It's my first time giving writing a go outside of a schoolhouse, so please let us keep this in mind in the comments. Anyway, all characters are works of fiction and at least 18, unless otherwise mentioned, and any resemblance to any person is merely coincidental. Also, the setting is fictional as well. Let's get on with it, shall we?
OoOoOoO
Some days are weirder than others. Think about it, most days you get up, hopefully shower, brush your teeth, eat something, and get on with whatever it is that life has for you. Most days aren't spent rescuing puppies from super villains or climbing Everest to collect snow because you live in Arizona and just got tired of the heat. No, most days are rather simple and easy. We tend to call these days wastes and not worthy of mention or recollection.
However, every day that I spent is his company was worth ten mountains and I was never much of an animal lover anyway. So, as I look over at him, calmly watching the television as he sips on a glass of scotch, I can't help but wonder how it is that I don't recall ever doing anything major to win his affections or any moment of consequence when I had to fight a vampire lord for his honor. Maybe we are a bit dull. Maybe we are a bit strange. I like to think that it's all a bit perfect.
Before I start to ramble, though, perhaps I should start at the beginning.
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I had just begun my freshman year at Beaverbrook State University and, as was my usual, I was running with the late crowd. OK, it was almost dark, but it was a long drive and I didn't plan on there being a candle store on the way so cut me some slack. So as the moon came up, I began my walk from the housing office to the dorms, dragging two suitcases with a bag full of candles over my left arm. Walter Longfellow Memorial Dormitory. Wow. Whoever came up with the names for some of these places needs to be locked in the broom closet and beat with mop until they come out with something that resembles an imagination.
Digressing, I noticed as I was walking that I was getting a lot of stares. Now, I won't say that I'm a model or anything, but at 5'11 and a toned 170, I wasn't exactly ugly either. Plus, I've always been told that blond hair and blue eyes were major turn ons for most people and yes it's natural.
Nice to see that I won't be lacking a date while I'm up here.
It was about the time that that thought left my foolish brain that I began to hear the snickering.
"Oh, fuck me."
Apparently, in my haste I had left one of my SpongeBob boxer briefs hanging from my suitcase. Well, I never was good at making first impressions anyway. I could feel the blush rising up as I stuffed the rebellious yellow bastard back into its home.
Stupid fucking idiot you are Bambi, fucking stupid!
At least it was dark and not too many people were able to see that. No doubt I'd have a new nickname by midnight if they did. I eyed some tall redhead that looked nice enough and figured that I'd better ask directions off of somebody. Why not him?
"Hey, you, yeah, you with the blue shirt, do you know where the Longfellow Dorm is?" I asked while waving the candles at him.
"Yeah, right behind you."
This came with him smiling and him pointing at an eight story building directly behind me, complete with most of the windows glowing from their residents who were actually on time.
"Shit. Thanks for that man. I just got in and this map has a little coffee on it."
"No problem, just don't get lost from here to there".
And with that, he smiled and kept on walking.
Fuck that thing is tall and I don't exactly see an elevator. What room was I in again?
Taking out the crumbled piece of paper that the secretary from housing had written on I managed to read, despite some rather poor handwriting:
Luke Gladstone Chambers: Walter Longfellow. Floor 8. Room 12.
It fucking would, wouldn't it, and I still have a few boxes back in the car. As I trudged up eight floors of stairs I started to wonder what my roommate would be like. Lord knows that if he's a pain in the ass that I'd better find a way to get him to leave and not me. I don't want to be moving my shit down this behemoth more than I absolutely have to.
Topping the last set of steps felt like winning the Nobel Peace Prize for mediocrity. Starting down the hall I really began to get excited about meeting the person whom I'd be spending the next year with.
Room 9, room 10, what the fuck happened to the door on room 11, and at long last, room 12. Thank you God! Fumbling for my keys turned into a yoga session as I tried to not drop the candles or let go of my suitcases. Finally, I found them and opened the door with a great deal of nervousness. What if he's already asleep and gets pissed that I'm coming in this late. Classes don't start for another week from this Monday and he'd probably think I wasn't coming in until the next week, even though most people had come early for some weird welcoming concert they had planned for this weekend.
Stepping through the door I was greeted with the sight of organization personified. He had apparently chose the side of the room next to the windows with an angular ceiling, since we were on the top floor, and to say that he liked to have things in their just place may be the biggest understatement ever made.
A quick glance showed two medium sized bookcases on either side of his desk, which was positioned next to the one of the windows, and they were loaded down with books. His desk had a fairly new laptop placed in its center with a jar full of pens on one side of the laptop and another jar full of what appeared to be toothpicks and assorted candy on the other. Again this was all as neat as could be and seemed like they were placed with care.
He had placed a small rectangular rug on the floor extending from the foot of his bed to, about four feet from the TV positioned on the wall. Beaverbrook may have skimped on an elevator but the rooms and facilities were nicely furnished, each having two desks, two beds, two closets, and even an in suite bathroom for each room. It's one of the reasons that I chose to attend here and not elsewhere.
Then my eyes took in the man who, at the time, seemed quite the picture of your typical bookworm. He was sitting with his back against the wall on the bed with a duvet covering him from the abs down, reading a book and didn't seem as if he had noticed my arrival.
Being as how he hadn't noticed me, I figured that I'd take the time to notice him. He had uncombed, rumpled dark brown hair which was strewn about his face and shoulder length in the back and was covering a good portion of the pillow behind his head. His jaw was angular and sharp, and upon it was a dark five o clock shadow. His chin had a cleft just below his slight, crisp lips and his nose was what you might call roman with a slight upturn at the end. Upon said nose was a small pair of wire frames that appeared to be reading glasses and not what I would picture as someone's constant eyewear.
His eyes, or at least what I could see of them through his hair, were focused on his book and yet, still had a carefree and casual look about them. He had on a loose dark green sweater and I couldn't see below, but the duvet looked handmade and was different shades of purple and blue. All in all, he looked rather good to me, but wasn't what I'd call sexiest man alive, nor did he have anyone physical trait that I could see so far that made him stand out.
"You going to stand there staring or would you like help with your things?"
That made me jump a little. His voice was deep, but not like from the bowels of hell deep. Also, there was a soft southern accent in there as well, which was rather strange to hear in Vermont. The kind of voice that made me shiver and not from the usual New England cold.
"Uh, sorry. Kind of zoned out there for a minute. Luke Gladstone Chambers, nice to meet you."
The hair fell out of his face for a moment as he tilted his head to the left. He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly.
"Gladstone?"
Holy flying, fucking, bat nuts. His eyes were hazel and seemed to be very expressive, as amusement seemed to make them sparkle and suddenly his entire face seemed to come into a new being.
"Luke, either you have ADD or a slight hearing problem. Either way, just let me know when you'd like to pick this conversation back up."
"Sorry, sorry, I don't know why I keep drifting off like that."
Sure I didn't.
"As long as you don't do that while driving, I think we'll be alright. John Wayne Anderson and yes my old man had a sense of humour not to be taken lightly. You can call me Duke or Jack, which ever you prefer."
