Page 8 of I Hear You

Suddenly, I feel a little self-conscious about having so few things.

“Um, no, this is it. Wanted to travel light since it was so far,” I lie.

“Totally get it! I moved around a ton when I was younger, it wasn’t until I moved here, and we knew we wouldn’t have to keep moving, that I finally started feeling like I could collect things. Didn’t have to worry about having to fit my stuff into only a few boxes anymore, ya know?”

Man, this girl can talk, but it’s oddly refreshing to have so much friendly chatter. I’ve spent so much time alone the past few years that I think I’ll enjoy having a roommate. Having someone constant in my life. I hope her eagerness to get along and be friends is genuine.

“So, what’s your major? Mine’s psychology. I think I want to be a counselor of some sort but haven’t fully decided. That’s what the next four years are for right, figuring out who we want to be? That and having a lot of fun. I mean, I can only have as much fun as someone who's basically married can have–” She laughs.

I raise my eyebrows at her in curiosity. “Married?”

“That’s what our friends joke, at least. I met my boyfriend the first week after I moved here, and we’ve basically been inseparable since. I promise, we still know how to have fun. You’ll probably get to meet him soon. He was planning on stopping by.”

I’m liking this girl more and more as she continues talking. She makes me feel calm, which is strange. Her energy is a lot more intense than I’m used to. Plus, she’s pocket-sized with a smile that’s practically permanent, which makes her even easier to adore.

“My major is English. Writing is pretty much the only thing I’ve ever loved. Well, almost the only thing.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t press me to explain what I mean. Something starts chirping in her pocket, and she pulls out her cell phone and answers it with a smile.

“Hey babe.”

Must be her boyfriend on the phone. I don’t want to look like I’m eavesdropping, so I continue arranging the sheets and comforter on my bed. In our small dorm room, I can’t help but hear her side of the conversation.

“Oh yay, perfect! We’ll meet you there at eight then, and don’t worry about coming over to help me unpack, I’m actually almost done. I was too excited, so I got an early start.”

Taylor’s silent, but she has her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she breaks down some of the empty boxes.

“Yes, ‘we’, my new roomie, remember! She’s new in town, so I doubt she knows anyone else to hang out with tonight, and I think you guys are gonna love her!”

My ears prick as I wonder what plans my new roommate is volunteering me for and how I’m going to get out of them. How am I supposed to say no to a girl like her? She’s all bubble gum and rainbows and with a smile that bright, I have a feeling her sad and disappointed faces are debilitating.

The phone she was talking on gets set on her desk and she turns her attention back to me as I’m climbing down from my bed.

“So, some friends and I are meeting up at the barn to celebrate before classes start Monday and you’re coming with!”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“The barn?” I ask, curious but cautious.

I knew having a roommate would mean I would have to dodge a few invites to parties when my social battery was low. I’m not sure this was an invitation. It sounded more like a demand, but in the sweetest way possible. I want to make friends and I can already tell I want to be Taylor’s friend, but today was already such a long day.

“Yea, our friend Emmett’s dad, is like the richest man in Easton. He owns this barn just a few miles away. We’ve been using it as a hangout for a while. I guess Emmett's dad figures it keeps us from trying to get into the bars and it’s got a finished loft bedroom, so Emmett usually crashes there half the time. It will be fun but low key, I promise. You have to come!”

I don’t want to piss her off on the first day, but I don’t feel up to a party and definitely not one that sounds like it will only be a few people. I can’t blend in with a small party of close friends. They for sure would ask me a ton of questions, and I haven’t decided how to answer all the typical new girl questions. There’s been a war going on in my mind for weeks now. Trying to debate what information I share with the people I meet here and what information I keep buried deep down inside me forever.

“Ya know, I really want to get settled in and it was such a long day today. But I promise I’ll come to the next one.”

Taylor has a pouty look but concedes.

“Alright, I understand, but you’ll love my friends, so you definitely need to meet them soon. I know they’ll love you too!”

Taylor unpacks for a little while longer. I excuse myself to go to the bookstore before it closes. It’s almost sunset but the heat and humidity are still lingering. Thank God our dorm rooms have air conditioning.

I make my way across the campus courtyard toward the bookstore. The campus isn’t too big, but the courtyard is beautiful. There are tons of open grass areas and lots of big white oak trees. They give the perfect shady areas that I can’t wait to spend afternoons under–writing and studying when the weather gets nicer.

When I find the library, I almost gasp. It’s a beautiful two-story brick building with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the perfect amount of the evening sun. There are big tables for studying and rows of computers on the first floor. The second floor, open and visible from the first, has small lounge sets tucked into the rows and rows of books. They look as if they'd make the perfect little reading nooks to curl up in. I inhale deeply, sighing at the comforting scent of the books. I’m tempted to drop into one of the plush brown leather chairs and start writing, but I know the place closes soon and I still need to find a few books for my classes.

Luckily, the books I need are all available in the re-sell section, so I grab them and head up to the register. What I assume is a student is behind the desk, a large circular area in the middle of the first floor. I place my stack of books on the counter and smile at him. The name tag on his shirt says Adam. He’s tall but not as tall as Henry, with dirty blonde hair, deep blue eyes like the Pacific Ocean and a clean-shaven face. Cute, I think to myself, but ordinary. I’m not sure why I’m even comparing him to Henry or why I can’t seem to get Henry out of my thoughts.

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