By the end of summer, I feel like a different person. My weight is only three pounds under a healthy size, and most days, I don't even feel fat. The panic attacks stopped by the middle of July, a sure sign that my medication has finally fallen to the right amounts. Even my therapist has given me the mark of approval, claiming that I am in a great place for my recovery. Sure, it isn't the you're healed forever! I was hoping for, but it's a close second.

The only thing I can't seem to change is my parents' admiration for Wesley Fuller. He completely flaked after my panic attack, not that I was disappointed or surprised. For two months, Wesley disappeared, never once showing up on my doorstep. But then, beginning of August, he was back, ready to make amends and head off to college together.

"There it is," Wes says, leaning out his window to point at the hill behind Missoula. "Do you see it, Addie?"

"I see it," I mumble.

Wes has been babbling the entire duration of our three hour car ride, and nobody seems to mind but me. His parents drove behind us with their truck, carrying all of Wes's crap and some of mine. Why Wes couldn't ride with them, I don't know. Unfortunately, I'm too polite to ask.

Wes leans back inside the car and rolls up his window. The rush of air finally disappears, and I move to fix my hair, only to remember it's gone now. As a celebration of my recovery, I decided to do something I've always wanted to do: get a pixie cut. I hated it at first, sure that it made me look like a boy, but now I love it. And I love it even more knowing Wes hates it.

"Now, which hall are you in again?" asks Dad. He glances back at the two of us in his rear view mirror.

"Duniway," says Wes. "It's right next to Miller, so I'll be close if Addie needs anything."

"Which I won't," I say, trying to cover up my annoyance with a smile. "I'm not twelve."

"Still, it's good to know someone's there, honey," says Mom.

Dad takes the exit off the highway and turns toward the University of Montana. Missoula is a beautiful town with a decent population but a small-town feel. There are thrift shops and hiking areas and an exciting downtown area. As soon as it was time to pick out colleges, I knew Missoula was the perfect place to study. If only Wes hadn't had the same idea.

"Who should we move in first?" asks Wes. He looks expectantly at me, but when I only raise my eyebrow, he turns to Mom and Dad. "Duniway is closer, so maybe we should do mine first."

"We don't have to help each other move," I say shortly. "If we split up, things will go faster."

"No, I think Wes has a point," says Dad, and I know he's only agreeing because Dad thinks men ought to have the final say. "We'll all help with Wes's stuff, and then, we'll do yours. Waiting a few minutes won't kill you."

The thing is, I am positive it would. I've already been trapped in the car with Wes for three hours—no need to drag on this unfortunate encounter any longer. Months ago, after the breakup with Wes and the fight for my life, I decided UMT would be a fresh start. I wouldn't waste time hanging out with Wes and trying to please my parents. No, I would be innovative and spontaneous, a free woman.

When Dad pulls into the campus parking lot, I'm the first out of the car. Before anyone else can get out, I start jogging toward the Miller building. I've only been to the University of Montana once, during my junior year of high school, but I still remember my way around. Directions have always come easily to me, and not for the first time, I'm grateful they do.

Dad calls after me, but nobody follows as I slow to a walk. As much as I want to look over my shoulder to see if they're glaring, I know better than to risk it. Instead, I hurry into Miller and jog up the stairs. My room is on the third floor, right in the middle of the left hallway. I curiously glance around the hall, which smells like stagnant air and floral perfume. The walls are a shade of off white and the carpet looks like it's from the eighties.

I find door 318 and gently knock, even though it's open halfway. A soft breeze blows from within the room, and I can hear the light whir of an electric fan. Good. I hadn't thought to bring one of those, and apparently, there's no air conditioning in Missoula.

"Hello?" a voice calls. I hear the girl wading through the center room before I see her. She has thick black hair that hangs in a short bob and a bit too much makeup for my taste. Her eyes are cat green and almond-shaped.

"Hi," I say, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of the moment. "I'm Addie, your new roommate. Or one of them, anyway."

"Oh awesome," says the girl. "I'm Rebecca. We talked for a little bit on the school's website, right?"

"Yeah, I think so," I say, as if I can't remember. Rebecca is the one who constantly talked about partying and dating, two things that don't particularly interest me. Elizabeth, our other roommate, seems more my style: introverted, polite, slightly uninteresting.

"Well, c'mon in," she says, taking a grand step backward, revealing the cramped living area of our dorm. A few cardboard boxes sit in the center of the room, leading to one of the three doorways. The first, presumably Rebecca's, stands open, showing a black and white and red room with feminine decorations.

"Are your parents here?" asks Rebecca. She cranes her neck toward the hallway, but upon seeing it empty, closes the door.

"Yeah, they're helping my friend move in," I say bitterly.

Rebecca giggles. "A friend you don't like much, I'm guessing?"

I blush slightly and scratch my neck. "Well, I guess I should've said ex-boyfriend."

"Ah, I see," says Rebecca. Then she scrunches her nose, "Your parents are moving in your ex-boyfriend?"

"Unfortunately," I say, my voice dropping low. It's strange how easy it is to talk with a complete stranger, but with Rebecca, it is. She stares at me with nonjudgemental eyes, something I haven't seen in months.

"Well, that's lame," says Rebecca. She takes a step toward her room, then looks back to see if I'm following. "My parents aren't here. They couldn't get off work, or something. But it's okay, my brother and his friend are helping with my stuff."

"Oh nice," I say.

"Yeah, it's actually really great," says Rebecca with an impish grin. "They're doing all the hard work, and I'm just kicking back, organizing my desk area. Plus, Mike's friend is totally bang-worthy."

I cringe at the word bang. It's been a while since anyone has used the term bang-worthy, and I was kind of hoping I'd left terminology like that in high school.

A sudden knock comes at the door. Rebecca jumps, but then, a mischievous grin spreads over her lips.

"Coming," she calls, but then she stands at the door with no sign of opening it. She gives me a quick wink before inspecting her manicure.

"Jesus, take your time, woman," snaps the boy, kicking his shoe against the door.

"Calm down," says Rebecca with a giggle. She glances back at me to roll her eyes before swinging open the door.

A short boy with dark hair that matches Rebecca's steps into the living room, carrying a mini-fridge. His eyes barely flicker in my direction before he weaves into Rebecca's bedroom.

"Leave the door open," says the boy over his shoulder.

Once he disappears into her bedroom, Rebecca turns toward me with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, ignore my total jerk of a brother," she says. Then, raising her voice slightly, she adds, "Addie, that was Mike. Mike, you asshole, this is my new roommate. If you weren't so rude, you'd come say hello."

"And if you weren't so lazy, you'd move your own damn boxes," Mike says as he reappears in the living room with an arrogant grin.

"Hi Addie," he says, his voice high and sarcastic. "I'm the hotter, smarter Taylor sibling."

I shake his hand, if only because I don't know what else to do. There's a moment of awkwardness between the three of us, but luckily, the hallway door swings wide again, revealing Mike's friend. He carries two boxes, and when they shift slightly, I see a familiar face staring back at me. My mouth turns to dried clay—in fact my entire body does.

Lex stands before me, looking even more attractive than I remembered. His eyes are large and light brown, beautiful next to his dark skin tone. His lips are slightly upturned, like he can't help but smile all the time. Without meaning to, I glance at the lean muscles along his arms. He's been working out, I think.

"Oh, and this is Lex," says Rebecca, bobbing forward. "Lex, this is my new roomie, Addie."

At my name, Lex finally seems to recognize me. The vacant, albeit content, look in his eyes disappear, replaced by bewilderment. His gaze flickers to my chopped hair, and then, I hear his breath catch.

"We've met," he says finally. Lex's voice is warm and gentle, as if he has no problem revealing my biggest secret. Now, on my very first day of college, I am about to be deemed an insane nut job, unworthy of a normal college experience.

"You two know each other?" asks Rebecca. Her eyes squint just before she asks the dreaded question: "How?"

Lex's eyes return to mine, a questioning look in his stare. I give him a quick shake of the head, my breath caught in my lungs. After a moment too long, Lex finally looks away, directing his attention back to Rebecca.

"Summer camp," he says, voice confident. "We were both camp counselors.

"Camp counselors?" asks Mike with a snort. "When were you a camp counselor?"

"Last summer," says Lex with a nonchalant shrug. "When I was visiting my uncle in Idaho."

"Huh, weird," says Mike.

I don't release the breath I'm holding until Mike shrugs and worms his way out of the room. Rebecca starts going through one of her boxes, babbling off a story about a crazy insane party. I try to listen, but my attention is trapped on Lex. He stares at me with confusion, as if he doesn't possibly understand me.

"I need to get back," I say, as soon as there's a break in Rebecca's story. "My parents are probably pissed at me for leaving."

"And I'll go get another box," says Lex.

I cringe slightly, wishing more than anything that he would stay with Rebecca. She waves goodbye to me and sticks her tongue out at Lex as we walk through the door. As soon as we get into the hallway, Lex turns toward me.

"Thank you," I say before he has the chance to speak. "I really appreciate it. But I've got to go."

"I think we should talk. At least get our story straight."

"We will," I say, "But I have to go now."

Then I start to jog, not caring if I look stupid. All I care about is my secret and the possibility Lex might not keep it.

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