I let the feeling wash over me. I feel really, really alone.

The next morning, I wake up way before my alarm with a nervous stomach. I know I should eat something, that's usually the first thing I do, but I can't force myself. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, taking deep breaths to try and calm down, but it only works for a few seconds before the nerves come buzzing back.

I tell myself it won't be bad. I'll use my map and I won't get lost. I woke up early, so I'll have plenty of time to pick out my outfit and make my hair look okay. It's all going to be fine. I've done more than 12 first days of school before, this one's no different.

Except that it is. It very much is.

I take a shower and stand in front of my closet in a towel as I try to decide what to wear. It's going to be pretty hot, but last night Miranda told us how cold the classrooms can get, so I pick out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a billowy tank top and lay them out on my bed for when I'm ready.

Addison and Amelia aren't awake yet, that's obvious by the silence coming from the other side of the bathroom door leading into their room. I lock it and stand in front of the mirror in my underwear and cami, drying my hair and painstakingly curling it. I didn't do this much at home, because I didn't really have anyone to impress. But now, I have everyone to impress.

I swipe my mascara wand over my eyelashes and look at my face. I need something more, so I dig around in my sparse makeup bag and pull out an eyeliner pencil that's who-knows-how old, and hold it up to the light. It's dull and unsharpened, but I don't have a sharpener, so I'll just have to do my best. Libby once tried to teach me how to do more with makeup, but we'd both gotten frustrated and given up. Now, I wish I would've listened, because this stupid pencil isn't doing anything. The color won't even come out, no matter how hard I press, and if I press too hard, it hurts my eye.

"Stupid thing," I say, throwing it down at the sink where it clatters. Hot tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I see that I've messed up my mascara with my endeavors. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, wiping off what I did with a makeup wipe before doing it all over again. I'm just going to have to be settled with mascara. It's all I can freaking do, and I don't have time to mess up again.

I put my clothes and shoes on, then make sure everything is packed in my backpack. Once I'm sure that everything looks good, I fold my map of campus up into a tiny square to rest in my palm, then head out the door.

As I'm locking it up, I hear, "Good luck on your first day, girl," from a tired voice.

I look over and see Addison padding down the hallway from the lounge - a cup of coffee in her hands, hair a mess atop her head, bleary eyes. She gives me a weak smile, and I attempt to give her one back.

"Thanks," I say.

"Whatcha got first?"

"LSP," I say.

"Ugh," she says. "Good luck. Snore."

I laugh nervously and wave before I leave. When I'm standing on the sidewalk right outside my dorm, I glance at the map as inconspicuously as I can, seeing that the building I need to go to is the Avery Academic Center.

The building right next to us is named after my great-grandfather.

I look to my right and can't miss the sign. It's not far at all, and I feel a sense of relief wash over me. That wasn't too bad. I can do this. I got this.

LSP is quick and full of reading the entire syllabus out loud like we can't do it ourselves. Time passes slowly, and when it finally ends at 9:30, I'm so glad. My stomach growls for breakfast since I didn't eat anything, so I tell myself that I should go to the Student Center in my free time. It's no big deal. That's what it's there for, and I won't be able to concentrate in music theory if my stomach is grumbling the whole time.

I stumble over my words when I order, but it doesn't take long for me to be sitting down at a table by myself with a bagel. I put my headphones in and do some people watching, feeling more and more normal with each passing second as I see plenty of people sitting alone with headphones in. This must be a normal thing in college. Sometimes you have to do things alone. That's okay, I can do this. This is no big deal.

As I finish the first half of my bagel, someone catches my eye. He's sitting at a table with a few other guys, but he's the only one whose face I can see. He has short brown hair, a tiny bit of attractive stubble on his chin, and a puppy-dog look in his eyes when he's not smiling. My heart does a funny thing - kind of twists and starts pumping harder, and my face flushes with heat. I watch him talk to his friends, laughing and leaning forward as he engages actively in their conversation, and I don't plan on looking away until his eyes rove over and lock with mine.

Then I jolt my gaze away and stare down at my plate, my heart pounding harder than it ever has.

I want to look over again, but I know I can't. I have to play it cool now, pretend that I was just letting my eyes rest even though I definitely wasn't. I don't know who that guy is, obviously. I barely know who anyone is on this campus. But I think I want to find out. I'm not sure how, it'll probably never happen, but I can't stop thinking about his face on the way to music theory.

I sit down in the front of the classroom near the middle. I'm the only one in here so far, so I take this time to get organized - I pull out my planner and jot a few things down, bobbing my foot up and down as I go. I'm so deep into my organizing-turned-journaling that I barely hear the classroom door open and close, but I definitely notice when someone sits down in the desk right beside me.

I look up and resist the urge to raise my lip in disgust.

"Hey, what's up," Jackson Avery says, looking comically large while sitting in the desk. It's the kind where the table is attached to the chair, and he can't get comfortable. He tries resting an ankle on his knee, but there's not enough room, so he just scoots his butt to the edge of the chair with his legs straight out in front of him.

"The professor's gonna trip on you," I say under my breath, directing my eyes back to my planner.

He makes a sound that's a mixture between a laugh and a scoff. "I'm not gonna stay like this," he says. "And what, are you not gonna say hi?"

I side-eye him. "Hi."

"You live in Clifton, right?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Thought so. Fourth floor, right? You were at the floor meeting."

"Yes."

"You have goats," he says, a smile growing on his lips.

I put my pencil down. It's obvious I'm not going to get any more writing done. "Yeah, that was me. Why are you sitting here?"

I don't know what's making me so blunt, but I don't regret it. His presence just irks me. He's way too confident for his own good. Amelia was right, he is pretty. But he knows it, and that's the problem.

"Thought I recognized you," he says. "That hair's kinda hard to miss." I touch one of the curled ends and give him a look with my eyebrows lowered. "What? It's a compliment," he says.

I purse my lips and take my pencil out again, digging in my backpack for the notebook I reserved for this class as more people file in.

"So do you really have goats?" he asks. "You should name one after me."

"Yes, and no," I say. "I'm not gonna name a goat after you. I don't know you."

"Fair enough," he says, clicking his pen in and out, in and out.

"Can you stop?" I snap, looking over at him so fast that my hair flies.

He raises his eyebrows. "Geez," he mutters, but stops. He sits up in his desk and leans his elbows forward. "Funny that we're in this class together. I figure it'll be pretty easy, right? Well, definitely easy for you, because of your major and everything."

"How do you know my major?" I ask defensively.

"Uh… you told all of us last night," he says.

Oh. Right. I was wrong in snipping at him, but I don't let him know that.

"I don't know, I took this shit because I need an easy A. I need to four-point my first quarter so my mom will get off my ass about it."

I don't say anything. I clasp my hands together on my desk and watch the professor come in. She's a tall woman with dark hair, wearing gray dress pants and a bright fuchsia top with subtle jewelry. She smiles at me when we make eye contact, and I feel happy with myself because of it. Jackson chuckles beside me, but I ignore him.

She stands at the podium and organizes some papers, setting a few from the pile on the top of the piano. As the rest of the class shows up, she looks out into the small crowd of about 20 people and nods to herself. I already feel good about her.

Once it's 11:20 exactly, she starts talking. "Good morning, class. My name is Professor Torres, and this is Music Theory 100. Is everyone in the right place?" She glances around. "I don't see anyone rushing to the door, so I'm taking that as a yes. Welcome."

She takes attendance, and I look around to match the faces with names. "Jackson Avery," she calls.

"Sup," Jackson says, raising a peace sign into the air.

Though he's not looking, I glare at him and raise my upper lip. Like I said, just insufferable.

She keeps going through the alphabet. Andrew Deluca, Stephanie Edwards, Alexandra Grey, all in order. Everyone looks shy and moderate, but I'm feeling a confidence boost. This is what I'm good at. Music is what I know.

"Alex Karev."

"Present," a voice says, laughing. I swivel in my chair to find the source of it, all the way in the back of the classroom. My eyes widen and my stomach twists when I see who it is - the boy from the Student Center. In my music theory class.

I pivot back around and grip the sides of my desk, willing the blush away from my face as I hear a silence wash over the room. Someone must have missed their name or they aren't here at all, but that's not what I'm concentrated on. His name is Alex Karev, which is a great, strong name, and he's in my class. I have a reason to be around him for an hour and thirty minutes twice a week. This is the best thing that ever could have happened to me - well, within reason.

I'm in college now. I'm not going to have the same unfortunate luck I had with boys in high school. Alex will notice me, I make that promise to myself.

"Okay… guess we don't have an April Kepner…" Professor Torres mutters, scratching something on the roster.

My brain scrambles back to earth. "Wait, wait, that's me!" I say, my arm shooting straight up in the air. "I'm April Kepner. Here."

Professor Torres gives me a look. "Stay with us, April," she says with a smile.

Jackson elbows me, but I ignore him. I don't even look his way. I don't want him thinking we're friends, because we're not.

"Okay," Professor Torres says enthusiastically. "We're gonna start the first day off with some music trivia. Classical music. How good do you guys think you really are?"

My body buzzes with excitement. I know a lot about classical music because of both my vocal and piano training. It's been a huge part of my life since I was five years old, and I can't wait to show it off.

"Who wrote a piece called 'Skittle Alley Trio'?" she asks, scanning the crowd.

I know right away, but I don't want to seem too eager. A few people laugh and play on the fact that the word Skittle was used, but no one knows the answer. I raise my hand, and she calls on me.

"Mozart," I say. "It's for piano, clarinet, and viola. I played it at a recital once."

Professor Torres raises her eyebrows and looks impressed, which makes me feel good. "What part did you play?" she asks.

"Piano," I answer. "I play piano. And I sing."

"Very nice," she says. "Okay, next question. Who could listen to a piece of music once, then write it down from memory without any mistakes?"

This is so easy. She's asking the most obvious questions, but no one seems to know. They throw out random guesses that include T-Pain and Carrie Underwood, and I roll my eyes, raising my hand again.

"Mozart again," I say. "And fun fact, his friends and family actually called him Wolfie. You know, for Wolfgang."

"You got it, April," Professor Torres says. "Are you guys just gonna let her do all the work? Anyone else even gonna try?"

A few people laugh, and she gives up on her trivia game, saying that she'll give us more later in the quarter after we've had some time to learn.

"A big part of this class is group work," she says. "Some of you are probably happy about that, others not, but either way - it's happening. I'm going to split you into groups of three today, and over the course of the next ten weeks, that same group is the one you'll be working on for our weekly projects. This group will last all quarter, so you'll be getting to know your classmates pretty well. I'd recommend exchanging phone numbers, emails, anything to keep in contact. It'll be important as our course load gets heavier."

My heart drops. There's almost nothing I hate more in this world than group work, especially with a bunch of people I don't know. In high school, I could deal with it. Everyone had known each other since we were in pre-k. But I don't know these people, and they don't know how I work. More importantly, I don't know how they work.

I'm nervous who I'll be paired up with. I don't want to be with deadbeats, but I also know that compared to me, technically everyone in this class is a deadbeat.

"Group 3: April Kepner, Jackson Avery, Alex Karev." Professor Torres looks out at us and gestures to a spot in the corner of the desks. "Gather right here. Exchange information."

Great. I have no idea what to think. I'm happy I'm in a group with Alex, but of course Jackson has to be in it, too. He's going to ruin everything, I already know that.

"Looks like we're in a group together," he says, grinning at me. "Ready, Wolfie?"

At first I'm puzzled at the name, but then I remember the trivia question I just answered. "Don't call me that," I say. "Come on. We're supposed to gather over here."

Jackson and I sit down in two desks in the corner, and Alex takes his time in getting to us. "Group 3?" he asks, slouching into a desk.

"Yep!" I say enthusiastically. "I'm April. And you're Alex, right?"

He gives me a look I can't interpret. "Uh… yeah," he says. "What's up. Listen, I don't know anything about this crap, so I hope you do."

"I do," I assure him. "Don't worry. I can help you."

He laughs and looks at Jackson knowingly. "I'm past the point of help, babe, but thanks."

Babe. Wait, seriously? Did he just call me that that casually? I have no idea what my heart is doing, but it feels like it might throb out of my chest. He is so cute. His skin is tanned from the summer and his light brown eyes sparkle when he smiles. I've never felt these kinds of things for someone else before, but Libby's told me about them. I think I have the biggest crush on Alex.

As I try to hide the fact that my hands are shaking, we all exchange numbers. "I'll start a group text or something," I say. "We can just text whenever we have questions. Or something. Or anything."

"Sounds good," Jackson says, and I can feel him watching me though I have no idea why.

"I never answer my texts, but whatever you say, Beethoven," Alex says. I giggle. I don't really know why. I can't help it.

I'm still buzzing when the class lets out. Alex makes himself sparse as soon as 12:50 hits, but Jackson sticks around while I pack everything into my backpack, though I wish he wouldn't.

"So you have a thing for Alex, huh?" he says, watching me hitch my bag up onto my shoulders.

"What?" I say. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, okay," he says sarcastically. "Because you weren't totally obvious about it."

"Stop."

"He called you the wrong nickname and you just went with it," Jackson says. "Beethoven had nothing to do with anything."

"It was funny," I say. "So I laughed."

"Because you like him," Jackson says.

"Shut up," I say. "It's none of your business."

"It kind of is," he counters back, raising his voice because I'm moving further away. "I don't wanna have to sit around and watch this for ten weeks!"

"Mind your own business!" I shout over my shoulder, rolling my eyes.

This is going to be a long quarter.