Who He Really Is.

Who He Really Is.

Edward Deckard is a college freshman at Lewis and Clark College. When roommates are announced for his first year in college, he is surprised to find that his college roommate just so happens to be his best friend’s basically ex boyfriend. Growing up with Sammy, Edward always promised her he would destroy his mentality if they ever met. But will the promise be kept?

published on June 072 reads 2 readers 0 not completed

Chapter One.



I always told my best friend Samantha that I would absolutely destroy Jericho “Andy” Turpin if we ever met. He had broken her heart on several counts, and treated her horribly after seeming like a sweet and romantic guy towards her. She really thought they could’ve had something, but one day she came to school with no makeup, clear exhaustion, eyes reddened from tears, and a frown that lasted for months on end. Nobody knew exactly what happened, except that it involved Andy.
I’ve never actually met the guy.
According to Sammy, he was the most confusing, most sweetest but most meanest guy she’d ever been with.
She would constantly complain about how dry he texted. I mean, who likes that? Who likes bland responses? Not to mention, when they met, Andy Turpin wasn’t over his ex, suspiciousness at it’s finest. After the morning of Sam’s downfall, I hated him. I hated his guts. I hated every inch of that man. I hoped he would choke.
Now? Andy’s my roommate. My roommate for my freshman year of college. And I’m absolutelyfuckingescatic. I’ve waited for this moment my entire life, the moment of meeting Andy Turpin himself. The man of the hour, the guy who got fired from Wendy’s for smacking the frosty machine, the guy Sammy hated to love, and the guy I loved to hate. I picked up my phone to text S.

EDDIE: Driving over to the college admission office, going to meet the MOTH (Man Of The Hour) there.
SAMANTHA: God, don’t let his kindness fool you. Tell me if he’s nice to you.
EDDIE: I will. I’m scared out of my mind.
SAMANTHA: focus on what you’re doing. Text me later.
EDDIE: okay.

I put my phone down and looked over at my gorgeous girlfriend, Jessica. Had I not been paying attention to the way she was singing the song playing?
“You’ve been staring off into space for like, ten minutes,” Jess quietly said, her hands around the steering wheel, “are you ready to go or not?”
Jess and I had been together for five years, we met at middle school when I first moved to town and we started dating shortly after. I was actually making plans to propose after my first semester in college.
“Yeah, it’s okay. Go on,” I sweetly replied. Kissing her sweet, pale cheek.
As we drove, we sung some Weezer and rolled the windows down. My nerves were shot from anxiety. I silently thought to myself about Andy.
For a brief period in time, all we heard about was Andy Andy Andy. When Andy stopped talking to Sam for his ex, Wendy Weeks, she didn’t sleep for days and cried over him in class. Other times, when things were well, Sam’s eyes would gleam and she would hope the mutual feelings lasted.
It never did.
Andy always went back on his words, leaving Sam in the dark. She’d call me super late at night needing guidance or at least some reassurance. I hated it. I hated doing it. Sammy deserved better.
When we pulled in, there was another car on the opposite side. We watched Andy Turpin open the door, stepping out casually.
He got out and walked into the building. He was an average sized, skinny brunet. His hair looked like James Dean’s, but more shorter on the sides. His jawline was square, and he dressed in a red flannel, black t-shirt underneath with ripped black pants, finished off with shiny silver aviator sunglasses.
That’s when I looked down and saw that I was wearing the same plaid shirt, but no t-shirt was underneath.
Pathetically, I scoffed and got out, slamming the door. I blew Jess a kiss before following Andy. I knew for a fact that this was an absolute horrible time to meet him, wearing the same clothes just seemed creepy and flat out embarrassing.
I hid around the corner, casually staring. He sat up straight when he walked and talked, and flinched ever so slightly at small things. Overall, he seemed like a poser. That’s as simple as I can put it.
I wanted to go out there and just start going at it, but I couldn’t. My nerves were already shot. My anxiety was up high. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
When I stepped over, I stood next to him at the admissions table. Filling out necessary paperwork. I nodded at him, and he nodded back.
I wonder if he recognized me. After all, I was Samantha’s best friend.
Jess wouldn’t be back for another hour, so I walked outside and sat on the bench. I folded my arms, cleaning my glasses with my sleeve. That’s when I felt the door open behind me, and it was none other than Andy.
“So... Edward right?” He gave me a set of clenched teeth, a forced smile.
I put my glasses on and ran a hand through my hair, glaring. “Actually, it’s Eddie,” I replied, “and quite frankly, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth right now. I was tempting Jericho Andrew fuckingg Turpin. I made direct eye contact with him, he took a step back and smiled at me.
“I know you’re friends with Sam. She’s my friend too. Do you wanna go get lunch so we can, ya know, talk?” Andy put his hands in his pockets. My words didn’t phase him. He knew what Samantha told me, and he wasn’t going to let it get in the middle. He was pretending none of it happened. So I hesitated before agreeing, and now we’re in his stupid white car.
I said nothing as he turned the radio. I got out my phone and texted a picture of my feet on the floor to Sam.

SAMANTHA: That doesn’t look like Jessica’s car??!!!!
EDDIE: ABORT MISSION. I’m in the MOTH’s car.
SAMANTHA: YOURE KIDDING. Talk about me. I’ll send a selfie and see if he looks over your shoulder. ;)
SAMANTHA: “One image”
SAMANTHA: did he look?!?!
EDDIE: No. I got to go. We’re going somewhere to eat.
SAMANTHA: if things get weird, let me know.

I put my phone down and watched Andy turn the music up, it was a band I haven’t listened to since seventh grade. Blood On The fuckingg Dance Floor. I wondered how Sam dealt with this earbleeding garbage. I put my arm on the arm rest and looked out the window. We were driving out of the city limits, toward my hometown.
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