Rescue My Drowning Heart

“All the good girls go to hell. ‘Cause even God herself has enemies. And once the water starts to rise and heaven’s out of sight, she’ll want the devil on her team.”—Billie Eilish.

Chapter Theme Song: “all the good girls go to hell” by Billie Eilish.

HARMONY

The day dawns crisp and bright, as the sun drips its yellow yolk through the open window, covering the room with its soft orange hue.

I open bleary eyes to regard the clock sitting on the wooden table next to me.

7:05 a.m.

I have class at eight and I’d hate to be late for my first lecture, so although my eyes are heavy and I feel like I’ve been running a thousand miles per hour, I have to gather the strength to get up.

I knew attending that orientation-party thingy last night was a bad idea. Feeling lethargic on your first day isn’t something you’d want to start the term with.

I’d been able to overcome the countless amount of peer pressure during high school, so I am not sure why I allowed my roommate to influence me to attend that social gathering last night.

It was not an orientation—well, not the type that I am used to—and the only thing I attained from it all was a weird boy gawking at me as if I had a booger in my nose.

Stripping oneself in front of a bunch of screaming girls has nothing to do with the curriculum of Homewood. Furthermore, and I don’t see how it’d assist me with getting my degree. This is one weird college.

A hand sprawling over the top bed tells me that April is still asleep.

I had high hopes of getting the top section of the bunk bed, but after returning last night to see a giant spider hovering above the headboard, I decided that a little squeak is far more optimal than insects.

I reach for my duffel bag on the floor beside me and begin digging through for something to wear to class. I settle on a beige skirt and a white long-sleeved top.

I get up from my bed, grimacing at the cold tiles as I mince my way to the bathroom. The space is small and consists of a shower, a toilet, a face basin, and a white wooden cabinet.

I place my chosen outfit onto a small table in the corner before quickly stripping out of my clothes.

I brush my teeth then get under the shower, switching the pipe on and sighing when the cool water begins to race down my body.

Early morning showers are the best. It makes for a reenergized spirit and offers a short moment of mediation before embarking on a long day. I will need energy today more than anything.

College is not high school, and I know it’s going to take some serious effort for me to get accustomed to the change in curriculum and environment.

It’s especially difficult for someone like me whose skin crawls at the sight of new faces. Changes are not something I am fond of.

After a long moment of self-reflection, I finally turn the pipe off and climb out of the shower. I dry off then get dressed before exiting the bathroom with my worn clothes in hand.

April is finally up and making her bed, and I smile as I put away the clothes I had taken off.

“Good morning.”

She swings her head around and her eyes rake over my attire. I shift in discomfort as she ogles me from head to toe.

“Good morning. Are you wearing that to class?”

My eyebrows furrow in puzzlement as I assess my clothes. “Uhm...yeah. Why?”

Certainly there is nothing wrong with my choice of attire. I dress rather conservatively; my legs and cleavage are always covered. I just feel it is always best to leave things to people’s imagination.

“Nothing...” She purses her lips. “Nothing at all.”

“Do I look weird?”

“No, no. You just look...different...from the people here.”

I tilt my head in confusion, and she smiles. “It’s not something bad. I just think you’re modest, is all.”

I smile. “Thank you. Uhm, should I wait for you?”

She shakes her head, climbing down from her bed and bracing her waists. “No, we don’t have the same classes anyway and I don’t want you to be tardy, so we can catch up later.”

Thank God. She doesn’t seem like she will be ready anytime soon and I am running late.

“Sure?” I ask, in a bid to be courteous, but I am secretly hoping her answer remains the same.

“Yeah, I am sure. See you later.”

“Okay, bye.” I smile as I grab my knapsack from the floor, waving awkwardly before turning away and heading out.

***

The classes so far are torturously boring. I am not sure what I expected from college but it’s really not that great.

People paint such a perfect picture of it—perhaps that’s why I had such high expectations. Or maybe I am the one who refuses to let my hair down a little.

I am an English major, and I have a deep love for literature, music, and art. I wish I was able to pursue all of them at once, but I know I have to choose one for now.

My mom thinks that you don’t necessarily need a degree in art or music. She believes that those talents aren’t learned but something that comes naturally.

I am sitting in English class, diligently copying the notes that Mr. Jones is jotting on the board. I hear the door to the theater open and half of the class turn their heads in the direction.

My eyes unintentionally widen as soon as they see Blaze Xander.

He’s in this class?

I almost get whiplash as I focus ahead quickly, my writing scribbly from anxiety as I recall the countless amount of warnings the girls gave me last night.

Stay away from him.

Don’t let him near you.

He’s heartless.

You will regret it.

“Hello.”

I look up to see him pulling out a chair from the large table next to me, and it creaks against the floor loudly, causing the lecturer to glance around in sheer annoyance.

Blaze doesn’t seem to care about the professor’s rebuking gaze as he plops down next to me with a toothy smile. “So nice to see you here.”

His appealing scent from last night dominates the air-conditioned room and he’s even more handsome in the daytime.

Today he’s wearing a green long-sleeved shirt that hugs his build and black, fitted jeans. A small silver necklace hangs around his neck and both ears are adorned with small hoop earrings.

His dark hair is faded at the sides with thick black curls on top, and his lips are so red that I am convinced he applies lip gloss.

I am not sure what to say to his greeting and so I refocus on my notebook to continue taking my notes.

He frowns. “A hi would be nice.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek silently, and he grabs his book from his bag as he speaks again. “How old are you?”

Really?

I look at him. I want to ask why he posed that question, but I figure it is best if I don’t speak. He will eventually realize that this conversation is one-sided and stop talking. Hopefully.

“You look, like, sixteen,” he continues. “Or fifteen the least.”

I look a lot younger than my age; it’s something I greatly detest.

When you look petite in size people take it as an invitation to try to walk all over you. It happened a few times in high school and I am not about to let the incidents repeat themselves in college.

“I am eighteen,” I clarify.

Did I just respond?

Wow, Harmony, the one time you should be quiet you decide to speak. How ironic.

He grins widely then pretends to look alarmed. His blue orbs dance with amusement. “Woah, and she speaks.”

His dimples have resurfaced, and my cheeks turn pink for some weird reason. I avert my eyes to my notebook again, gripping my pen harder. He makes me feel really weird.

“Your voice is sexy,” he comments.

My body stiffens as a heat spreads over my face. No one has ever used that word to describe me before. Sexy is just an unbefitting adjective for someone like me. Short, tiny, quiet, reserved—but sexy? It’s odd.

I look up at him and he is now focusing on his notebook as he opens it.

I catch a brilliantly drawn animation on a page, and as he’s about to turn it, I grip his hand quickly and impulsively.

He looks at me with wide eyes and I draw back, embarrassed that a mere drawing pulled me from my shell.

When it comes to my creative interests, my brain tends to operate and make decisions without my permission. I annoy myself sometimes with how sudden and awkward my actions can be.

The corner of Blaze’s lips quirks up in a smile. “You wanna see?”

I nod a little and he pushes the book across to me.

I gaze at the artwork in fascination. It is of the Japanese anime character Naruto. I can tell, but the thing is half of his face is smiling and the other half looks...sad?

Did he draw this? It is so beautifully creative. Each line is formed to perfection, with no trace of indecision or lack of skill, and his color saturation is clean and well defined.

Wouldn’t expect this talent from someone with his form of social status and appearance.

“Is this yours?” I ask, and he nods, twirling his pen on his fingers skillfully.

“Yeah, you like it?”

I smile a little. Like? I love it. I stare at the drawing, getting lost in the feelings it evokes.

The image looks happy yet undeniably melancholic as if it serves to portray an emotional battle within oneself. It is deep. I am not sure why, but I like it a whole lot.

He is remarkably talented. Just like me. Maybe we could be friends?

“Stay away from him”

“Don’t let him near you”

Or maybe not.

I close the book and slide it across to him, biting my lip as drop my gaze back to my notebook.

He smiles. “Tell you what,” he begins, and I look at him. “Come to my room later and I’ll teach you how to draw that. We could work on some art pieces together too.”

His room?

He sees that my eyes immediately narrow, and he chuckles. “It’s not what you think. Look, April’s words must have scared you off last night, but I am not that bad.”

I find it odd that out of all the places on campus he chose his room as the most suitable location.

I blink at him silently, and he sighs. Strangely, his eyes don’t reflect how troubled he is despite his exhalation. They have an estranged look in them, a vacant glint that I can’t quite explain.

He places his palms on the back of his head, leaning back comfortably. “I guess the girls ruined my image.”

It’s not fair for someone to dictate to you whether or not you should interact with someone without you getting a chance to know them for yourself. I know that, but I just don’t think it is right to be in a guy’s dorm.

My mom would not approve of it and my conscience won’t allow me to follow through with it even though I am not in her presence. God is watching me.

“It’s not because of April,” I justify. “I just don’t think that it is a good idea to be in a guy’s room...alone.”

Finally, his orbs display some form of emotion as a hint of amazement flashed across his irises. He nods, smiling composedly. “Okay, noted.”

I purse my lips and return my eyes to the board as I continue writing, and he stays silent after that.

I side-eye him every ten seconds, and he’s either scribbling graffiti on the smooth, spotless desk, fiddling with the ring on his finger, or humming something beneath his breath—anything other than taking \ notes.

His page has been blank this whole time, while I am onto my fifth page of notes. Everyone is different though. Maybe he learns by listening.

Class finally ends and students stand up from their seats as I stuff my notebook into my bag.

“I will see you around, green eyes.” Blaze smirks as he grabs his bag and jogs out of the class.

He doesn’t seem disappointed that I rejected his request; he appears nonchalant and unfazed. Maybe he has someone else he could draw with?

Judging by how the first years were going crazy for him last night I guess he has several other options. I’m sure the tiny redhead would pipe up at the opportunity.

I zip my rucksack up while Mr. Jones looks up at me from his podium. “Uhm, excuse me, miss…?”

“Skye,” I acknowledge. “Harmony Skye.”

He smiles and gestures me over with his hand. “Come here for a minute.”

He adjusts the waist of his roomy trousers while I fix my bag onto my shoulders. Standing up, I walk down to where he stands while adjusting the straps of my rucksack.

He scratches his nose and glances in the direction of the doorway; probably checking to see if the class is clear.

“I saw you sitting beside Blaze Xander today,” he starts, and I pull my sleeves down as an anxious habit.

Am I in trouble for just sitting beside Blaze? This isn’t kindergarten.

“Uhm, okay...,” I mutter when he doesn’t say anything else for a second.

He laughs, showcasing wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. He’s a middle-aged man based on observation, with thick black hair lined with streaks of white.

“Don’t look so frightened, Skye. I just think you should stay away from boys like him.”

Another warning. I am now confused. What’s so bad about him? He seemed nice earlier. He even respected my reason for not agreeing to his proposal. Why are they painting this picture that I cannot see?

“May I ask why?” I query, and he sighs.

“He doesn’t have good intentions. Just be careful of him. I know he’s handsome and charming but that’s his weapon. You’re a first-year so you may not know.”

I am not one to judge, but they have known him way longer than I have, so taking their advice would be the smartest decision.

I nod. “Oh, okay...”

He smiles and gestures to the door, and I turn around and walk away.

BLAZE

“April!” I mewl dramatically, throwing my arms around her neck from behind as she stands in line to collect her food. “The canteen is out of burgers.”

She rolls her eyes and wriggles away from my embrace. “You and your burgers. Why don’t you just become a burger and eat yourself?”

“I’ve got girls to do that for me.” I smile, then turn my attention to the lady behind the counter who has been serving our lunches for two years now.

She looks about thirty and her hair is always hidden with a black hairnet. The large apron hides her mature figure, but I can tell she has a remarkable one beneath the white fabric.

“Good morning, Pat.” I rest my elbows onto the counter, raising my eyebrows while staring into her face.

Her cheeks become noticeably rosy, but she pretends to be annoyed, rolling her eyes as she stirs the pot of mac and cheese. I do this every lunch period and she never drops the I.

It’s all right though; I can see through it all.

“I like your apron. Looks nice on you,” I add, smiling at her obvious discomfort.

Tia shakes her head in amusement. “Leave the lady alone. What on earth is wrong with you, Xander?”

“He’s the devil’s son,” Yuna adds.

Pat continues to focus on her task at hand and I tap my fingers against the table while keeping my gaze on her. She keeps her head hung to avoid my eyes.

“I’ll come back to check up on you tomorrow, all right?”

She flushes at this, and I titter quietly as I whirl around, leaning against the counter as James slides between me and April, throwing his arm around her.

“I like your skirt, April. It looks nice on you.”

James is obsessed with recycling my pickup lines. I clearly just used that one on Pat. I ogle him and feign pity while my cousin sucks her teeth, shrugging his arm away.

“Get your hand off me, James.”

“Hey, where’s Harmony?” Yuna questions, and I immediately begin stalking the noisy cafeteria.

The girl interests me. Mainly because she appears way too innocent. The world is a balanced ying-yang, a mixture of both good and evil.

Humans have a combination of both aspects inside them—except me, who has only one side of the ball—therefore there is no way a person can be completely innocent or “good.”

Life has been fucking boring for me these past few months, and this new girl has this aura that my demons are dying to play with.

I am determined to break that shell of hers; it’ll be fun for me, and the fact that I cannot feel an ounce of empathy will make this a lot more enticing.

“Yeah, where’s your friend?” I ask, and April spins to me, crossing her arms against her chest. That’s her lecture stance, but her rebukes normally flow through one ear and come out through the other.

“Blaze, I already warned you, stay away from Harmony. You know that it won’t be good if you hang around her.”

I push a hand through my hair, and it lands back into my eyes stubbornly. “Look, I just want to enlighten her. Show her what happens when she walks around Homewood looking like the Virgin Mary.”

James laughs. “But she is the Virgin Mary, judging by how conservative she dresses.”

I chuckle, and April shakes her head, retrieving her tray from Pat with a soft “thanks.” Her eyes land on me and I wink subtly. She looks away and moves on to serve the next order while April frowns at me.

“You two—you and James—are just two heartless and detestable creatures. Don’t let me see you around Harmony, Blaze. She is not your type, and I can assure you that you’re certainly not hers.”

“Nonsense. I am everybody’s type.” I bite back a giant smirk and she rolls her eyes as she walks to her usual table at the back of the room.

Yuna and Tia are next in line to collect their lunches, and my eyes locate a familiar petite figure entering the lunchroom.

Harmony.

She glances around skeptically as if searching for somewhere to sit, and I notice a wrapped sandwich and small boxed milk in her hand. I had no idea people our age still drank from those small juice boxes.

I fight off a smile and gesture to move toward her when Yuna grips my arm. “Leave her alone.”

I titter. “Relax, focus on your lunch.” I release my bicep, and she narrows her eyes at my disobedience as I assertively stroll toward Harmony.

They all know that I am one stubborn son of a bitch. When someone tries to get me to do what they say, I usually respond with a ‘Yes’ ‘Oh’ ‘All right’ then do whatever the fuck I want to do anyway.

I don’t take instruction well.

I can’t understand why they won’t just leave me alone; I mean no harm—some of the time.

She sees me coming and turns away, walking out of the cafeteria quickly. I chuckle at this, plodding behind her as I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Hi, Harmony.”

She halts her strides at the sound of my voice, then slowly turns to face me. We are now standing out into the quiet hallway as she stares at me questioningly.

Her emerald eyes reveal a tinge of fear, something I noticed last night. Is she not used to boys?

She finally speaks, her voice silvery and soft. “Do you need anything?”

Yeah. You.

Her tone is unnecessarily polite. I am not her professor, so why must she talk so...formally? She does have a sexy voice though.

I shrug. “You can eat with us.”

She shakes her head, rejecting me for the second time today. “I prefer eating alone.”

“Okay...” I nod, strolling up to her slowly. “What else do you do alone?” I stop fairly close to her, and she subtly steps back, creating some distance.

She squeezes the small box in her hand and my eyes drop to the anxious action. I am not sure what it is about me that intimidates people so much. It is starting to bother me...or not.

“Do you also sleep alone?”

Her forehead puckers in bewilderment as she vaguely tilts her head to the side. A sign of innocence and oblivion. Perfect.

I titter. “I meant, do you have a boyfriend?”

She looks taken aback, but answers, “No.”

“Lovely.” I smile, gazing directly into her forest marbles. She shifts in discomfort, and I point to the open milk carton in her hand.

“May I taste that?”

She looks at the square box then back to me, blinking in disbelief. She looks awestruck that I would ask something like that—but I am crazier than most people and I have good dental hygiene, so it’s all right.

I raise a stubborn brow in question, and she swallows before nodding absentmindedly.

I reach for the box from her small hand, my fingers grazing her soft ones in the process. That was not intentional.

I keep my eyes on hers as I close my lips around the straw, sucking up portions of the liquid into my mouth.

She watches me nervously, and if I am seeing correctly, she is blushing.

That was easy.

I hand it back to her and she quietly stares at the straw, seeming deep in thought.

“You just kissed me,” I say, and her gaze snaps up to mine in alarm.

“H-huh?”

I try not to laugh at the look of horror on her face as I point to the box. “We just shared an indirect kiss; you drank from the straw, and I did too. So, we practically kissed, didn’t we?”

Her cheeks turn crimson and I smile at the success. Soon she will be wrapped around my fingers, or my fingers will be buried in her...whichever comes first.

Blushing is proof that a person is feeling you, isn’t it? Well, that’s what I’ve heard. I am not necessarily knowledgeable about the topic of feelings and emotions.

Deciding to stop here for the day, my lips lift in a simper. “Thanks for the drink. I liked it. I’ll see you around, green eyes.”

I turn away and head back to the cafeteria, leaving her standing utterly frozen.