Home.
The scent of pine, fresh air, and crisp autumn leaves swirled around me as I shut my eyes and breathed in the first real breath I’d been able to take in the last several months. Technically, Bexley University wasn’t really considered home because it was a temporary placement. It was a four-year college, and I was in my third year. I’d only lived here eight months out of the year for the last three, but still, it felt more like a home to me than the small, run-down apartment my mother and I had shared since I was old enough to remember how to leap from one end of the hall to the other without touching the rug.
I took in another deep breath, relishing in the calmness I felt staring at the athletic dorms as I rested against my old Toyota parked behind me in the student lot. It was packed with cardboard boxes full of dorm-room knick-knacks and some dance gear. I was likely the only junior that was actually looking forward to being back at college with its chaos of midnight study seshes, not enough sleep, frat parties—not that I went to many of those, if Taytum had anything to say about it—and dorm rooms that were only big enough to do a split and nothing else, but not many students at Bexley U grew up the way I did. It was an elite college, and I was never the type of girl who belonged, hence why I was here on a partial scholarship.
As if on cue, my phone pinged, and a message came in, sending my entire spine into a steel lock. I sighed, shutting the door to my Toyota with my foot.
Mom: Don’t forget the electric is due tomorrow.
I mumbled under my breath. “Oh yes, I could see how I could forget that your electric bill is due tomorrow. Thank you for the reminder to pay the electric bill that I will not be using for the next eight months.”
“Talkin’ to yourself again?” My shoulder got nudged lightly by Taytum as she blew a bubble with her minty gum and popped it in my face. She didn’t let me answer as she dove in the backseat of my car to pull out a box of my things. “I wish you would just live with me in the sorority house. This whole living-in-the-athletic-dorms thing is lame-o.”
“You know I can’t join a sorority, Tay. I tried that my freshman year, and it did not go over well.”
Memories of being reprimanded by the other sisters in the sorority as if I were back home with my mom slid into my brain, and I shivered on the spot. Even though I had made it through the rushing process, I quickly learned that I wasn’t made out to be in a sorority. Between keeping my grades up so I didn’t lose my scholarship, dance rehearsals, and auditions, plus working in my free time at The Bex—the local restaurant and bar on campus—so I could afford the other half of my tuition plus help my mom with bills, I just didn’t have the time.
So, living in the athletic dorms was my best bet, and I was fine with it. It didn’t make any difference to me.
“Yeah, but you’re like a top dog now. You can do what you want, and all the littles will do whatever you need them to do. You have seniority now.”
“I would never make an underclassman—”
“Sister,” she corrected, pushing her adapted sorority language onto me.
I laughed as we climbed the cobblestone steps to my new dormitory. “Whatever. I wouldn’t make someone else do something for me. You know that I like to do things myself.”
“Oh, yes. I know. Little Miss Independent. I’m surprised you’re even letting me carry one of your boxes for you.”
“What are you even doing here anyway?” I asked, putting my box down by my feet to pull my phone out again. I sorted through my emails, looking for my room number that had unsurprisingly worn off from the key I was given. Bexley University was one of the oldest schools in New England, and the primeval architecture wasn’t the only thing lacking in the 21st century department.
Room 213.
“I came by to snag a schedule for when the auditorium is available for practices. There’s a ridiculous number of auditions this semester and one that I know you’ll be interested in. If you get it, your tuition will be paid next year.”
I already knew of it, and she was right. I was interested.
“I grabbed you and Jaclyn a schedule.”
I sighed in relief, grabbing my box from her. “You’re the best. Thank you. Is Jaclyn living over here too? I thought she was living off campus with her boyfriend.”
“She dumped him. Oh, what room are you? Maybe you guys are rooming together.”
“I’m 213.”
Once I got to the stairs to head to the second floor, bypassing one too many underclassmen who had no choice but to live in the athletic dorms, unlike me who chose to, I realized that Tay was no longer beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, lifting the box up a little higher. I could hear my pens and pencils rolling around in the bottom.
Taytum’s eyebrows folded inward, and her pink lips were suddenly turned downward. “Are you sure you’re in room 213?”
“Yeah.” My voice dropped as she came closer to me. “Why do you look so concerned?” I started up the stairs, hoping she would follow. “Stop trying to get me to join your sorority. I don’t have time for that. Some of us peasants have to work, ya know.”
Taytum is one of the lucky ones, as I like to call them. You know, the ones that came from a wealthy family and had a juicy bank account that their parents liked to fill every so often so their children could focus on their academics and extracurriculars. Don’t get me wrong, though, she wasn’t spoiled. Taytum was smart, driven, and kinder than any friend I’d ever had. It drove her absolutely crazy that I’d never allowed her to pay for my coffee or—even worse—my books for the semester.
College books were expensive, and quite frankly, it wasn’t fair. Three hundred dollars for a book that I’d use a handful of times? It was just unethical at that point.
“It’s the male floor, though. My brother used to live in this dorm before he got his apartment.”
I stopped walking for a split second, freezing at a standstill on the third step from the top of the stairway that led to the hall that reeked of too many different types of colognes. There was a hint of AXE body spray, and I was suddenly transported back to freshman year of high school, after Christmas break, when every boy in my grade seemed to get three gallons of it under their tree.
I hesitated before asking, “Wait, what?”
“Yeah.” Taytum stepped beside me, and our eyes met. “This is the male floor. Females on floor one, males on floor two, females on floor three, and males on floor four.”
“I thought this was an all-girls dorm.” Skepticism began to seep through my pores, as if my skin was deprived of that very thing.
“Not Dorothy Hall. I’m pretty sure some of Emory’s friends live on the second floor,” Taytum whispered, moving closer to me as a skyscraper of a man jogged down the stairs, eye-fucking her for several long seconds before smirking and continuing on his way.
Heat blasted my cheeks, and I cursed under my breath. “In any other world, I would assume this was a joke, but it’s me, and the world has a way of shitting on me every chance it gets.”
Taytum stayed quiet as we continued on our way to our final destination, which—surprise, surprise—was a hallway full of jocks.
Each set of eyes swung our way, and Taytum—being the total knockout that she was and used to jocks because her older brother, Emory, played on Bexley U’s hockey team—straightened her shoulders and put on her best don’t-fuck-with-me face as we walked in silence until we stood in front of room 213.
“Check your email again,” she said, looking over at me as snickers came in every direction. I was pretty certain I heard a catcall, too, but that may have been my overactive imagination.
Instead of checking my email, I put my key in the keyhole, and sure enough, the door opened right up. Again, our eyes met, and Taytum began laughing hysterically. I, however, did not. “Are you sure you don’t want to join my sorority? You get your own room.”
I shot her a look of annoyance and let the door shut behind me, glancing at the glow of the lamp on the desk to the right. There were already books stacked on top and a black bag on the floor beside the somewhat lumpy bed. The comforter was navy, and you could tell right away that it was a male’s room. Not a single twinkle light was hung, and everything was so moody.
“I’ve had my fair share of roomies,” I started, following Taytum as she put my box on the desk opposite of the one on the right. “The emo girl who left her straightener on during our freshman year and almost burnt down the entire building. Then there was the swimmer who made everything smell like chlorine.”
“And the girl who Chad hated with a passion because she tried to drag you to frat parties every weekend.” Taytum threw her blonde hair into a bun on top of her head. “Oh wait, Chad hates everyone that gets close to you.”
Taytum wasn’t wrong. My boyfriend did hate everyone that got close to me. He was the jealous type, and it was my least favorite thing about him.
“Anyway,” I interrupted her, moving past the discussion of Chad, who Taytum loathed. “I’ve never had a male roomie, so this has got to be a first.”
“And a mistake,” Taytum clarified, putting her hands on her hips. “Is that even allowed? I mean, we’re all adults here, but I don’t think males and females room together at Bex U. Other colleges? Maybe. But at Bex U?
“You need to go talk to admissions before you move any more boxes in here. It had to have been a mistake. Come on.” She took the box from my hands and put it on the desk. Then her hands found my shoulders, and she spun me around and pushed me out the door. “I’ll go with you in case they try to walk all over your sweet little personality.”
“I can be stern when I need to be.”
Taytum rolled her eyes. “Mmhm. Let’s go. I can be there for moral support if you so deem it appropriate that you handle this yourself like you do every other situation in your life.”
She and I walked down the hall, ignoring every male who looked as if they belonged in a locker room instead of a dormitory, half of them glistening in sweat from a practice or workout, and the other half looking like they were ready to go to the club at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon.
