Page 1 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

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margot

“If he doesn’t knock it off, I’m going to kill him.” I glare at the tiled ceiling of my new dorm room as I lie in bed, fighting the urge to check the time again. It’s late—a lot later than I care to be awake before the first day of classes. The newly constructed building still smells like fresh paint, and I can vaguely make out my tapestry on the wall next to me. The burnt oranges and yellows of the boho-style sun look gray in the dark against the cool white walls.

I came to the University of South Florida to study journalism, not to be kept up all night. My eyes dart across the room to my best friend, Rae. There’s no way she’s asleep—she can’t be. I followed her all the way here from Indiana, but right now, I’m wondering if that was a colossal mistake. It’s not her fault. She didn’t pick our neighbors, but she was definitely the ring leader behind this operation. She chose the college and dorm. All I had to do was break up with my boyfriend, pick a major, and tag along.

I thought being hundreds of miles from home would erase the crushing disappointment my parents were radiating before I left, but it’s still there, smothering me like a wet blanket. To them, I might as well be a walking hazard. Not only do I disappoint them by wanting to be a reporter instead of a lawyer, but I also broke my poor high school boyfriend’s heart.

If I’m being honest, I had wanted to break things off for a while. But he was so perfect in everyone else’s eyes, and I just couldn’t do it. Going to a college far, far away was the perfect excuse to cut ties. It felt less like I was dumping him and more like I was making the best decision for both of us. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll always be the villain of that story. Sometimes I think my parents preferred him over me. He’s the son of their closest friends. The tangled webs we weave. We were supposed to be the high school sweethearts who ended up together because that’s what would have made them happy.

It’s suffocating.

So, I came to Florida, where I know no one except Rae. We’ll take on freshman year together, and we have it all planned out.

But none of my planning prepared me for my neighbors across the hall. We haven’t met yet, but I’ve heard them. I’ve been here for a matter of days and already feel like I know so much about them—their voices, their laughs, their terrible taste in music. It’s two guys, and I doubt they just met. I’d usually think it’s great they knew each other before coming to college. I’m happy to live with my best friend, but I’m starting to wish they were awkward, quiet strangers.

Awkward, quiet strangers who don’t play guitar.

It’s not relaxing Beatles covers either—I might even enjoy that. The music coming from their dorm is anything but soothing. Even without an amp, the rock music somehow rattles through their four walls, forcing its way under the crack of our door and grating the inside of my ears.

There’s no curated playlist. He plays the same song for what feels like hours—over, and over, and over again—until he decides to switch it up, playing an equally obnoxious song for just as long.

I roll over to check the time on my phone again, it’s blinding light a beacon in the dark. Groaning, I see another hour of sleep has been stolen from me.

It’s almost 2:00 a.m. I let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Margot, I know what you’re thinking, but don’t do it,” Rae says from her twin-sized bed on the other side of the room. It’s dark, but I can vaguely make out her blonde hair splayed over her pillowcase.

I don’t want to. No one wants to be that person, but this is ridiculous. “I have to.”

She turns her head toward me. “We’re going to live across from them for a year. It will just make things weird.”

He switches songs, playing harder than he was a minute ago, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound. “Tell that to Bon Jovi!”

The dorm has quiet hours after ten—the least he can do is hang it up until tomorrow. He’s played for the past three nights, and I didn’t let it bother me. We’re all new to college, and if homeboy wants to stay up all night pretending he’s a rockstar, so be it.

But today is Sunday. Classes start tomorrow, and mine start early. I can’t lie here listening to this guy’s amateur jam sesh all night.

Rae sighs before fully turning to face me in the dark. “He has classes tomorrow, too. I’m sure he’ll go to sleep soon.”

As if her words are magic, the racket stops. We both freeze, afraid one false move might ruin what just happened.

I hold my breath, hoping—praying—this guy calls it a night.

One.

Two.

The strumming starts again, and I throw the covers off with an aggravated huff.

“Margot!” Rae whisper-yells. “What are you doing?”

I shake my head. “I can’t believe this guy.”

Rae groans in a feeble attempt to stop me, but she doesn’t sit up. Instead, she pulls the blanket up and over her head.

Padding across our tiny room, I look back at her on my way out. “We need to sleep!”

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