Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“Once I put some of my stuff on the walls, it’ll feel homier.” It also has a slightly funky smell I can’t quite put my finger on.
We spend the next hour unpacking. Even with my comforter and my personal effects, the room is still small and shitty, but it’s also away from Kodiak and my brothers, so that’s a win.
Lacey and Lovey have some project they need to finish, and I have a freaking economics assignment I need to work on before class tonight, so they take off, promising to check in on me later, and I pop in my earbuds and try to tackle the questions. I get through most of them before I have to leave for class, but I don’t even have time to stop and grab dinner so I settle for a handful of Lucky Charms before I’m out the door.
By the time class is over, my head feels like it’s going to explode, and also, I’m starving. In addition, I have seven hundred messages from River that I’m not interested in answering. I return to my dorm, expecting that I might meet my roommate, but our common room is still an empty sty.
I toss my bag on the floor, grab my box of Lucky Charms since the cafeteria is closed, and flop down on my bed with my psych text. I must pass out at some point while reading, because I wake up with a jolt.
It’s dark in my room, and the clock reads after midnight. It’s not uncommon for me to sleep for twelve hours after I’ve dealt with some huge emotional thing, so my passing out almost as soon as I got home from class isn’t much of a surprise. The whole conversation with my mom about Kodiak and moving out of the house definitely qualifies as emotional.
A high-pitched, feminine voice filters through my door, followed by the low tones of a male voice, giggling and something falling on the floor. Soon the laughing becomes sighs and groans. Awesome. My new roommate is having sex in the filthy living room.
I pop my earbuds back in and crank the volume to drown them out. Every time a song ends, I get a snippet of their sexy times. It goes on for a good half hour before it finally ends. My dorm experience is starting off with a bang.
____________________
In the morning, my anxiety is at a nice, ridiculously high level. At five thirty, the need to pee overrides my desire to never come out of this room in hopes of avoiding a dreaded run-in with my roommate and her boyfriend/fuck buddy. I have to bring my room key with me to our bathroom because my door automatically locks behind me. This isn’t super convenient, but I can see why it’s necessary.
In addition to the old-food smell, the common room now boasts the horrible odor of used latex and vagina.
I take care of business as quickly as I can and nearly slam into a bare chest on my way out of the bathroom.
“Lavender?”
I lift my gaze from the man nipples to a familiar face. As far as signs go, this isn’t a great one. “Oh, hey, Clarke.”
He looks super confused. “I didn’t know you lived in the dorms.” He runs his hand through his hair, eyes moving over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I’m wearing one of those bra tank things and a pair of sleep shorts. My nipples are most definitely saluting him. I cross my arms over my chest to hide them. “I guess now you do,” is my highly intellectual response.
His eyes flare, as though he’s connecting the dots. “Sorry about the noise last night.”
“Nothing a nice hard-rock playlist won’t drown out.” Now would’ve been an awesome time for my words not to work. “Anyway, bathroom’s all yours.” I slip past him, desperate to disappear before my roommate wakes up and this gets even more awkward. Clarke is a hockey player, and I’m now concerned my roommate may be one of the bunnies I’ve had the misfortune of meeting before.
By the time I’m dressed and ready to leave, it’s quarter to seven.
I sneak out undetected and head for the cafeteria. It’s busy, and I’m not used to communicating with anyone but family this early—and that’s mostly in offensive hand signals.
The noise and sheer volume of people is more than I can deal with, so I grab a coffee and a muffin and head for the Arts Building. My class isn’t for another forty minutes, so I find a quiet corner, pop my earbuds in, cue up a playlist, and settle in with my coffee and my homework. I have a test at the beginning of next week, and unless I can master these concepts, I won’t have a hope in hell of passing. I’m deep into unemployment rates and struggling to understand percentages when a shadow appears in front of me and doesn’t move. I lift my head and am relieved to see it’s not my brothers, or Kodiak, or one of my cousins.