The hardest part of most things in life is starting. Sometimes, when starting is exciting, it can be seen as a new age, a re-birth. What I'm talking about is much simpler. Starting this damn chemistry project for example, now that's something that's hard. But once things get started, you're lost in the blur, and suddenly it's not that bad anymore. Isn't there some famous line..."Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans", yea I guess it's sorta like that. Anyways...this is what happened while I was busy making other plans.

Bailey, Chapter 1.

"Alright listen up!" My professor yells from the front of my chemistry class. "I'm going to pair you up, and number off a table. The tables go 1 to 19 and start at the right so I only hope you guys can figure it out. Go there and meet your Lab partner. This will be your partner for the rest of the year so try to play nice. The lab instructions are over there for you to get started. By the end of next week I expect a full 3 page paper report on the lab and I want the notes from my online lecture typed up too. Okay! Here we go, listen for your name!"

I listen carefully from my spot at the back of the room but my name is called first.

"Bailey Abbott and Connor Nolan, 1."

I stand up and fold my stick, walking over to the table carefully and slowly. Once I've found a smooth counter and a stool to sit down, I wait patiently for my partner and pray I'm at the right table.

After a minute or so, a stool across from me scrapes against the floor and someone flops down.

"Hi, I'm Bailey," I say, politely outreaching my hand to shake.

"Connor," My partner mumbles back, shaking my hand halfheartedly. I hear thumbs tapping on some hard surface... clicking, oh he's texting. I wonder if he has even looked up at me yet.

"Sorry, I had to text someone," He mumbles when the clicking stops.

"It's alright...we should get started though."

"Yea..." He trails off. "Um so what's with the glasses, are you super hungover? You have some fear of indoor lights?"

"No," I laugh lightly. "I'm blind."

I hear him chuckle under his breath. When I maintain a serious face and his laughter dies out, I can tell the truth has hit him.

"You're blind?!"

"Yup."

"Great," He mutters under his breath. "Alright well I guess I'll be carrying us through the year."

"Don't be silly," I smile, pulling my heavy bag onto the counter. "I have plenty of fancy instruments, I'll take the notes, you can look over them. This way you get to do the hands on lab stuff and I get to do all the writing, sound good?"

He's silent and I hear his foot tapping on the floor while his pencil swishes through the air, moving back and forth between his fingers.

"Please, I won't disappoint, trust me," I plead.

"Alright fine. We'll just try this out and see how it goes," He sighs.

He reads the lab sheet to me and I get started on taking the notes while he spends the period doing lab prep.

By the time the 30 minute period's done I'm not even halfway through the notes for our professor's online lecture. This is going to take a long time.

"Okay so," My lab partner clears his throat. "The lab prep's only halfway done. On Thursday I should finish. Then next week we have a class lecture, but we should be able to get the lab done after that," He informs me.

"Okay...sounds good."

I pack up my things but we still have a few more minutes. I shift my head so I'm looking down and I fiddle with my fingers.

"Your glasses are so dark," Connor observes.

"Oh...yea, they're specially made so you can't see my eyes behind them."

"Why? What's wrong with you eyes?"

"Nothing besides the fact that they can't see. I just have them dark so people just don't feel awkward."

"Why would people feel awkward?"

"Well," I heave out a heavy sigh before going on. "If I were to take off my glasses right now, you could see my eyes, and their color, but I wouldn't be able to focus on you. I have no reaction to light. I don't know where to look, so I end up just looking like I'm dazing off, and it makes people feel uncomfortable."

"Oh," He says quietly as his pencil taps on the desk in front of us.

Another minute of silence passes.

"I-uh...I like your glasses," Connor says.

I tilt my head to the side and find myself smiling. "Really?"

"Yea, Ray Bans, they're uh-they're cool."

"Thanks."

Suddenly the professor's voice booms through the air officially ending our conversation.

"Class dismissed! I'll see you all bright and early on Thursday!"

I flash a smile across my table although I don't even know if my lab partner is even looking. Then I carefully unfold my stick and leave the classroom. For the first time in a long time, the feeling of excitement begins bubbling up in my stomach. I really like my Chem Lab class and with Connor as my lab partner, I don't think this will be a bad year.

... ... ... ... ...

It's easier to get to class on Thursday, I know where I'm going more than on Monday. Once I'm in the lab I sit down at my table and pull out my computer to continue on the notes. I'm deeply concentrated on the notes when Conner's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hello," He says cheerfully. Too cheerful for seven A.M.

"Oh god you're a morning person aren't you?" I tease playfully.

I hear him chuckle lightly.

"Oh no, I am not a morning person, trust me. But I've been up for a while so I guess I'm just...awake."

I tap into my senses for a second to pick up the clues around me. Something's hitting the table, lightly, no smaller than a raindrop. A familiar smell is close by but I can't quite put my finger on it. Taking a huge leap of faith I ask, "Can I see your hand?"

"My hand?" He asks, soundings little freaked out.

"I'm not going to do anything weird I promise," I smile, outreaching my own hand.

With a lot of hesitation he finally puts his hand over mine. My fingers get to work feeling his palm and fingers, lightly brushing over his skin. They're rough, and calloused, but cold. Specifically the spot in his hand where palm meets finger is calloused. So he's been gripping something, something rough...but also smooth? Causing slight cuts and...tiny burns. His hands are worn in, slightly cut up, so he does something with his hand. Maybe guitar? No they're too rough. Carpenter? Yes. These are craftsman hands but there's something else too.

plop...plop

Okay, something's wet, it's falling so it has to be higher than his shoulders. It must be his hair. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle click together and I smile feeling proud.

"You were in the ocean this morning," I say pulling my hands away from his. "And you...make or work on surfboards."

He's silent for a second and then I hear his swallow.

"Ah yea...you got it. That's like...freaky."

"Being blind has its perks," I shrug tilting my head back down to continue on the notes.

"Damn straight...I'm impressed."

For the remainder of the class, Connors up and about getting supplies and bringing them back to our table to prepare for the lab. I get about halfway through the notes and I'm making really good progress when Connor flops down across from me.

"How's the note taking going?" He asks.

"I'm about halfway through."

"Oh okay. Do you think you'll get them done in time?"

"Yea, don't worry," I smile reassuringly. "They'll be done in time."

"Class is dismissed!" The professor yells.

I slowly put my things back in my bag. "I'll-uh, see you next week?"

"Right...Monday's the lecture, Thursday is when the lab begins. And then on the next Monday the notes from the online lecture and the 3 page paper is due." He adds the last part just to make sure I remember, and it makes me smile.

"Right. Well, I'll see you then!"

No other response comes so I stand up and walk back home.

I stay up until the early morning, around 2 or 3 A.M finishing the notes. I can't print it out yet because Connor still has to check it, but I feel confident that it'll get us an A.

... ... ... ... ...

Monday's lecture is long and difficult for me to keep up with. I type quickly and rely almost entirely on the autocorrect of my computer.

"Need some help?" A voice asks, sitting down next to me.

"Umm...Connor?"

"Yup, it's me, you look stressed, is it too fast for you?"

"What-I...no. I'm fine. Thanks though." I smile gratefully and tune back in.

"Really?" He whispers, his body pushing into mine.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"Well you just spelled nucleophiles as neuro-files sooo..."

I pick my fingers up from the braille keyboard and groan.

"Fine, you try." I push the laptop in his direction, frustrated.

"Jesus, this thing looks like it's from the 1950s."

I snort a laugh and cover my mouth when the Professor stops talking, probably to look at me.

"Well at least it has the actually letters on it too. Why don't you just get a newer one?" Connor whispers when the Professor starts again.

"These things cost money you know," I smile.

"You have a job?"

"I do, but I mean, these things cost serious amounts of money."

He hums in understanding and types along to the lecture.

"Where do you work?" He asks after a few minutes.

"I'm an intern at a law company."

"You're thinking about going into law?"

"Yea, I hope so."

"So why Chemistry then?"

"I guess it just called to me..." I shrug.

"Alright! That's all for today!" The professor yells. "Lab's tomorrow! Be ready!"

... ... ... ... ...

I hear Connor put the test tube on the heat plate. The winding sound of the timer he's setting fills my ears. Once the acid is heated properly, I'll need to start on the paper.

"New Tab," I say into my headphones microphone.

"Would you like to open a new tab?" The computer asks me.

"Yes," I respond in the microphone.

After a second, the formal woman's computer speaks through my earbuds, "New tab opened."

I find the braille keyboard and type in Google docs, pressing search.

"Would you like me to open your Google Documents account?" The computer asks.

"Yes," I respond.

"Google documents opened."

"Open a Document."

"Would you like me to open a document?"

"Yes."

"Document opened."

"That's seems like a pain in the ass," Connor says.

"You get used to it," I shrug, finding my keyboard to title the paper.

"Don't you get annoyed with all the repetitive yes's you have to say?"

"Not really," I shrug again.

I title the paper and write our names down underneath. "What's your last name again?" I ask.

"Why?" He asks clipped, almost...angry?

"It's for the paper."

"Nolan."

"Thanks."

I type it up and we both sit in silence waiting for the timer to buzz.

"So why do you use a keyboard? Don't you have one of those Bluetooth things that you can just speak into?" He asks, this time sounding much less angry and more curious.

"Well, I used to. But sometimes it doesn't hear you properly and it types up the wrong thing. This way I can depend on myself."

"Right but...everyone makes mistakes. And I mean come on, especially you..." And there's the anger again. He must be having a hard day.

I look down, trying to hide the hurt etched over my face. We fall back into silence and I clear my throat careful not to show any sign of weakness in my voice.

"Whenever I have a project, something I have to type up, I do it, and then ask my neighbor next door to check it. She's always very kind to me and fix's my grammar mistakes. But she just moved...so I was hoping my lab partner would look over the paper, and fix whatever I messed up."

"Oh-right. Well okay. I'll look over it when you're done."

Just then the timer rings for the test tube and I hear the clink of metal on glass as Connor removes the test tube from the plate.

"Okay well, it's was clear sugar water, now it's brown, so that means that the heat caused the glucose molecules convert to proteins, amino acids. But we still have to put the test chemical in."

"Go ahead, I'm gonna start typing."

After just a few minutes his voice cuts through my work.

"That's weird."

"What is?" I question, stopping my writing to give him my full attention.

"The chemical froze the solution."

"It did?"

"Yea it's crystallizing right now."

"So we have to find out what the chemical you put in is right?"

"Yea. So what chemical in reaction to glucose would freeze."

I move my computer to the side and rest my elbows on the table, putting my forehead in my palms.

"Wait, wait, I know this from somewhere. There was an experiment with frogs and when given the chemicals they would freeze, their liver would dump glucose into their system to try and keep their system alive and when the frogs thawed, they were revived."

"Okay so what was the chemical they gave the frogs?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, I can't remember. But I know the chemical from somewhere else too, something back home."

"We only have 10 minutes left in class and then I gotta dump the chemical."

"Okay just...can I feel it?"

"I'm sorry you want to feel it?"

"Yea, let me touch the test tube."

I hear him scoff but when I hold my hand out and let my fingers linger in the air, he grows silent. Eventually I feel the glass on my fingertips and I enclose my hand around the tube. As soon as I feel the cold of the substance I drop it, then quickly move to clean it up.

"Shit," Connor curses.

Before I can process anything else my mind is sent into a flashback. The last time I touched something that freezing.

"I know what it is," I think. Then as I'm reaching across the counter for paper towels, I'm bumped off of my stool and I trip into the counter. I feel the metal of the glasses slip from behind my ear and fall somewhere. It takes me just a second to regain myself.

"Jesus, I barely even bumped you," A female voice says next to me.

"Jessica," Connor sighs.

"What?! It's not like I need to apologize she could of caught the damn counter!"

"Well that may of been hard to do considering she's fucking blind Jess," He scoffs frustratingly.

I push away from the counter and shake my head as if to shake away the loose gravel I feel rolling round in my brain. The next thing I register is my glasses.

"My glasses," I squeak out. I transition to my hands and knees to start searching the ground for them.

"What a freak," The girl Jessica says. "Why do you even stay partners with this girl?"

"Bailey here, let me help you up," Connor says surprisingly gently.

"No my glasses, please my glasses," I say frantically.

"Bailey-"

"Don't- don't look at me... God just...I need my glasses...please."

My hand patting around the floor finds the shape of my glasses and I pick them up with shaking hands. Quickly I slide them on and feel my heart rate begin to slow down. I get up on my own and brush off my jeans.

Suddenly the professor yells, "That's all for today! Clean up your messes, please!"

I back away from Connor and my lower back bumps into the counter behind me. I feel around for my stick and eventually find it, wrapping the handle around my wrist tightly.

"I'll clean up, you can go," Connor says.

I nod and close my laptop, putting it inside my bag carefully.

"I'm sorry about the test tube, and about making a scene," I apologize lifting my head.

"Yea me too," He shoots back coldly, swiping up the glass with something.

I duck my head in shame and manage to speak out,

"The chemical is ethylene glycol...you might also know it as Anti freeze."

He still says nothing but he stops moving.

"I'll finish up the notes and our paper tonight."

I wait for a response, but when I get none, I just slowly turn around and begin tapping with my stick.

I'm out of the building and halfway down the street when his voice calls out for me.

"Hey! Hey wait!"

I stop and turn around waiting for his running footsteps to approach me.

"I'm sorry," He says slightly out of breath. "I'm not on my A game today, my girlfriends on my ass, and I kinda had a bad morning."

"She's the one that...was talking to you? Jessica?"

"Yup, she's the one. Anyways, that's still no excuse. I'm sorry for being such a hard ass earlier...I shouldn't of been such a dick, I'm not usually like that."

I steady my stick perfectly vertical, resting my hands on it, and resting my chin on my hands.

"So what are you usually like?"

"Well..."

The sound of nail on scalp rings in my ears, he's running a hand through his hair? No it's rougher...he's scratching the back of his head. He's nervous.

"I guess I'll just have to figure that out for myself huh?" I say smiling and saving him.

"Yea...I uh...I guess."

I'm about to turn away again when he catches my wrist with his hand.

"Wait, you can come over to my apartment. For me to check the papers I mean."

"Oh, if you're okay with that, it would be great."

"Yea, I live on Cabbeth street, in the apartment complex. My apartment's number 116."

"Alright. Cabbeth street, 116."

"Wait...how will you get there?"

"I'll call a cab," I shrug.

"What if you go to the wrong apartment number?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," I laugh. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out, I always have."

He seems to be considering this before he says, "I can drive you."

"Right now?"

"I mean...yea...yea, right now."

Now it's my turn to consider.

"I...okay. But you're going to have to lead me to your car."

"Okay," He says lightly. I swear I can hear him smiling.

I fold up my stick my put it in my bag, then turn back towards Conner. I grab his arm and hook my hand around it.

"Oh damn I thought we were doing a piggy back ride," He teases.

"Not today," I laugh.

Very carefully, he begins tugging me along to his car. "Come on Electra, I'll walk you."

I swat at his arm lightly. "Electra's not blind. That's Matt Murdock."

"Who?"

"You know...Daredevil?"

"Hmmm interesting...I'm pretty sure it's Electra."

"I have the comic at my apartment don't challenge me on this," I warn, laughing slightly.

He chuckles himself and then I feel his bicep squeeze against my hand lightly...unintentionally. I wait a few minutes as we continue walking in silence but he never talks.

"You want to ask me something..." I say outing him.

"How can you tell?" He asks. His vocal chords strain slightly. He's tilting his head towards me.

"You squeezed my arm slightly, unintentionally, that usually means the person has something to say or a question to ask."

"Okay so you really are like a superhero then?"

"No I'm no super hero..."I laugh. "It's just what happens. When you lose a sense you others become heightened. I can't rely on my eyes so the senses that I rely on most to get by are hearing and touch."

"So can you hear a conversation between other people if they're far away?"

"Define far away..."

"Like...across the parking lot."

"No, I'm not a superhero remember," I smile shaking my head.

"Right. Sorry."

"It's okay. So, what's your question?"

"Oh right, I was just wondering...they make comics in braille?"

"It's actually not braille...ironically enough, I used to read it before I became blind."

"You weren't always?"

"No, there was an...accident."

"What happened?"

"Okayyyy there twenty questions, maybe we'll save that story for another day."

He chuckles, but let's it go, thankfully.

"We're here."

He leads me to the passenger side and opens the door for me, helping me in. He takes the seat belt and stretches it across from me, clicking it in place, and retreating slowly.

"Thank you," I say softly, suddenly shy.

"You're welcome."

The car ride to his apartment is quick and quiet. He helps me out if the car and up the stairs. I hear him flip up a mat by the door where he must keep a key. Once the door swings open, he hangs in the doorway for a minute placing the key back. Then he grabs my arm gently and leads me inside.

"Here's the couch," He says soon sitting me down on a soft cushion. I pull out my laptop immediately and begin opening up the notes when I hear a fridge open.

"Do you want something to drink?" He asks.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

"I'm having a beer, just so you know."

"Oh well in that case I'll just have a water," I smile getting back to work.

I'm about to start typing when my laptop clicks shut in my lap.

"You don't have to start right away, we can talk for a while," Connor suggests softly.

The couch dips where he sits down next to me and he places a cold water bottle in my hands. I place my laptop to the side and turn towards him, untwisting my bottle. He doesn't let any silence fill the gap between us as he starts the conversation immediately.

"Aren't you 21?"

"I am," I nod taking a sip of the water.

"Why no beer then?"

"I just don't like it."

"You don't like the taste? Or you don't like what it does to people."

"Both," I shrug.

"Well hell, there's gotta be a story behind that right?"

"Nope," I shrug again. "Not really."

"So your parents just raised you that way?"

I almost spit out my water and I quickly bring a hand to wipe my mouth.

"No, that's not the case at all."

"Really? No 'don't drink or do drugs' lecturing Mom?"

"Nope. I just believe that because honestly I think it's stupid. And my mom died before I turned 5 so there weren't to many of those lectures," I shrug.

"Oh I'm sorry," He apologizes immediately.

"Don't be. It's not like the cliche where she was some great mom and I lost her in tragedy. She was horrible to me, and she was no angel, she was a heroine addict and she overdosed. She got what was coming to her."

"What about your dad?"

I scoff and fake a small laugh.

"He's no angel either," Is all I respond with.