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ONE
Noelle
Do you want to live your dreams? read the poster that was currently at my eye level. I snorted to myself, looking around to make sure no one had heard me before going back to my task.
The printer made an awful noise, and I looked up around me with a start. Thankfully, no one seemed to have heard, or at least, none of them were paying too close attention. That was one thing about campus libraries, I supposed. It didn’t really matter if you were being quiet, as long as you weren’t being loud. I silently cursed at the printer, who had eaten one of the last sheets of paper I was printing to take back to the dorm, simultaneously wishing I had help and being grateful that no one was around to judge me. I should have just used my printer, anyway, but part of my stipend got me free printing, so here I was.
I was frustrated as hell, trying not to hit the stupid piece of university equipment. In that regard, not much had changed over the last almost four years since I attended here as an undergrad.
“Dammit,” I said, pulling the crumpled sheet out and disposing of it in the recycling bin. Sometimes I forgot how slow these machines could be, and all I wanted to do right now was meet with Hazel and then get back to my room. A nice nap sounded good. How was it only the first day of school, and I was already exhausted? I had moved in two weeks ago, to train my Resident Assistants—RAs—and get everything ready for the semester, and that was all before my classes would actually start—which was tomorrow.
It was crazy—one moment I was walking across the stage of my college graduation, accepting my diploma with a smile, planning out my future with my perfect dream guy, and the next… I looked up from my stack of papers and looked around the library. It somehow didn’t feel real, even after all this time, that I was back here.
That I was finally doing something I completely loved, every moment of the day. And working towards, well… something. Was it the job I had thought I would have four years out of college? No, absolutely not. But there was something about it that made me happy. That no matter how many struggles I faced with my residents—I enjoyed it. I trudged back from the library to the four-story dorm that I had called home for the last two years as Hall Director. It also came with the perk of the university paying for me to get a master’s degree for free—something I was almost done with.
Here I was, with just three classes left till I would have my MBA—three nights a week where I would sit in a lecture hall with thirty to forty other graduate students for three hours, before bundling up and getting ready to repeat the same schedule the next day. Sleep. Eat. Work. Class. Finish my assignments. One night a week on duty for the entire campus. Supervising my RAs. And repeat. My final semester of graduate school, and here I was feeling the same excited jitters all over again. If someone had told me four years ago when I graduated and received my diploma that I’d be back, working for the university and getting a master’s degree, I never would have believed them. But I couldn’t help but be grateful to be here. Especially after everything that had happened in New York.
My eyes drifted back to the dream poster. It could have been about anything, honestly, but the reason it caught my eye was so much more than that. Dreams. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt like I had any. What was I searching for? What did I want in life? I didn’t know.
Hadn’t really known what I was going to do since I got back to Portland.
I had moved home and applied for a job with my alma mater, and that was how I found myself here—on the first day of school, a bunch of coloring sheets printed out in my hands. Don’t laugh—college students loved to color.
Getting this job on campus where I was able to do the things I excelled at—leadership, mentorship, and yes, the occasional arts and crafts project to help decorate my building—it had surprised me to find it was where I thrived. I loved creating and fostering those relationships with students each year. My residents, my staff—they were like my family. Besides my best friends, they were the people I felt closest to in the world.
Especially since my relationships with my actual family were strained, to say the least. But that was what happened when you moved across the country only to come back a year later. Disappointment. I could feel it, too, whenever my mom looked at me. Whenever she called me.
I left the library with a sigh, checking my phone for the time as I trudged over in the drizzle of the day to meet Hazel.
“Noelle!” Hazel, my Assistant Hall Director, waved me over to the table on the patio outside of the student union, which also happened to house the best on-campus coffee shop.
She held up a cup for me. With her brown tight curls piled on top of her hair in a bun, warm brown skin, and a beautiful complexion, she was absolutely gorgeous. I was so envious that it never seemed like she had to try to look good. No matter what she wore—edgy or professional, she always pulled it off. I swore she would look good in a pair of ratty sweats, even.
“You’re an angel.” I grinned, taking the cup from her. Truthfully, I didn’t know what I would do without her. Over three semesters with her, we had grown close—and I tried not to take her for granted for one second. We were a team, and we were friends, and if we also occasionally ended up in the same class together working on our masters, it was just an added perk.
“I know.” She smirked before pulling out her phone and frowning. “Looks like it’s going to rain most of the evening. Bummer.”
I laughed. “Haze, did you really expect anything less during January in Portland?”
“No,” Hazel just sighed. “But I thought it’d be fun to do something with our new residents outside on the lawn—like s’mores and bonding.”
I just shook my head. “Sounds like the perfect activity for fall. You know when school starts in August and it’s sunny.”
She gave me a resigned look and then nodded. “So… Should we do a movie night in the lounge?”
I loved that she was constantly planning last-minute activities for the dorm—even if it was the beginning of the semester, I had no doubt girls would wander down if they found out there were snacks to be had. Too bad I didn’t have time to make cookies. I absolutely loved making them. But I was still trying to get everything set up for the bigger events we had planned for the hall in the next few weeks.
“Sure,” I confirmed. “You can pick. But something actually new this time.”
Hazel laughed. “So… notLegally Blonde again?” I just shook my head. It was one of my favorite movies, but we had definitely shown that last semester. We couldn’t help it—both of us loved romance movies. I did too, still, even after I had gotten my heart broken. Even after I had sworn off men for a few years, needing the time to just be me.
And there I sat on the patio, taking a deep inhale of the fresh, clean air. The scent of rain still lingered behind—leaving the place smelling so quintessentially home. I appreciated my life for what it was for a blissful moment. A fresh clean start of endless possibilities. Even bundled up in the cold, with a caramel latte in my hands, and a list of things I needed to get done for the day, I still felt victorious. Like this was going to be the best semester yet.
Even if I didn’t know what was coming next.
“What are you smiling about?” Hazel asked.
“Nothing.” I just shook my head with a smile. And then— “Everything. How lucky we are, I guess.”
