Chapter 7
LAUREN'S POV
As we stepped into the dormitory room, the atmosphere shifted from the scrutinizing glances of the hallways to the curious chatter of our new roommates. My attention unintentionally drifted to the Quadrangle, where two intriguing figures engaged in conversation beneath a tree. One of them, the leftmost, caught my eye with his long eyelashes, prominent nose, and inviting lips. My thoughts spiraled, and I found myself shaking off the mesmerizing gaze.
"Focus, Lauren," I mumbled to myself as we approached the stairs. Lost in contemplation, I barely noticed our arrival at the second floor of the girl's dormitory, Room 73.
The assistant knocked on the door, and two girls greeted us. The atmosphere inside was a mix of tension and curiosity, with the roommates seemingly caught in the midst of a conversation or perhaps a disagreement.
"Hi, I'm Roxie Vivian Smith, and you can call me Roxie. I'm full Filipino. This is Yushima Lorene Takiyama, or Meshie, she's half Japanese and half Filipino, but she mostly speaks Tagalog. You guys seem familiar. What are your names?" Roxie introduced herself enthusiastically.
"I'm Lauren Mariss Santiago, just call me Lauren. I'm half Filipino and half American. This is my best friend, Denise Allison Cruz, or Denise or Alli, she's full Filipino too. And you're familiar to me too, Roxie. Were we classmates in elementary?" I questioned, attempting to unravel the connection.
"Elementary classmates? Really?" Roxie's eyes widened in surprise.
Meshie intervened, "Come on, Lauren and Denise, leave Roxie for a while. I'll show you to your side of the room."
Meshie, seemingly unfazed by Roxie's theatrics, led Denise and me to our respective beds. "Feel free to make yourselves at home."
Following Meshie, we left Roxie behind, her protests fading as we moved away.
Denise and I exchanged amused glances, relieved to find some familiarity in the midst of the unexpected. As Meshie left us to settle in, Roxie, still pouting on the sofa, muttered something about Meshie being the antagonist in her life story.
As we entered the room, Meshie pointed to two sides—right and left. Denise and I exchanged glances, silently agreeing to make separate choices. The room had a distinct right-and-left layout, and we had the freedom to decide where we would settle.
"Lauren, you take the right. I'm in the left," Denise declared, entering her chosen side.
Left alone in the hallway, I hesitated for a moment before stepping into my designated space. The room itself had a quaint charm, adorned with mismatched posters and a collection of novels that hinted at Meshie's love for literature.
As we unpacked, the room buzzed with the energy of new beginnings and the promise of lifelong friendships. Roxie's occasional outbursts provided a comedic backdrop to our attempts at organization, making the atmosphere surprisingly light-hearted.
Soon after, Meshie returned, offering a truce of sorts. "Okay, let's put the drama aside for now. We're roommates, after all. Rules are simple: respect each other's space, no loud music after 10 PM, and absolutely no stealing snacks without permission," she declared with a playful smirk.
Laughter echoed in the room as we agreed to the terms. Roxie, still nursing her fictional wounds, joined the negotiation, and we found ourselves bonding over the quirks that made each of us unique.
As the day unfolded, our room transformed into a haven of shared stories, laughter, and the occasional clash of personalities. Little did we know that this room, with its mismatched posters and contrasting characters, would be witness to the highs and lows of this journey.