We sit in awkward silence until I clear my throat, trying not to let my disappointment show. This was a sign, that’s all it was. In no world could I even think about what would happen if I were in bed with Hunter rather than the person on the other end of the line.
It’s fine. I can be civil. Friends would be pushing it, but it won’t be bad to see him once or twice a week. It won’t be the twoof us alone either, so the temptation to push his limits won’t be there.
“Maybe next time,” I offer, shrugging my shoulders, grabbing the remote, and pressing play on the documentary.
7
HUNTER
The crick in my neck causes my whole body to throb. I’m in pain, and I have no one to blame except myself. Or maybe my stupid roommate. He’s horrible. I hate him. I especially hate him right now as I try to unfold myself off the couch in the lounge on our floor. The room thankfully has a door with a lock, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone bursting in on me in the middle of the night, but the cheap vinyl couch wasn’t the best option. I think I would have rather dealt with the confrontation with my roommate. It’smyroom too, and I have as much right to be in there as he does.
I grab my bag off its place on the couch, where I used it as a pillow, and march my way back to my dorm room, faking way more confidence than I feel.
My stomach is in knots, and I can feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back, even with the high-powered AC cooling off the hallways.
He can’t do anything to me; this isn’t high school, where kids get away with bullying. We’re adults now, at least almost adults, so we have a different set of rules. And I refuse to be pushed around by anyone. I’ve spent my life being treated like that.
My key is still on the lanyard that I’ve been keeping tucked into my shirts. I don’t want to be the weird kid who wears a lanyard everywhere, but I refuse to be caught outside of my room without this key.
I approach my door, and the two cutouts of hand-colored goldfish my RA taped to it are smiling condescendingly at me.
All I have to do is open the door. That’s all I have to do. And it’s Saturday, so he’s probably not even here. He mentioned on the first day that he was going to be gone a lot on weekends because of football, so at least I can have that time all to myself.
I press my key into the lock and turn it until I hear the click. I grit my teeth, my heart rate pounding as I push the door open.
There’s no one here. I’ve never been more thankful to be alone.
I throw my bag on my bed, holding my breath until it comes to a stop right at the edge. I expect it to fall off, and wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of it all. The one thing that probably would send me over the edge.
It doesn’t move, and with my heartbeat finally slowed down to a manageable level, I decide to pass the time by checking my orders on my website. There are a few now, business is slowly picking up. I pull out my portable laminator and box of supplies and get to work.
Three hours later, the crick in my neck is gone. Instead, it’s moved to my lower back, and my stomach is growling, too.
I should put a pin in this current project and go for a walk to get some food, but if I don’t finish it now, I’ll forget. I quickly and efficiently place the last of the dried flowers on the cardstock, making sure not to jostle it too much while I run it through the laminator. My hand-me-down mini-Cricut already has the design preloaded, so as soon as this bookmark makes it through the laminator, it’ll be ready for the decal to go on top.
When that’s done, I decide to call it a day. Checking my phone, I discover the battery is dead. Crap, I guess I should have checked it before I got immersed in my project. If my mom called, she’s probably worried sick. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her to drive the three hours here just to check on me.
I’ll just leave it plugged in to get a little juice in it while I take a quick shower, taking advantage of the lack of people in the dorms today. It seems like everyone has cleared out, everyone except me.
The melancholy settles over me like a thick fog. I’m a loner, but not by choice. I love being around people, I love friendship and physical connection. All the things everyone gives freely, just not to me.
I should be used to it by now, but no matter how many times it happens, it still hurts. Before, I would curl in on myself. Lock my door and sob into fictional books for an escape, dreaming of action, adventure, and love. The experiences I want to have.
And I will have them, come hell or high water. I'm going to make college my bitch.
Now showered and dressed,I enter back into my dorm room to find it mercifully empty.
My phone is charged enough, and I check my notifications. Not seeing anything new from my parents, I pocket it and double-check that the door is shut behind me.
Campus is bustling outside, with students enjoying the warm weather by lying on blankets in the grass or tying their hammocks up in between the trees. I have to dodge people on the sidewalks, but that’s fine. I have one place in mind, the place that I found that night after move-in day.
A short walk through the center of campus, to the right at the pedestrian light, and three blocks down. The sun is beating down on me, and a bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, cooling off my overheated skin. Blue cottony clouds hang heavy overhead, not stifling the sun but promising rain in a few days’ time. The hustle of the crowds around me makes me feel like an outsider, and I hunch down on myself to be smaller.
When I finally get to the rundown café, the door is shut. With graffiti spray-painted on the side in an array of colors and the lack of signage, a normal person might think it’s closed. I’m not normal, though, because when I accidentally stumbled across it looking for the campus bookstore, I realized that no matter how weird people might think I am, being weird pays off.
The first time I stumbled upon it, I wasn’t sure what to think. It was extremely secretive, only a vague riddle on the door and an arrow for the drop box. But when I put the clues together about the riddle and dropped it in the box, I waited, instead of walking away like I probably should have—my curiosity getting the better of me.
I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I wasn’t sure if the riddle would open the door or if it was some top-secret riddle-making company that wanted to test people’s knowledge.
