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Think.
Think.
There isn’t even a break between songs when “Landslide” repeats for the third time, louder than before.
“That’s it.” I set my laptop aside and stand again.
“We need to get along with them,” Matt says with a laugh, but there’s a tone of caution in his voice.
Ignoring him, I turn up my stereo speakers until “Landslide” is completely drowned out by Dave Grohl. This time I can’t resist looking into the room across the hall, and the sight doesn’t disappoint. Red stands in the doorway, and she’s straight up glowering.
She says something, but her voice gets lost in the music.
With a shrug, I mouth the word “Sorry,” and point to my ear. “Can’t hear you.”
Her eyes flare, and she marches over, pushing past me to get into the room.
“What the hell?” I turn around to find her yanking my stereo plug out of the wall. The silence that fills the room is deafening. She must have turned off her music at some point because there’s nothing.
She stands there, holding my stare. I expect her to explode, but she just takes a breath and says, “Have a great day, Matt.”
“Yup. You too, Margot,” Matt says, his voice clipped and uncomfortable.
Stepping around me, she marches across the hall, and I track her movements as she goes. Turning, she flips me the bird before slamming the door shut.
This girl is a piece of work. She knows she’s the one who started this fight, right? How is it my fault my stereo gets louder than her shitty laptop speakers?
“All right,” Matt says as he grabs his keys. “Let’s go get food before you two burn the place to the ground.”
9
margot
Asshole.
He really does bring out the worst in me, and I can’t shake the feeling he keeps winning.
Winning what? No idea.
But every time he and I go head to head, I walk away feeling like he got the final jab, and it just makes me want to try again. Even today, I slammed the door in his face. I finally got to be the one to shut him out.
He said nothing.
He did nothing.
And somehow his lack of reaction still has me feeling like he got the last word, like he was able to so easily dismiss having his stereo unplugged and a door slammed in his face.
Like he doesn’t care.
And somehow, his not caring is the ultimate last jab.
I think he and Matt might have left, but I keep my door shut. Settling at my desk again, I try to get back on track. I stare at my screen where the picture of Izzy’s album clock stares back at me with my most recent post draft beneath it.
Networking Through Taylor Swift
College can be a daunting time for anyone. It’s a new school, and chances are you’ve landed in a new city or state. Meeting people can feel like a burden even though we’re all in the same boat. We all left old friends to find new ones, so why does walking up to someone on your floor and starting a conversation feel like volunteering as tribute?
I planned on writing about how we can find common ground through music, but as I stare at the words, something doesn’t feel right. Sure, I connected with Izzy a few weeks ago over music, but my stereo war with Jackson proves music can drive people apart, too. I hit the delete key until I’m left with a blank screen again. The post was vague, anyway. Back home I used to write about local people, places, events, etc. I plan on doing that for the Tampa area now that I live here, but everything is still too new.
