ONE

♥ Lucille ♥

I'm almost there. Larz Anderson University. When it comes to colleges, it's nothing too special, but if I'm in Massachusetts, I get to be close to home.

I was born and raised in York, Maine, and I like being so close to my parents. I'll hardly need to travel for holidays, and I can even do weekend visits if necessary.

My parents said they might come down to visit occasionally too. They're the best. My dad is the stereotypical goofball, funny dad. And my mom is a big sweetheart. I don't know what I did to deserve them, but I'm so glad I do.

I got to the city of Brookline a few minutes ago, and I'm headed straight for the dorms. I left around noon, and I'm getting here at 2 PM. Though, I did stop at IKEA to pick up a desk chair so that caused a delay. My sister, Quinn ordered it for me as a going-away gift. She's only 13, starting her 8th grade year. I remember that being my best school year. It was the last one before high school, plus it was when I met Claire. She's my real-life best friend, but now she's going to Colorado for college...

I have a friend, Dakota, who's going here though! We met online through Tumblr. She's my only online friend, but sometimes it's nice being able to just chat with someone through messages or I suppose even Facetime calls.

In-person hangouts tend to stress me out. Well, no. People asking questions stress me out, and this isn't a rare occurrence when conversing with people. It feels like I'm being put on the spot. Most of the time I end up saying "I don't know", which is generally because I'm blanking from the sudden attention. My mind clears, my heart races, I become all warm... Live, laugh, love, anxiety.

I've just driven past the main campus. It's actually kind of beautiful. Lots of bright green grass and flowers. I see lots of students out there now. This is the week most people are moving in for the Fall semester, so it's natural people are getting out there. I probably should too.

I made a promise to myself (and to my therapist) that I'd try to get out there and make friends. That I'd use the techniques she gave me if I'm feeling stressed. That I'd be the one to reach out to people instead of decomposing in my room waiting for someone to talk to me!

And so far things are looking good. Dakota found out about a party that's happening later tonight. I'm moving in a day later than most people, so if I'm tired that's my fault, but I'm hoping to have some fun. Dakota said she already knows a few people here, it's close to her hometown after all. She said she'd introduce me to just a couple, ones she thinks I'll get along with.

I think I'll be okay as long as I'm not exhausted. I've never had problems at parties or school dances. Our school dances were always more like raves. Made for an interesting prom, but definitely a memorable one. Never a single slow dance, but I didn't even have a date regardless.

That was always ironic. When word got out about my sexuality, a lot of people believed it meant I had a crush on everyone (I know. Idiotic). Due to that, a lot of people thought I was a whore. The people who didn't think that, or knew what pansexuality actually is, either didn't like girls or just didn't like me. So, of course, I've never dated anyone.

It's okay though because I had the best time with my friends.

♥ ♥ ♥

I pull into a parking spot near the dormitory. I check the keycard I received for my dorm, attached to my keys. Room 212.

I have no idea who my roommate is. Dakota is sharing a dorm with one of her hometown friends, so I couldn't live with her. We're in the same building though, thankfully.

I climb out of my car. It's a black Honda CR-V. It used to be my dad's car, but once he got a promotion he decided to give it to me and get himself a new car. It wasn't actually a new car—he bought a used one—but it was newer than this one.

I pop my trunk open. I have a lot of shit to bring up. There better be an elevator. Dakota is at some Freshman orientation thing that I'm not even going to bother with. She said if I miss anything important she'll let me know. Unfortunately, now, I have no help.

I sigh heavily—a little exaggerated. I pull out my duffel bag and one of my suitcases. I make sure to close the trunk again as I head towards the building. I'd rather not have my other things stolen.

I enter the building, using my keycard to unlock the main door. I see an elevator but am quick to notice the sign reading "OUT OF ORDER DUE TO OVERUSE. Maintenance scheduled for August 26."

It's the 25th today. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The stairs are just to the right, so I begin the hike up. My dorm is on the third story, I quickly discover. The 100s are on the second floor, while the 200s are on the third.

I find my way to 212, sliding my keycard down the electronic lock, it beeps and the small light turns green. I open the door, looking around as I step in.

To my immediate left is a small kitchen, and straight ahead are the beds, one directly across from me on the right side, and the other in the far left corner of the room.

A girl sits on the left bed, putting posters up on the wall. I can see headphones over her ears on top of her dark hair. She's already claimed her half I see...

A black comforter has been placed on her bed, with matching black pillows and a single stuffed animal. A tan, snail-looking thing.

There's a keyboard piano leaning up against the wall. I hope she's actually somewhat decent at playing it.

She has suitcases scattered around the floor, one of which is spilling clothes. I understand that she's just moving in, but it could be less of a mess.

She has a laptop, open but turned off, in the desk on her half of the room. Notebooks and binders scattered on top of it too.

The poster she's hanging is Cavetown. Good to see my roommate has good music taste, though she does not seem very organized.

I shut the door, stepping further and placing my bags down by my own desk. "Hey," I say, slightly louder so she can hear me over her headphones.

She flinches slightly, turning around to face me. She pulls her headphones down around her neck. "Oh. Hi."

"I'm Lucille..."

"Kiara." She says before turning back to face the wall, trying to get the angle perfect on the poster. I watch as she finally pins it to the wall with thumbtacks. Could've used actual poster strips, but I suppose pins work too...

"Did you move in today?" I ask. The atmosphere in here is tense and awkward.

"No. Yesterday." She clarifies, still not turning back to me. I can't tell if she's feeling as awkward as I am or if she's just rude.

"Oh. Well, it'd be great if you had your half be less of a mess." I try to sound somewhat nice when saying this. "I'm a bit of a perfectionist... So..."

She turns back to face me, having finished with the poster. She takes a look down at the floor, the clothes spewing out. She has a few cardboard boxes of various items, one of which is tilted on its side, the contents spilling. It's just some books.

"I'm working on it..." She squints her eyes at me, seeming annoyed at my comment.

"I know. It's just... You could be more considerate."

"None of my shit is on your side. I think you're fine." She says, her voice deep and mildly gruff. She has a point, but I don't want to have to look at all that.

"It's not on my side, but it's an eyesore," I explain. I know I'm being kinda bitchy right now, but it is a shared space.

"Well, princess, like I said—I'm working on it." She says through gritted teeth. She sighs, "I drove from New York, and didn't get here until like 11 last night. I've been up all morning unpacking, so I'm sorry if that's hard for you." She stands, approaching me.

She stands a foot away, looking down at me, her eyes cold. She's only a few inches taller than me, so I'm really not that intimidated.

"Look, I don't really care," I shrug off her explanation and potential attempt at intimidation. "Just clean it before tomorrow."

"And if I don't?" She cocks her head, smirking slightly with her arms crossed as she continues to glare down at me.

I don't have a real response. I was hoping she'd just say "okay" and move on. "Well... I don't know... I'd just appreciate it if all of our dorm was clean and organized."

She nods her head slightly. I'm hoping that it's in agreement. "You know, I can't tell if you have a superiority complex or are just really blunt." She leans forward, her face at my level, a few inches from mine.

I'm not sure what she's trying to do here, but it's quite rude—and an invasion of my personal space. "Uh..." My mind blanks for a moment.

Her eyes scan my face for a moment, then she shrugs, standing up straight again and stepping back. "I'm going to assume it's both."

"Right, well for the record, I do not have a superiority complex, I just don't like messes." I cross my arms.

"Sure, but you were quite rude about letting me know that. And you could've taken my "I'm working on it" as an answer and been patient while I finished up unpacking."

"I wasn't that rude!"

"Is that so?" She asks sarcastically. "Because I seem to remember you calling me an eyesore and—"

"Don't twist my words!" I cut her off. "I said your mess was an eyesore. Not you."

"Babe, I am the mess." She releases a small, exasperated laugh, rolling her amber eyes. "Which means you hate me, doesn't it?"

I can tell she's not actually that hurt by any of what I've said. She's just annoyed that I've said them. However, I would argue that she's being annoying right now. "At this point—a little bit." I admit. "I would have preferred a kinder roommate."

"Not a cleaner one, little miss perfect?" Okay, she's really starting to piss me off. Especially with that stupid smirk she's wearing.

"You can't call me that when you look like the stereotypical goth stoner."

She glances down at her outfit for a split second. She's in torn-up black jeans, a maroon cropped tank top, and an oversized black zip-up. "I'm not even goth, hun. Plus, you can't be talking with your Target kid's section looking ass."

I hate how her insult isn't even that inaccurate. I'm in khaki-colored pants and a white sweater with thin pastel rainbow stripes all across. My bangs are also dyed hot pink. "Okay, well you look like every teen girl in middle school when they were screaming to their mothers that it's not just a phase."

"Wow. You really got me there." She deadpans. "You know, I could kill you." She says abruptly.

I'm a little—no, very—taken aback by this comment. "I'm sorry?"

"I dunno, the thought just crossed my mind."

"W-well I could kill you too if I tried hard enough." I stammer. "I bet nobody would even miss you."

Her eyebrows go up in surprise. "Wow. I think the worst part is that you're right." She looks away as if considering.

I'm regretting my words. Was that too far? I don't think she's upset. Her demeanor doesn't seem to have changed that much, but the look on her face has shifted mildly. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You've just proved to me that you really are a bitch. Good job."

"You said you were gonna kill me first!" I exclaim. Her words have definitely taken a dagger to my ego.

"Yeah because sometimes my thoughts slip out of my mouth, and because you're a little shortie that I could probably pick up and throw out a window very easily. Not because I actually want you dead. Though I am questioning it now..."

I bite my lip. I'm not sure what to say. I can't tell how upset she actually is. Every change in her expression is so small. It's hard to read.

She sighs. "I don't actually care, Karen. I have shit to unpack still. It seems to me that you do too. And I'm sure you want everything in order by the end of the day." She turns back around, gathering the clothes from the floor, folding them again.

"There's another dresser in the closet." She comments, not turning around. "I've put some of my things that need to be hung in there, but you can use the rest of it for your clothes."

Her half of the room has a dresser beside her desk. Mine has my desk and the closet she mentioned right beside it. The door further down the wall is the bathroom.

"Thanks," I mutter.

I leave the dorm. I still have more bags to get from my car. My thoughts are distracting as I walk out to my car. I really hate it when people are mad at me. I hate not being liked. And if Kiara is pissed at me, problems are definitely going to arise. I mean, maybe we'll never talk to each other and we'll ignore each other's existence, but that could cause other problems. Also, I need to talk sometimes, and it's embarrassing to talk to myself if someone else is also in the room.

I suppose I should try to fix this... But not yet. I need to unpack and then I have a party to attend tonight.

I drag my other two bags plus the desk chair (which still needs to be assembled) up to the dorm. When I enter again there is nothing on Kiara's half of the floor except the actual boxes and bags. She's also hung some shelves in the time I was lugging my things up here.

She's loading clothes into her dresser, no longer headphones on her head. She glances at me for a moment when I walk in but then looks away again.

From here I begin to unpack. I open the closet door to find a tower..? There's a pack of water bottles on the ground, 3 rolls of toilet paper stacked on top in a row, followed by an upright empty paper towel roll. Balanced on top of that is a full cup of what I assume is Mountain Dew.

"Kiara, what the fuck is—"

She cuts me off "Oh yeah, that's just my soda. Don't make any sudden movements or you'll knock it over."

I turn back to look at her, cocking an eyebrow. She's smirking. She takes a step closer, then knocks over my IKEA desk chair box. It makes a loud bang, shaking the floor. By the time I realize it's knocked over the cup of Mountain Dew, it's too late.

The entire drink pours out onto the carpet.

"Whoops. My bad, princess."

I glare at her. "What the fuck?"

"You should probably clean that. You're the one who hates messes after all... I gotta go meet a friend... Bye." After saying that, she leaves, still wearing a stupid smirk.

I think what I hate almost as much as her right now is the fact that I am definitely going to clean this.

After that, I will actually unpack, and when she returns we are going to have a conversation.