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PAIGE

I'm really lucky to have Jo in my life, I mean, what were the odds of finding a roommate who runs a daycare? In just over a year, she's become my best friend, my family, the best aunt for Owen.

After Owen was born, I found her. I was looking for someone to share a place with, and I needed to get away from my parents' toxic beliefs and supervision. Yes, I got pregnant at eighteen, and yes, I was about to abort if it weren't for them, because even Owen's father wanted me to. He's two years older than me, I met him by chance at a party and... it happened. My parents never yelled at me so much, especially when I mentioned abortion, and they dragged me to church to give me a way too explicit talk that traumatized me. I didn't abort, I had Owen, and I had to finish high school studying from home because it was a shame for my family. Shame on me for having them as parents, for them wanting to take him away when I had him after they made me have him and isolated me from everything.

"Come on, come on," Jo encourages me. "You're going to be late, and they'll revoke your scholarship."

"It doesn't work like that; I can still..."

"No, you can't," she insists.

I sigh, and Owen lifts his head from my chest. He's lucky to have her trust. I managed to get into university, albeit two years late, and I'll have much less time for him; I had to find another job just for the afternoons. It's a stressful life, but I have no other choice.

I get up from the couch with him in my arms, and Jo takes him off me. Owen likes her, but still cries when she moves away. I understand; I don't have much time for him, and that bothers me too.

I reach out and stroke his black, straight hair. I lean in, kiss his head, and that's when he calms down a bit.

"See you later, baby," I say goodbye.

Jo smiles at me and encourages me to leave the apartment. I grab the keys to my beat-up car and hurry downstairs. It took me a year to be able to take the university entrance exams, and I still can't believe I got a full scholarship. Being pregnant and having Owen didn't make me a bad student; I've never been one, and the effort has paid off. I've always wanted to study criminology, and now that I can, I need to maintain the scholarship for the rest of my years in college.

I drive for almost forty minutes to the university, and I didn't attend the freshman orientation because Owen got sick, so it's the first time I see the campus, except online. It's impressive, although I suppose it seems that way to me because I've never been to one before. I've printed out a map to find my faculty easily, and after turning onto two streets, the four-story red brick building appears before my eyes. There's a small parking lot with not many cars, and I spend five minutes parked, checking my schedule for the day and making sure I have everything in my backpack. I don't want to look stupid wandering around like a lost freshman, even though that's what I am. When I'm sure I'm in the right place, I get out of the car and adjust my backpack on my shoulder. I sigh and fold my papers tightly in my hand. It's daunting to be here, and it intimidates me that everyone walks so confidently while I'm so terrified.

I'm tense, feeling the metal of my bra bothering me, how tight my jeans are suffocating me, and how suddenly heavy my backpack feels. I breathe slowly and walk towards the entrance stairs. I climb the steps slowly and check my papers again to make sure I remember my classroom number. The only relief once inside the building is seeing more lost freshmen; luckily, I make it to my class, the first two. I have twenty free minutes until my third and penultimate hour, and I take the opportunity to look around the faculty.

It's the first day of classes, and there's a lot of hustle and bustle, lots of lost people, and lots of party flyers. A group of very cheerful girls pass me by, smiling at me and handing me a flyer announcing a party at a sorority.

"We'll see you there!" they say.

I crumple the flyer in my hands, not even bothering to consider going. Behind them come another group of guys who look like athletes. They walk in a group, looking like a pack, and announce a party at their fraternity; they pass me, and one of the guys at the end, who seems the least like the rest of the group, looks at me.

"You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?" he asks with charm, and I shake my head.

"No? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

I would remember seeing such a handsome guy before in my life; I'm a mother, but I'm twenty years old, and I like guys. My love life ended with Owen. I've never had a boyfriend, just sporadic things, and the first one was his father; after that, being with a guy my age is very difficult when they find out I have a two-year-old son, so I stick to whatever happens.

He smiles at me, and he seems quite pleasant. He has a whitish smile, and his muscular arm stretches towards me with an open hand. I accept it because it seems like a funny gesture to greet me. The bicep is defined under the short-sleeved blue shirt, and the firmness of the handshake confirms my theory that he's an athlete, whether from the gym or whatever, but he exercises.

"In that case, I'm Samuel," he introduces himself, and when I let go of his hand, he runs his hand through his short, military-style, brown hair.

"Paige."

I see his gaze go beyond me, then he smiles and looks back at me.

"Well, Paige, I hope to see you at the party," he says.

I want to tell him to wait because there's no way I can attend. But instead, I purse my lips and nod slowly.

"Sure," I mumble, folding the flyer given to me by one of his friends.

He points at me and smiles as he starts walking backward.

"Don't disappoint me."

What does he mean "don't disappoint"? I don't want to give him a lecture about getting too familiar too quickly. That's not how it works. Not anymore.

By the time he turns around and walks to catch up with his friends, I have to go back to my faculty for my third class. I have to stop when I advance three steps along the campus path; where do I think I'm going? I check the campus map I have folded in my jacket pocket and try to find myself, and when I think I'm succeeding, someone snatches the printout from my hands.

<< What the f...? >>

Even my thoughts freeze when I see him. He still has black hair, cropped on the sides and longer in the front with strands falling over his forehead. He still has that expression of anger and bad boy vibe that attracted me so much back then, and... Now he looks even more adult, even more intimidating, and I think it's because I have a clear view, I see that he towers over me, and even though he's not as muscular as a rugby player, if he wanted to, he could break someone's face; something I know he's done.

"What are you doing here?" he bellows.

I raise my eyebrows and snatch the map from his hands. What a great way to talk to the mother of his child. I just hope that when he's with Owen, he teaches him good manners; I don't want my son to grow up with that disrespect and arrogance he had.

"Studying," I reply and tuck the paper into the pocket of my jacket.

The last time I saw him was shortly after Owen was born; my parents allowed him into the house. One thing I'll give him credit for is that he's attentive to Owen, he cares about him, and he always returns him to me happy and in perfect condition. The only contact we have is through messages, not even calls. He picks up Owen from daycare every other weekend and returns him on Monday mornings. Jo lets me know. We don't see each other. I don't know anything about his life, and I just hope he's not out there stealing virginities and impregnating one-night stands.

Now more tattoos peek out from under the neck of his black sweatshirt, some kind of snake head, and who knows what else he has.

"Here? Since when?"

I sigh and start walking back to my faculty. That arrogance when he speaks and the way he believes he has the power to order things is what made me spread my legs for him. I don't even know how I liked that, I guess because that whole "bad boy" thing is attractive when you're full of hormones.

"Since today."

"And Owen?" he asks.

The fact that he asks about him is the only reason I don't mind him following me.

"At daycare, like every Monday at this time."

Considering we have a child together, this conversation is the most uncomfortable and strange. If you add to that the fact that we don't know much about each other and haven't seen each other much...

"Do you study here?" I ask him.

I think I know the answer; he's carrying a black backpack over his shoulder, and this is a campus, I don't think he's just passing through.

"Yes," he responds curtly.

Twenty-two years of pure believing he's the baddest. That makes me sigh. I know he's like that, and now I hate it. He didn't even seem or doesn't seem like the type of guy who studies at university. When I first saw him, he was selling marijuana and who knows what else, and he was from a very poorly rated high school. Does he still sell that stuff? Who knows, the important thing is that Owen's monthly payment arrives on the first of each month.

"Well, great," I sigh.

I spot the faculty again and quicken my pace.

"Be careful with that jerk you were talking to, he's an asshole."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the incredible advice."

"I'm just warning you, do whatever you want with your life."

"I'm glad you know you can't tell me what to do," I retort and cross in front of him to take the path to the entrance stairs. "It was a pleasure seeing you after two years for this bullshit conversation. Don't bother trying again next time."

I leave him behind and push through the door with fury. Throughout the rest of my day, I can't get the encounter out of my head. I leave my last class still somewhat angry. I don't want to have this tyrannical relationship with the father of my child, Owen doesn't deserve it. I think we could have a relationship like adults who share something so important, a normal relationship with distances and maturity. I think about it as I walk to my car, and suddenly I see him again. He has an amazing car, much better than mine, and he's leaning on it with his hands on the ass of a blonde who's about to undress him.

Seriously? What's the need? He looks vulgar, and before I realize it, he's looking at me. I feel the disgust on my face, and I can't help it, but as long as he doesn't do that when he's with Owen, everything is fine; it's his life, and I'm not going to meddle in what doesn't concern me.

Then he lets her go, and she looks at me because he keeps looking at me. I see her viper-like expression giving me a murderous gesture, and if looks could kill, she would have killed me thirty-three times. "Great, now his girlfriend hates me."

I clutch my backpack to my shoulders and open my car, throwing the backpack onto the passenger seat and sinking behind the wheel. I reverse, and I have to pass by his side to leave, when I do, I feel like a monkey in the zoo with both of them looking at me, and I think she's dying to hit the windows until they break.

I feel weird the whole way back home. I have two hours before I start work; fortunately, I'm a shop assistant in a clothing store that's in the shopping center a couple of streets from the apartment, and it couldn't be a better deal because Jo's daycare is also there. So, once I'm showered and changed, I spend my free time before work visiting Owen. As soon as I step through the door of the daycare, he jumps from a low plastic chair where he was drawing with his friends and runs to me. I crouch down, drop the bag on the floor, and when I catch him, he bursts into laughter.

"Hi, baby," I sing. "How was your day?"

"Good good," he repeats with a beautiful smile, and my heart warms.

"Good good, or very good?"

He nods and wraps his little arms around my neck, leaning against my shoulder. Jo works together with her older sister, and they let me stay for a while in their office to spend time with him before starting work. It's the first day of the routine. I sit with him on my lap, and for the half-hour I have before leaving, I spend it playing with him and making him laugh as best I can.

I do that all week, until Friday.