Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by Terrible Love by Birdy.

As usual, the metal handle on the door shrieked like nails on a chalkboard once it was pushed down; a sound so harsh that nearly everyone around flinched once it fell upon their ears. Almost all the passersby were used to the sound of door opening and closing, as it was a sound they heard plenty of times before, but no matter how many times they had heard it in passing, it was never something they fully got used to. It always took them by surprise and brought them out of their busy element, forced them to look up, grit their teeth and curse at the person that had made it elicit such a noise. It was something they could gladly go the rest of their lives without witnessing ever again. Almost all the buildings were old. Some of them were being redone, some of them were being left alone. But all of them had flaws. None of them as bad as the annoying squeaky door, though.

With one unapologetic, gentle yet forceful nudge, brisk, wintry air flooded the building and collided with the heat emanating from within the four walls. Snowflakes moderately speckled down from the sky, collecting on the pre-existing white blanket covering almost the entire campus, and the sun just barely peeked out from behind a sparse gray cloud that hung in the sky. It was less than ideal for a typical morning. It was the kind of weather that made her, and at least a few dozen other students want to do nothing but stay in the comfort of their heated residences.

She licked her lips as she stepped down onto the crunchy, snow-covered pavement and folded her arms tightly across her chest. Purely out of habit, she geared her head towards the ground and stared at the glimmering snow with every step she took, silently cursing at herself for not choosing to dress better. It was a usual January morning. The wind was blowing her hair in all directions, her lips were chapped as soon as she stepped out into the cold and her teeth were even chattering. She was expecting this. She knew it was going to be cold; she had been in New Jersey long enough to predict the weather sometimes better than the sketchy meteorologists on the channel twelve news. What she didn't know was what possessed her to put on a thin pair of black yoga pants and a gray hooded sweatshirt with nothing underneath.

As the wind continued to whip her hair, which was still damp from the brief shower she took about an hour earlier, all over her head, she plunged her hands deep in the pockets of her sweatshirt and slowly lifted her head because though she knew she was walking in the right direction, she wanted to ensure that she wasn't in anybody's way when she walked. She sighed and watched her breath leave a trail of white smoke in the air.

Approaching the light brown bricked building, she pulled the slipping strap of her backpack up on her shoulder and lightly jogged up the small flight of steps. Just as she reached in to grab the handle, the heavy wooden door flung open and through it rushed a small group of other students, gleefully chatting about the class they were clearly just released from. Careful not to get in their way, she politely stood off to the side and let them walk out before she walked in. She eyed them when they passed and her eyes widened when she noticed the girl that walked past her.

With long, blonde hair that fell past her waist and perfectly winged eyeliner, the girl uttered a hearty, fake laugh at the guy she was walking beside and adjusted the flimsy black cardigan she wore over an orange spaghetti-strapped camisole. Sure, the blonde's jeans were tight and sported holes along the legs, but the things that made her eyes widen the way they did were the silver, sparkly, open-toed sandals that she wore.

She stared at her while she walked the entire way down the steps. She didn't mean to, but she did. And she shook her head at the stupidity that masked her own. And I thought I deserved to catch a cold, she thought to herself. Still shaking her head, she easily slipped through the door that was now closing and dragged her own knock-off UGG boots across the black carpet that laid out a dry pathway down the entire hallway.

"104A, 104A, 104A," she mouthed to herself and under her breath as her eyes scanned the hallway.

She had many classes in this building before, but never one in 104A, which had to be an auditorium. Every room that had a letter "A" succeeding it was an auditorium, she knew that much. Though she was far from it, she couldn't help but feel as if she was a freshman again. Like a lost freshman, too. Like the freshman that was aimlessly wandering her way through the halls, hoping that some ruthless senior didn't notice that she was lost and inevitably offer a kind helping hand. It was nice of the seniors to point her in the right direction the way they did when she was a freshman, but she was independent. And she distinctly remembered the conversation she had with Dale Winston, quarterback of the championship football team, three years ago. She was looking at her schedule, he asked if she needed help. She said no, he went about his business. It wasn't much to remember, but she did solely because by refusing help from him, she had successfully made herself late to her third class ever, freshman year. That was always a problem she had, though. She didn't quite know how to accept help from anyone.

"104A." She nodded to herself once she finally found her way to her classroom and meandered inside.

She eyed the sea of chairs, most of which were already filled up and hooked her thumbs underneath the straps of her backpack just to seem like she was doing something besides standing and looking for a place to sit. There weren't many places to sit, even in an auditorium. Though prestigious, it was a small university and there wasn't really a need for an abundant amount of chairs in the small lecture hall. She shrugged her shoulders just slightly and carelessly sat in a chair near the back wall.

Usually, she'd aim to sit in the front. It was just the kind of student she was. And it wasn't like there weren't any free spots in the front, because there were tons. But for some reason this morning, she just didn't care. She plopped her backpack down on the flight of steps beside the chair she sat in and crossed her legs, resting her elbow on the writing tray in front of her. I'll sit in the front on Wednesday, she reasoned. And I'll go to bed an hour earlier so I'm not resentfully dragging my ass to class, too.

Pulling her out of her thoughts, the air beside her shifted and of course, she turned her head to see what—or who, was the matter. An easy grin spread across her face once she saw who it was, and she moved her backpack out of the way.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it," she mumbled.

"I didn't even brush my teeth," Stephanie hurriedly sat down in the empty chair next to her, and stuffed a piece of gum into her mouth. "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"You were sleeping so peacefully."

"Yeah right Jo," she chomped, yanking the ponytail holder off her wrist and forcibly tying her thick black curls up into a messy bun. "You really should've woken me up."

Jo combed her fingers through her own messy, soggy brunette waves and sighed. "Last time I woke you up, you told me to leave you the hell alone and never touch you again."

"I wasn't serious!" Stephanie sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "You really thought you could leave, knowing we have the same class, without waking me up? You have to be the worst roommate."

"I thought you were intentionally skipping," Jo shrugged her shoulders.

"On the first day of spring classes?"

"Alright, alright. I'll wake you up next time. Sorry," Jo sighed. She leaned over towards her backpack and unzipped the front compartment. She filed through it for a moment, grabbed her pencil, then unzipped the bigger part and pulled out her notebook. "How'd you do last semester?" she asked, merely trying to make conversation with her best friend solely because she was bored and there were still three minutes before class was slated to begin.

"Four As and a B," Stephanie mindlessly fumbled with the bent edge of her syllabus, noticeably avoiding eye contact with her. She was wondering how long it would be before Jo brought up grades. They just got back on campus last night from the winter break and somehow the topic hadn't already come up. She knew it was only a matter of time, though. Though she and Jo had been roommates since freshman year and best friends for just as long, she still found it hard to admit to her when she got less than desirable grades. She was the opposite of Jo, both physically and internally. "3.67. How about you?" she retorted, more out of obligation than interest.

"I did okay," Jo shrugged again. She always found herself downplaying her success, because she knew it bothered Stephanie. She would never mention it, but Jo was far from stupid. She could pick up on the way her friend visibly and audibly grew uncomfortable when grades were discussed. Truth be told, she did more than "okay". Grades were printed and the Dean's List came out two days ago, and she was sitting on a comfortable 4.0 grade point average. She wouldn't boast it though. Not around Stephanie. "Where are you headed after this again? I don't have class again until one…wanna go grab lunch?"

"You wanna go down to the Wilcox Room to eat or what?"

"We can go to Wilcox if you want, since it's closer," Jo nodded. "Are you gonna ask Heather and Leah too?"

"No," Stephanie shook her head. "If I ask Heather and Leah then I'm gonna have to ask Shane too and no offense, but Shane's been way on my nerves lately. It's just gonna be me and you."

Jo laughed, "Why would I take offense to that? I can't stand Shane. He's such a know-it-all."

"I was just saying that—"

Interrupting Stephanie mid-sentence, a slight tap on a microphone echoed throughout the entire auditorium and commanded everyone's attention to the front. A short, stout, elderly man with wispy white hair and a thick pair of glasses on cleared his throat and adjusted the podium, slowly scooting his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He wore a light blue and white button-down shirt and a casual pair of jeans, attire that surprised everyone in the classroom. Usually, the professors here dressed to the nines in business suits that were various shades of blacks, blues and grays. This professor surely was extraordinary donning his off-the-cuff attire and rundown sneakers. Secretly, Jo liked it though. His outfit made her smile. She thought it made him seem carefree, which was something not often seen by Princeton professors.

"Alright, it's 9:00 on the dot and I would like to get started," his meek voice was phlegmy and though he was speaking into the microphone, he barely projected. His stiff, liver-spotted hands moved slowly as he tapped the space bar on the computer and lit up the silver screen that hung behind him. "I'm Dr. Leeds and welcome to Molecular Histology." He cleared his throat and looked around for a moment before tapping the space bar on his computer again and adjusting his glasses for the second time. "As you all should know or at least be familiar with, histology is the study of the microscopic anatomy of the tissues of animals. This semester, you all will be…"

Naturally, Jo flipped open the cover of her notebook and pressed the lead through her mechanical pencil, prepared to begin taking notes. For the second time of the day, her mind wandered back to when she was a freshman. She remembered how embarrassed she was when she came to class her first day, totally unprepared. She didn't expect work on her first day of classes. She expected her professors to just go over their syllabuses let them leave. Boy, she was wrong. She was a freshman, though. And she never made that mistake again. From that moment on, she expected this. After all, it was the Ivy League. These days, she was prepared for lectures to start on the first day and last the entire hour and twenty minutes she was in the class for.

They never wasted a moment.

"Jo, what are you doing?" Stephanie asked, mouthful of cantaloupe. She stabbed her fork down into the white porcelain bowl in front of her and picked up another piece of the orange fruit. "You're supposed to be eeeeating."

"I am eating," Jo mumbled, quickly picking up a French fry and stuffing it into her mouth. She chewed it slowly so that she could maintain her concentration on the task at hand. Her hand busily flew across the sheet of notebook paper as she silently read the page of the book that was opened and sitting on the table in the middle of all their food. Stephanie sighed hard and audibly and Jo looked up. "See?" She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out to reveal the chewed-up French fry.

Stephanie turned her nose up and shook her head, forking more fruit into her mouth. "I meant put away the book. It's the first day of classes, letting your homework sit won't kill you. It isnt' due until Wednesday."

"Why let it sit when I can just get it done?" She picked up another fry, dipped it in the cup of ranch dressing she got for her chicken tenders and ate it. "Besides, don't even act like you aren't going to ask me to copy mine when you don't feel like doing yours tomorrow night."

"You act like you ever let me copy." Steph pushed her bowl away and scooted Jo's plate of fries toward her. "When's the last time you ever let me copy your homework?"

Jo looked up from her homework briefly and put her pencil down, reaching across the table and lightly slapping a golden fry from her friend's hand. "Last semester, before finals week. I let you copy my A&P worksheet," she said. Stephanie rolled her eyes and ate one single fry before Jo reached across the table again and slapped her hand. "Paws off my food."

"I didn't slap your hand when you ate one of my croutons," Stephanie spat back.

"I'm not on a strict diet that I'll lose my scholarship over if I don't make weight," Jo quipped.

Steph looked away, knowing that Jo was right. Sometimes, she hated being in college on a cheerleading scholarship. Sometimes she just wanted to eat French fries and big slice of pizza without having to worry about gaining the weight. Sometimes she just wanted to skip "weigh-in" for the week and not worry about which one of her coaches was going to tell her to lose an unreasonable amount of weight to stay on the squad. Sometimes, she wanted to be just like Jo. She wanted to be here on an academic scholarship instead of an athletic one. She wanted to eat whatever she wanted and not gain anything from it the way Jo seemed to. She just wanted to be like her best friend.

"Did Leeds say to turn this in to him on Wednesday by hand or e-mail it to him?" Jo asked, finally closing her book.

Stephanie nibbled on a piece of lettuce and sighed. "He said turn it into his TA on Wednesday. In class."

"He has a TA? Since when?"

"Since the last ten minutes of class when he said that he had one."

"Must've dozed off during that part," Jo giggled. She seriously didn't recall Dr. Leeds ever mentioning that he had a teaching assistant. Usually when professors had TAs, they were introduced on the first day of class. Maybe today was different. "Was his TA there today?"

"No, he said he'll be there on Wednesday. Seriously, did you pay attention at all when the man talked?"

"Apparently not. Does the TA have a name?"

"Karen…Alexandra or Alexandra Karen…or something like that, I dunno."

"Ooh, a girl," Jo licked a bead of ranch dressing from the corner of her mouth and exhaled, scooting her cup of Diet Dr. Pepper over so she could take a sip. She sucked on the straw for a few seconds before swallowing the mouthful of fizzy soda and sat back, prodding the ice cubes in the bottom of her glass with her straw out of boredom. All of a sudden, Steph gasped and sat completely upright in their booth, craning her neck. "What? What happened?" Jo sat up too. "What?"

"Look, look! Look! Oh god, look!" Steph beamed, subtly pointing her index finger toward the serving stations. "Oh god…he's gorgeous."

"Who?" Jo turned all the way around in her seat just so she could see. "Who's gorgeous?"

"Him!" Steph exclaimed in a loud whisper.

Jo traced her friend's bony finger with her eyes and finally saw who she was pointing to. He was standing at the grilling station, scrabbling around with a pair of black plastic tongs to grab a hamburger bun. He wore baggy jeans that had a neat crease ironed down the leg and a deep crimson colored sweater. His light brown hair was neatly combed, his muscles almost burst through his shirt and when he smiled, his clean white teeth aligned perfectly. He blinked, batted his long eyelashes and smiled at the lady behind the serving station with haunting blue eyes. He was aesthetically perfect, the essence of everything desirable. Star point guard on the basketball team, weight lifter. So charming that he could make even the most shrew women tame. He had an aura about him that was likable, tons of friends and so well known.

Jo licked her lips as her stomach did a backflip, and she sat back down in her seat. Faintly, she pushed her plate of fries away from her and looked away from her glass of soda. She wasn't hungry anymore.

"God… Mike McDonald…he's SO fine," Stephanie sighed dreamily and shook her head as she finally looked away from the man just as he nestled a hamburger patty between the buns. "And I can't believe he's single!"

"I can," Jo muttered.

"You don't think he's sexy?!"

"He's alright," Jo shrugged. "I wouldn't date him."

Stephanie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She didn't get Jo at all sometimes. Almost every girl on campus was attracted to Mike McDonald. Even some of the professors were! Princeton was a small school and an even smaller campus. Everyone knew everyone. Mike was everything a man ought to be. He was smart, he made the Dean's List every semester. He was athletic, here on a basketball scholarship. He was sweet, too. He volunteered to help out with the Special Olympics every summer. How wasn't Jo attracted to him? He had everything!

"Sometimes I don't get you," Steph began. "You think Shane, who's a first class douchebag, is attractive but you wouldn't date Michael McDonald? You'd date SHANE ROSS, but not Michael McDonald."

"I NEVER said I'd date Shane, I just said he was nice looking. I wouldn't date Shane," Jo accidentally snapped. Steph didn't understand her logic, which was clear. But at the same time, she didn't fault her. Nobody understood how un-fascinated she was with Mike McDonald. Nobody probably ever would, either. "But I definitely wouldn't date Mike McDonald," she sighed. "I just don't get the hype around him…he's not that special…" she glanced back over in the direction of Mike again and felt goosebumps raise up on her arms. "He's kind of a tool."

"You don't even know him!" Steph countered.

"And you do?!" Jo folded her arms across her chest and bit at her bottom lip. "Whatever Steph," she mumbled and ran her fingers through her hair, preparing to change the subject. "I'm gonna go grab some ice cream. You want anything while I'm up?"

"No," Steph shook her head.

Jo nodded once to avoid saying anything further and began scooting out of the booth. She looked up and noticed someone approaching the very booth she sat in though, which made her immediately cease to even attempt getting up. She sat completely still and closed her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush bright red.

"Oh no," she whispered to Steph. She opened her eyes and noticed her friend's concerned look. "Just….act natural, act casual, whatever," she whispered again.

"What?"

Jo just expressively rolled her eyes around and pretended to be busy and preoccupied by hurrying up and opening her Molecular Histology book again. Maybe if he sees I'm busy, he won't stay long. She glanced up quickly and saw him blissfully walking, with a bounce in his step, over to them. He lifted his hand up and shot a crooked smile her way, greeting her. Jo's shoulders slouched, but she lifted her hand up anyway and lazily waved at him. Stephanie looked back at who Jo was waving too and pursed her lips together to conceal her laughter.

"Hey Jo!" he said cheerfully, gripping a white porcelain plate full of meatloaf in his hands. He stood at the end of their table and looked on. "You look nice today."

"Hey Isaac," Jo said back, wearing a clearly uncomfortable smile. "Thank you." How do I look nice? I'm literally wearing yoga pants and a hoodie. And my hair air-dried from my shower this morning. And I'm not wearing any makeup. Why are you lying to me?

"You're welcome," the blond, baby-faced boy politely nodded his head and gave Jo an eager smile. "So…are you workin' on homework?"

"Mmm-hmm," Jo nodded.

"Do you guys mind if I sit here? Or…"

"We were just getting ready to l—"

"Oh yeah, of course," Stephanie graciously scooted over and moved her plates and bowls over too. "You can sit right here Isaac." Jo shot Stephanie a look and Steph just raised her eyebrows.

"Thanks!" Isaac enthusiastically sat down beside Stephanie and looked across the table at Jo. She was beautiful. Her brunette hair rested in gentle, casual, tousled waves around her chest and she had the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. He could get lost in those eyes. Her lips were perfect and heart-shaped and God, even in a sweatshirt she looked like she stepped off a runway. She was the woman of his dreams. Someday, she'd be his. He promised himself that. And when that day came, he would cherish her forever and never let her go. Ever. "Is that Molecular Histology?"

"Yep," Jo nodded her head.

"Are you taking Leeds?" he asked. Jo nodded again. "Good luck. I hear he's a really tough grader. He's got a TA this semester too and I heard last semester he just passed all his papers off to his TA to grade. It's not the same TA, but my friend Andrew had his TA last semester and he said she graded really easy. His TA this semester is a guy though. Last semester it was a girl."

"I thought you said his TA's a girl?" Jo asked Steph.

"I didn't really pay attention, it could be a guy," Steph shrugged.

"And you say I don't pay attention."

A/N: So I took a pretty long hiatus with writing multichapters, but I really missed it and now I'm back! It's my first time attempting a story in third person, so I hope you guys like it.

Also, this story is a little bit different as each chapter will be titled after a song. If you are ever interested in what song the chapter is titled after, just ask.