Page 9 of Devilry

“Of course,” I supply, playing into the charade. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Your father sends his love too.”

I try to muffle my snort at her lie, baffled by why she thinks I would believe he would willing send any positive thoughts my way. I couldn’t tell you the last time my father said more than two words to me, and none of them had, or would ever be, him expressing his love. “Thanks for calling, Mom, but I’m going to try and get an extra hour of sleep in, okay?”

“Of course, honey,” she coos. “Be sure to call if you need anything.”

Highly unlikely. “Promise.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I quickly check my alarm is still set to go off in an hour and a half, before placing it back on the nightstand. Dragging the blanket over my head, I push my mom’s farce of a call to the back of my mind and pray that I can fall back asleep.

I arrived at college a little earlier than most students; a combination of wanting to leave home as soon as possible, and wanting to make myself comfortable and familiar in my new surroundings before classes started.

Coming to King University has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I worked my fucking ass off to get accepted here, and despite the nervousness, I’m excited. Not only is it far enough from Kent County, Texas that I’ll only have to see my family twice a year, but it offers the most prestigious History degree in the country.

With each department only offering a ridiculously low number of scholarships per year, the competition was huge, but when there’s nothing else worth your attention in your shitty shanty town, you lock yourself in a room and plan your exit strategy.

A door slamming immediately sets me on high alert, reducing any chance I have of falling back to sleep. Other than my roommate, there isn’t really anybody else it could be, but seeing as his room has been set up since before I arrived, I can’t help but be curious as to where he’s been all week.

Clearly not caring about how much noise he’s making, I take it as my cue to head into the common area and pretend his ruckus is what’s woken me up. Now seems as good a time as any for introductions.

The shared space is bigger than I had anticipated before arriving. With not only functional kitchen facilities, but room enough for a couch, a decent sized rug, and a coffee table, it’s pretty much a miniature two-bedroom apartment. I don’t know how I got assigned to what feels like the penthouse of dorms, but I’m not complaining.

Dressed in my sweats and a black t-shirt, I stand in my doorway and come face-to-face with two people. One is, I’m assuming to be, my very unsteady, and possibly drunk, roommate. And the other is a petite framed girl, trying to hold him up.

Standing inches away from the couch, he awkwardly tries to take his socks and shoes off while maintaining his hold on the girl.

“Just sit down,” she huffs. “I’ll get them for you.” Whatever it is impeding his coordination wins out and he ends up stumbling onto the solid piece of furniture, taking her with him.

“Shit,” I call out. “Are you two okay?”

Surprised by my presence, the girl quickly jumps off him, bumping into the nearby coffee table. Swiping her hair off her face, she looks up at me with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry. Did we wake you?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “I just wanted to make sure nobody was hurt.”

Completely oblivious to his surroundings, my roommate tilts his head up and looksbetween me and his friend. “Who are you?”

“Eli,” I say flatly.

“Nice to meet you, Eli,” he garbles. “Can I sleep on your couch?”

I don’t bother to argue or even question if he knows where he is. Iinstead, I watch his friend head for his room and grab the duvet spread across his bed. In the few seconds it takes for her to return he’s already asleep. Gently, she places the blanket over his body before looking back up at me.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “I didn’t want Aiden walking home alone.”

“No worries.” I wait for her to offer up any information on where he’s been or why he’s so drunk, but she doesn’t. Nor does she offer me her name. Turning back to Aiden, she fusses over the blanket, and I take that as a sign to leave them alone. I tip my head back to my room and she nods.Weird.

Checking the time, I see I still have an hour before I need to start getting ready for school. Instead of hanging around feeling trapped by the four walls of my room, while whatever goes on outside continues, I change into my running shorts, find my sneakers, and decide to brave the outdoors.

Securing the Velcro on my armband, I slip my phone inside the protected pouch and put my wireless earphones into my ears. Walking out to the lounge room, I’m surprised to now see two sleeping bodies on the couch. Careful not to wake anyone up, I slip outside with ease and head through the emergency exit, instead of waiting for the elevator. Walking down six flights of stairs is the perfect warm-up.

The crisp, early morning breeze soothes my already clammy skin as I exit the building. The student residences at King are a circular formation of apartment buildings with an oversized courtyard in the middle. Each entryway opens out on to the housing area’s main attraction: a cute boutique-like café. King Koffee is situated like an oasis in the desert for all the tired, hungover, and overworked students that make up King’s population.

With its usual overpowering smell of coffee beans wafting through the air, I’m surprised to see it in its sleepy stages of setting up. As I survey my surroundings, looking for the best running route, I realize six o’clock in the morning on campus might just be my favorite time of the day. With not a single body in sight, I inhale the fresh, cool air and indulge in the serenity of not just a brand-new day, but the promise of a new school year. The change in seasons. The potential of a new me.

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