We head right, per Caroline’s instructions. The center elevator dings, spilling out a handful of sweaty teenagers, adults, and empty hand trolleys. As soon as it clears, our group piles in, leaving no room for strangers.
“Three, right?” Dad asks, his hand hovering by the elevator buttons.
“Three,” Theo and I answer in unison.
And with that, the doors slide shut, enveloping us in a brief moment of quiet.
“Theo, I have to ask,” Theo’s older sister, Grace, breaks the silence with a huff, blowing a rogue magenta curl out of her face. “How do you have this much stuff? I thought you said you were going to leave your vinyls at home.”
Theo scoffs. “I said I’d leavesomeof them at home.”
Nathaniel—Theo’s younger teenage brother—snorts, and our eyes meet to share a grin at Theo’s expense.
“God,” Grace mutters. “So you brought the turntable and everything? Is that why this box is so heavy?”
“Be nice, Grace,” Theo’s mom, Kora, reprimands softly.
“Wouldn’t it be worse if he only brought his vinyls without the turntable?” Caleb chimes in, gently nudging Theo’s side with a grin. “Also, for therecord–”
“Boooo,”I interject.
Theo’s boyfriend shoots me a glare before continuing. “–I still think it’s cute.”
“Thanks, babe,” Theo says softly, that goofy, lovesick grin on his face.
“Ugh, you’re both gross,” I add. “But real talk—Theo, buddy, have you not heard of Spotify?”
Nathaniel snorts again.
“Ha ha,” Theo laughs mockingly. “You all laugh now, but when your favorite album randomly vanishes from streaming platforms because of some dumb record label drama, and suddenly you can’t listen to it anymore–”
“We get it, Theo, you’re cooler than us,” I interrupt, readjusting my grip on the moving box to keep my fingers from going numb. I glance at Dad and see he’s grinning. “My dad sure thinks so, don’t you, Pops?”
Dad’s smile widens. “I’m just glad to know there are still some kids out there with good taste. Maybe there’s hope for your generation after all.”
Theo beams, and I roll my eyes. Before I can come up with another quip, the elevator dings, and we all shift back into moving mode.
We’re released into a quieter hallway, still bustling with students, parents, and faculty, but nothing like the lobby. Dad leads the way this time, followed by Theo, Caleb, me, Nate, Kora, and Grace.
“It’s room 319, right?” Dad calls back.
“I think it might be on the left,” I say, biting back a grin.
Everyone collectively groans, except Theo, who actually answers the question. “Yes, sir. 319.”
Before long, we arrive, huddled in front of room 319. Theo gently sets the box he’s carrying on the ground, reaches for the royal purple lanyard around his neck, and excitedly taps the keycard against the panel until it clicks.
The door opens into the common area, sparsely furnished with a cherry-wood-colored dining table and four chairs to ourright, and a rather dingy plum-colored couch and a grayish armchair straight ahead in the living room. There’s also a small bookshelf, a coffee table, and an end table of matching cherry wood, all randomly arranged in the living room, which is brightly lit by three full windows at the far end of the space. To the left is the kitchen—complete with a refrigerator, dishwasher, microwave, stove, and oven. Small hallways extend to the left and right of the common areas, where I presume the bathrooms and bedrooms are.
“I’m in room D, and Oliver, you’re in C,” Theo announces, pointing to the small letter “C” above the closest door frame on the right—which is apparently mine. “Looks like we’re sharing a bathroom.”
“Sweet,” I say, plopping my box by my bedroom door and peeking around the corner to check out the bathroom. It has a double vanity in the space across from our bedrooms and a separate door leading to the shower and toilet. I catch my reflection in the mirror—dark umber eyes contrast my fair, pink-tinted complexion, shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, baby hairs poking out in all directions—and I grin. After sharing a bathroom with two preteen stepsisters for several years, I am certain this is more than enough counter space for two college boys.
“Wow, this place is nice,” Grace says aloud. “Like, this isn’t a dorm, this is a straight-up apartment.”
“Costs about as much as a luxury apartment, so I’d sure hope so,” Dad mutters.
“Oh, this is lovely,” Kora declares from the kitchen. “Lots of counter space for cooking!”
