Unfamiliar

  Chapter Three

 

  Hailey

 

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Braxton asked me for probably the hundredth time today as he set the last of my boxes down on the unclaimed twin bed in this fun-sized room. Seriously. I was pretty sure my bathroom at home was bigger than my new living quarters—and that was saying something.

  “Live a whole hour away from you instead of right next door? Of course not.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. “But you know that I don’t really have a choice. I have to live on campus to get my scholarship. And I need this scholarship.”

  I had spent the last few months trying to find a loophole, but it was no use. Oakdale University had strict rules and regulations when it came to the few scholarships that they handed out. I had no choice but to live on campus for at least two years. Me. In a dorm room with a complete stranger. I knew most people wanted to go away to college and get the entire college experience. I was most certainly not one of them.

  I just wanted to graduate with as little exposure to co-eds, beer pong, and keggers as possible.

  “I know,” he sighed then kissed the top of my head. “Still on for lunch Sunday?”

  “Of course.” I smiled at him. “It’s almost eight, you should probably head back. I can unpack the rest myself.”

  We only lived an hour from campus, but he didn’t like to be away from home too long in case his mom needed him.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  “Yep, I’m sure. It’ll actually help to calm me down about tomorrow.” Tomorrow was freshman orientation which I was very nervous about, so I was hoping that the methodical routine of organizing my things and making this place more like home would distract me and help me to feel more settled. You would think that at eighteen-years-old I would be over the typical first day of school jitters. But this was different. This was college and I wasn’t really sure what to expect, which was a little nerve racking. I didn’t handle the unexpected very well.

  “Okay. I’ll pick you up this weekend?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I love you, Hailey Peters.”

  “I love you, too.” He kissed me. “Have a good first day of school.” He kissed me again before leaving me alone in my box-filled dorm room.

  I sat down on the thin mattress that would be my bed for the next year and took a look around. The room screamed institution with its cream colored cinder block walls and generic beige colored floor tiles. I made a mental note to pick up an area rug ASAP. If I was going to be stuck here for the next year I was at least going to attempt to make it as homey as possible.

  A small window on one wall separated a pair of identical twin beds which faced two empty closets on the opposite wall. Braxton had helped me set up my desk since it was too heavy for me to lift by myself and it didn't go unnoticed that it was the only desk so far in the room.

  My unidentified roommate was nowhere in sight, but she had obviously been here at some point because her side of the room was piled high with boxes as well. I tried not to judge as I compared my neatly sorted stacks to the jumbled pile of unlabeled boxes and trash bags strewn haphazardly across her area. With no markings to distinguish one box from another, I wondered how she was going to possibly find anything without sifting through each package one by one. I scrunched up my nose in disgust. This clearly was a bad idea. I wished freshmen were allowed private rooms.

  To distract myself while I waited for the Mystery Slob to appear, I started to unload my own boxes and put everything away. Because I had taken the time to pack carefully and label everything, it only took me about an hour to unpack and organize my entire side of the room. It took all of my self-control not to start organizing the roommate's belongings as well.

  Classes officially started in two days and I still wasn’t sure what my final schedule was going to be. I’d get that tomorrow at orientation. I hated that I had to wait until last minute to get my books— that was the whole point of enrolling early so I had ample time to prepare.

  I knew when I enrolled early over the summer that I might not get the classes I wanted as an incoming freshman. My adviser warned me that upperclassmen got first dibs, but there was always a chance that someone would drop so I’d taken the risk. I wanted my schedule so I could start planning the remaining seven semesters between now and graduation. The earlier I had it in my hands, the better.

  I had printed my schedule out weeks ago and placed it in its rightful location inside my three-ring planner only to find out last week that I didn’t get into one of my pre-selected classes so I was forced to choose a different elective.

  This really threw a wrench into my entire four-year plan.

  After spending hours scouring through the catalog and drafting countless pros and cons lists and references back to the requirements for my major versus which classes were still available (just to be sure I didn’t miss an important one), I finally decided to go with Music Composition. I knew it was completely illogical, but if I had to choose between an extra math class and a music class, well, the latter was a hundred times more preferable despite the more practical nature of the first.

  At least I liked music.

  Okay, so I actually loved music. I loved playing the piano and my acoustic guitar— sometimes I even sang in the shower, but I’d never considered taking a music class.

  My love for it had always been very private—my own personal form of therapy. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of sharing that piece of me with anyone else, especially complete strangers, but I figured at least I had a basic understanding of music composition so it would allow me time to focus on my other classes which was a major plus.

  I decided to go shower and get ready for bed since it was getting late and I had to be in room 609 at 8am sharp tomorrow for orientation. I grabbed my purple plastic basket of toiletries, put on my robe, and slipped on my designated bathroom flip flops before making my way down to the communal bathroom.

  Lucky for me, no one else was showering so it was almost as good as being in my own bathroom, though not quite. When I finished, I twisted a towel around my long mousey brown hair to keep from dripping down the hall to my room.

  On the way, I passed a couple of giggling girls and a guy who was so brawny I would guess him to be on the football team.

  “Hi,” one of the bubbly blondes squealed with a dramatic wave.

  “Hi.” I smiled back politely but didn’t make eye contact as I made a determined beeline for my room. I wasn’t anti-social, but I definitely wasn’t comfortable having a conversation with strangers in my bathrobe.

  “You must be Hailey Peters!” A tall, super-model thin girl with tight auburn ringlets and big brown eyes greeted me cheerfully as I reached my door. “I’m Tessa Rowe! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

  Then she threw her arms around me, trapping my arms at my sides. My new roommate was a hugger. She let go only a second later, but it was a second too long for me considering this was the first time we’d met. We had exchanged a few emails to determine which items each of us would bring to the room per the recommendation of the university. They suggested this in order to prevent doubles of big things like televisions and mini-refrigerators. “Um, hi. It’s nice to meet you,” I replied awkwardly.

  “How long have you been here? I mean, I got here this afternoon and I’m still not unpacked! I got distracted when I met a couple of guys. One lives on this floor. He’s all the way from Miami, Florida! Can you imagine leaving Florida for the Midwest? I’d take a beach over cornfields any day. The other one—Jonathan—he's in a band! He invited me to come see his band play on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged, but I don't think she really heard me anyway.

  “How did you get unpacked so quickly? I would’ve been here earlier, but I went out to dinner with some girls on the floor. I feel bad
that you had to bring all your boxes up by yourself. I would’ve helped.” Tessa talked fast; really fast, like she was worried that if she didn't say everything she wanted to say right this minute, the opportunity would slide right through her fingertips.

  “My boyfriend helped carry the boxes, but he left a couple of hours ago.”

  “Oh! A boyfriend! Tell me all about him.”

  “Um, okay? Can I get dressed first?”

  “Sure, go ahead! I’m not shy.”

  Apparently, it didn’t matter that I was. I considered investing in a room divider just to have some semblance of privacy.

  “Well, um, his name is Braxton.” I turned away so my back was to her. I pulled on my pajama pants before taking my robe off. Then I quickly shrugged into the matching cami before turning back around. “We’ve been together for, um, I guess almost five years now.”

  “Say what?!” She was in the middle of taking a drink of the Mountain Dew in her hand and spewed it everywhere. Charming.

  I grabbed the Clorox wipes from the top shelf of my closet and handed her a few, then started wiping up the mess myself before it got all sticky and attracted ants.

  Half-heartedly dabbing at the puddles she asked, “You’ve seriously been together since you were fourteen? Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I knew that Braxton and I had a unique relationship, but back home everyone was used to it so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Clearly, Tessa thought otherwise. “Wow. That’s amazing. Didn’t you ever want to date anyone else?” “Not really.” I shrugged.

  “Never?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you must know everything about him!”

  “I do know everything about him.” And I was pretty proud of that fact.

  “I just think that would be so boring. Do you miss the butterflies? The beautiful kind of jittery feeling you get when you know you are about to see him?”

  I wasn’t really sure what butterflies she was talking about. I had read about girls getting all giddy over a boy, but I always thought that was just in books and fairy tales—at least I had never experienced it. I was pretty sure stuff like that didn’t happen in real life. It didn’t seem at all realistic or beautiful for that matter—it kind of seemed like it would be a little unpleasant to tell the truth. Who wanted flying insects fluttering around in their stomach?

  “I guess not. But that’s why I like it. It’s comfortable.”

  She just looked at me disbelievingly at first, but then there was a noticeable shift and she said, “He must be pretty great.”

  “He is.”

  “That must be nice.” She shoved everything off of her bed and flopped down. She lay unmoving for several minutes and I kept thinking that at any second she was going to hop up and start unpacking her things, but when it looked like she might actually fall asleep despite her generous consumption of caffeinated beverage I decided I needed to intervene. For my own sanity.

  “Do you want me to help you unpack?” I finally asked because I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand the chaos.

  She eyed me carefully and then shifted her gaze between my neat and tidy side of the room and back at the mess that was hers.

  “Is the mess bothering you?” She seemed mildly amused by this.

  “A little bit.” I admitted sheepishly.

  “OCD?” she asked, and for some reason it didn’t offend me—it actually caused me to crack a smile. Apparently, Tessa didn’t have much of a filter.

  “Unofficially diagnosed.”

  “Well then, yes, please, by all means, help me unpack and organize the chaos that is my life.” She walked over to the only thing of hers that was unpacked—her laptop—and after a moment of clicking, music started blaring out of the speakers. She must have been rocking out earlier. She turned it down to background level and I recognized the song. It was one I had recently stumbled across by an indie band from the West Coast. Nobody I knew had ever heard of them—nobody except for me and my new roommate anyway. Tessa started singing along and it made me smile.

  “You know this song?”

  “Hmm?” She turned to look at me. “Oh, yeah. I spent my summer in Oregon visiting family and discovered the band. They're great, right?”

  She continued hanging up her clothes in her closet and though I had to suppress the urge

  to color coordinate them, I couldn't help but think that maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.