Page 3 of The Road to Finding Us

“This is it,” he says, already balancing his own boxes so he can reach for the handle.

Good thing he remembered the number, because I sure as hell didn’t.

“Mav!” I hear from inside the room.

My roommate and best friend, Selma, darts across the empty common area at the same time Maverick drops my boxes.

A little hard there, brother. I crouch down to inspect the box, making sure he didn’t break anything inside it, while the two of them embrace.

Selma and Maverick have been dating for years now. While they aren’t as passionate as I envision my first love to be, they love each other nonetheless. A sickeningly amount, if you ask me. I walk around the two of them, my box still in tow, to find our bedroom.

We’ll be sharing a suite with two other girls, ones I’ve never met and hope aren’t totally creepy, but luckily, our bedroom will be just us. There are two twin-size beds pushed up against the wall, and two dressers on the opposite wall. I throw my box down on one of the beds, claiming it as mine.

When I walk back out to the common area, I find Selma and Maverick still in a hushed conversation. I roll my eyes at the two of them. They always seem to be having these very intense conversations that no one else is supposed to hear. Closing the distance to the other side of the living area, I peek into the other room. I’m shocked to find the other two girls haven’t moved in yet.

“Hey, yoohoo, lovebirds,” I say, snapping to get their attention. “Let’s get to work! We’ve got boxes to move, people to see, college boys to meet.”

Selma and Maverick share a look, but they stop their conversation and get moving.

We spend the rest of the morning getting all our things moved into the dorm. After we had lunch delivered, Maverick bailed on us to go move into his own dorm.

It’s now almost five in the evening, and Selma interrupts me from shoving my clothes into dresser drawers.

“Maverick wants to know if we want to go see his dorm and then go check out the dining hall with him and his roommate? He wants to beat the dinner crowd.”

Typical Maverick. Always thinking things through. Being responsible and all. Pish posh. I use my hip to throw my body weight against the drawer to get it closed.

Selma just laughs, shaking her head at me. She likes to call me messy; I say I’m free-spirited. I don’t remind her of how unorganized she can be, trying to be nice and all.

Our two roommates had showed up right when we got back from lunch. They’re also a pair of friends—Daisy and Mallory. They seem cool enough, a bit quiet if you ask me, but I’ll do my best to break them out of their shells.

“Yeah, sure,” I answer once I finally get the drawer closed. I’m not sure what my plan of action will be when I actually need something from that drawer, but for now, my side of the room looks decently clean.

I walk to our dorm bathroom, taking in my appearance. I’ve definitely looked better in my life, but not too shabby for moving all day. My long dark hair is pulled into a ponytail that sits high on my head. A few of my flyaways have broken free, hanging loosely around my face. The mascara I rushed to put on in the car this morning has smeared underneath my eyes a bit, but I don’t have time to try to fix it. All I can do is swipe there, trying to get rid of the black stains. I rifle around in my cosmetic bag and throw on some lip balm before meeting Selma back in the living area.

I had every intention of getting all dressed up the first time I went to the other side of our residence hall—the boys’ side—but I don’t have the luxury of time. Maverick is probably roommates with some dork like him anyway, so it likely won’t even matter.

Selma and I both yell a goodbye at our suitemates before heading to the lobby.

The boys’ and girls’ sides of the residence hall are in two separate parts of the building. You can’t access them by the same elevators or stairs, so first you have to go to the lobby to get to the other side.

The lobby is packed with eighteen-year-olds, excitement written all over their faces as they continue to move into their new freedom. We wait with a pack of cute boys for the elevator on their turf. One of them winks at me, causing my cheeks to flush.

Holy cannoli on a stick. He’s cute.

He and I continue to exchange flirty looks before he steps off with his friends on a floor that is not my brother’s. My lip turns down in a pout. Bummer. I was having fun with him.

I’m too lost thinking of the stranger’s cute face when Selma grabs my hand and pulls me out of the open elevator doors. She pulls me halfway into the hallway before I gather myself and tug my hand free from her.

I must pull a little too hard because my hand does in fact get out of her grasp, but then it continues to fly backward, right into a warm body that must’ve been in the elevator behind me. One I hadn’t even noticed.

“Motherfucker!” a deep voice shouts behind me, and I’m too nervous to look, blood already rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment. I look over at Selma, to her small mouth hanging open, her thick eyebrows raised in shock.

Slowly, soooo very slowly—because hello, eternal embarrassment—I turn to look at the person I’m pretty confident I just nailed right in the kahunas.

I’m met with a strikingly handsome face. A handsome face that twists in pain.

Whoops.

---