escape//h.s

colleges and clichés

"Are you kidding me? I thought I said no colors!" Rachael, my as-of-today roommate, yells at me first thing as I step over the threshold and into our new, shared dorm room. 

I had been carrying my pillow in my hands, seeing as I slept most of the way here, when she spotted a tinge of light pink where my name had been sewn into the soft fabric by my late grandmother when I was eight and she was on her deathbed. But no matter the meaning, and no matter the sentiment, it ruined her black and white color scheme, so it had to go.

"Look, I'll buy you a replacement, just make sure it's out of this room before I start to have people over, 'kay?" She doesn't wait for an answer as she struts out of the door with a loud slam and I'm left alone with three large duffel bags and one horribly rejected pillow.

* * *

After unpacking and organizing my side of the room, I decide to go out and explore the campus that is my new home for the next four years. Yep. Because I'd always wanted to go to college in the same state I'd already spent the entirety of my other eighteen years. I roll my eyes at myself for making shit grades in high school. But hey, at least its not the same town, and thank god, not the same reputation.

I briskly walk across the lawn, noting the definite groups and cliques separating each fresh face that comes into view, and look for any potential friends. I'd never been the outgoing type, but I was willing to give it a try if it meant not being so alone in place where I'd never felt more lonely before in my life.

A passerby's outfit gave a lot of clues as to what "group" that certain person would be in. Boys who wore basketball shorts and muscle tees were considered jocks, while girls similarly dressed would be called sporty. And so on.

At the moment, I was wearing my usual black skinny jeans, boyfriend tee, and high top converse. Based on what they knew, I'd probably be considered emo or goth, but I'd never been one to fit into just one category, I was always overflowing into at least two or three. It was just dependent on my mood and or phase at the time. But now, I see I'd rather be a loner and social outcast than conform to society's standards.

I stop and admire a hot group of guys before moving on when one of them caught me staring. They'd probably be considered the frat boys, but I knew archetypes weren't skin deep. 

I kept walking.

I walked until I came across a small bookstore that looked a bit worn down, and to be honest, creepy, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I went in as a bell above the door warned anyone inside of my arrival.

"W-Welcome to Black Orchid, is there anything I can help you find?" I try and look for the source of the voice but all I can see from floor to ceiling is shelves upon selves of dusty books. It sounded like it came from my right, so I study that side first but don't see anyone.

As I'm looking around in confusion the voice speaks up again, "Over here."

I turn to my immediate left and there, surrounded by a tall tower of books, I see a boy smiling at me with the cutest dimples I've ever seen.

I flush and self consciously run a hand through my hair as I reply, "Oh, I didn't see you there."

He steps closer, coming out of the shadows, his exquisite beauty taking me by surprise. He had curls that were dying to be pulled on and a face that had to be carved by god's very own hands. I didn't know that boys could be so pretty, and this one was much prettier than I could ever hope to be.

"Have you been here b-before?" He questions and his brilliant green eyes make contact with my brown ones and I swear in that moment my entire world stopped.