The curtains on the window of our one-bedroom apartment were left a skewed. The sun poured in and blanketed us with warmth. Our naked bodies were entangled along with sheets and blankets. Everything about this moment was perfect. I trailed light kisses up her back, taking extra caution on the nape of her neck, my favorite place of all. I snuggled closer and breathed in her scent, something so indescribable, but so intoxicating. It was the smell of soft lavender and her shampoo. It was the smell of home.
I whispered softly, "I love you." She craned her head towards me and kissed me with the utmost passion. Then that's when I remembered; things weren't always this blissful.
It started about six years ago. I was starting as a freshman at NYU. I left my home, my family, my friends, and left everything that I knew to come here. I realized at a certain age that even if I didn't come from a broken home, I felt suffocated in the small town of Cement City, Michigan. Truth was, I loved architect, and I promise you, Cement City was not the place to be for thriving, young architects.
So my first day at NYU was a disaster. I was lugging around 5 ton books, walking around like a lost puppy. My laptop bag decided to keep slipping off my shoulder, rendering me unaware of the people I was running into. I managed to bump into someone and knock the books out of her hands. I quickly knelt down and picked them, and when I looked up, everything I knew about beauty turned into a complete lie. It was like a blind-man seeing for the first time. Her dark, brown hair was parted down one side and draped over her shoulders like silk. Her eyes were a glimmering sapphire, like the deepest parts of the ocean. Her nose was cute and sloped down as to compliment her full lips. She was petite, but not fragile looking. Her breasts were the perfect size, not small, but not annoyingly gigantic to the point where they would get in the way. I stopped staring and finally started talking.
"I-I'm really s-sorry. I'm, uhm, I'm Andrew," I stammered as I reached my hand out.
In the most aggravated tone, "Well Andrew, watch where you're going next time."
And as she walked away, I couldn't help but notice the round and firmness of her butt with each stride she took. So much for a first impression, way to go me!
For the rest of the day, I stayed in my dorm room and started unpacking. The room was quite spacious and had a very nice view of New York. It was the perfect scenery to inspire a few drafts. Hayden Hall was quite accommodating; there was a cafeteria, a lounge, and a wash room. I haven't met my roommate yet, but get this, his name is Hayden. I finished putting away my clothes and fitted clean, white sheets onto my twin sized bed. I plopped down next to the window and took out my sketch pad. The city was buzzing; yellow cabs filled the streets, honking as they went. A sea of people were walking and chattering on their phones as they try to reach their destinations. Tall buildings were towering over the streets, casting a shadow and an endless shade of protection. I drew rough drafts of 19th old century buildings. It was so close to detail; every line, every curve, it was flawless. The door opened and popped my concentration. A dirty-blonde haired guy came in carrying two duffel bags. He was about average height, a little scrawny, but you can tell he was built. He put his bags down and I immediately got up to introduce myself.
"Hayden, right? I'm Andrew. Guess we're roommates, eh?"
"Hey, nice to meet you," he shook my hand, "Haha, looks like it. What's your major?"
"Architecture, how about you?"
"English lit," his eyes brightened, "I love writing! My name's gonna be plastered all over the New York Times man, watch me haha."
With that, I left him to unpack. He seemed friendly, and I thought we'd get along well. I returned to my bed and ripped out my sketch. I crumpled it up and threw it away, unsatisfied with it and unsatisfied with myself. Hayden seemed sure of himself. He knew what he was doing here, but for me, I felt like a little fish in an ocean. Was I doing the right thing?
"Hey Andrew, you wanna go get a bite to eat downstairs? I'm starving."
"Yeah sure, I'll meet you down there. I just uhm...gotta put away some books of mine."
He walked out and I stared long and hard at the door after he closed it. At home, I never really had many friends. I mean I had friends, but since it was such a small city, we all knew each other since diapers. They were boring and mediocre and it was the same thing over and over. Movies, baseball, or hanging around places we weren't supposed to be. We couldn't even get in trouble much. It was an uneventful city with uneventful people, but I knew this would be different. Maybe finally, I'll hang around people more worth my while.
I quickly hurried down the stairs, careful not to trip and fall and break my face. The cafeteria was large, but with so many people there, it felt claustrophobic. I grabbed an apple and a soda; I didn't have much of an appetite. I scanned around the room for the messy mop of blonde hair, and saw him waving me over.
"HEY ANDREW, OVER HERE MAN!" He was sitting with a group of people already. Nervously, I walked towards him and sat down at an empty chair. He introduced me to each of them.
"Andrew, this is Alex," he pointed towards a tanned, dark-haired boy, "Chico," a rather large Hispanic boy, "Kristina," a girl with wavy blonde hair, "And this is Joanna," it was the same girl I ran into. My mouth dropped open, I was clearly in shock.
"Ugh, not you again," she nodded in disgust towards my direction.
Hayden lifted his eyebrow up, "You two met already?"
"More like he ran into me this morning. He wasn't even looking at where he was going!"
I bowed my head down in horror. I was right; I'm not ready for this. What was I thinking?
