FRESHERS - SIX WEEKS LATER
I wake in the middle of the night completely baffled as to where the hell I am. It takes a while for me to get my bearings. Until finally, I register I'm in my dorm.
Bleary eyed, I look around the room.
I'm curled on my bed with the latest book I'm reading by my head, the light still on. Dread fills me. My first proper night at uni and I've wasted it alone. What a loser.
Then I realise what woke me.
Someone is trying to break in.
The insistent ratting of the handle is loud. It's intermittent. When it stops again, I let out the air I'm holding and stare at the knob. Maybe I imagined it? Maybe I dreamt it?
Gaze locked, I wait for it to move again. When it doesn't, I assume it wasn't real or it was just a drunken Fresher who has forgotten what room is theirs.
Satisfied there's a simple enough answer, I decide I should probably turn the light out and get a decent night's sleep. I can try and make friends tomorrow, I guess.
The moment I reach across to my desk to my lamp there's a thump on the door, like someone is barging it with their shoulder. It's so loud it makes me jump.
Someone is definitely trying to get in.
I'm frozen in fear, too scared to even breathe. My brain is blank. I've always thought I'd be someone who is good in a crisis... Clearly fucking not.
A muffled voice on the other side of the door says something and then the handle starts jiggling again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Thousands of students in this uni, hundreds in halls, and it just has to be me who is going to be murdered or robbed, or whatever, on the first day.
I don't move from the bed. I'm not entirely sure what I can do. If I call the police the robber will hear me which might make them speed up. There's nowhere to escape. I'm six floors up and the window doesn't fully open (besides, I don't have a great track record with windows).
I'm a caged animal with a possible hunter on the other side of the door.
I can squeeze myself into the wardrobe but surely that will be the first place they look? It's the only noteworthy place to hide. The second option is under the bed, but I've seen enough horror films of people being dragged out by their feet. I don't even want to risk it.
I'm out of options, really.
I can either sit and hope they go away, sit and wait for them to succeed, or face them head on.
I don't like the sound of any of them, but the waiting for them to go away seems to be my best bet.
I hear a second voice from the other side of the door as if there's a conversation going on. I gently pluck my phone from the table, clicking it on. It's only seven-thirty p.m, hardly the best time for a murder to take place (not that there's ever a good time, but the middle of the night seems a better fit).
Halls must be pretty busy. Busy enough they wouldn't get away with it.
Heart practically in my mouth, I stand.
It could be worse, they could have already broken in. They could have been extremely smooth and done it without waking me. They could have done it at a time no one would be awake, so any calls for help would be ignored.
But they didn't.
I arm myself with my umbrella and stand poised, ready to attack. I've never even been in a fight before but I'm ready to go gun-ho to survive.
I briefly wonder if I should return to being a sitting duck. But then I realise I have the element of surprise on my side. Maybe I can scare them enough I can slip past them. Maybe I-
My phone starts ringing.
Loud as anything. Clear as day. My phone never rings. No one ever calls me except my mum and Lauren.
My mum left not long ago and Lauren already spoke to me tonight. But of course it rings now. Of course, like the batman signal, it lets the people outside know there is someone in here.
I press the reject button but it's too late. They will have heard it.
My whole body goes rigid, my breathing shallow, my eyes close, like my brain is trying to protect me from the absolute mess of a situation.
"Is there someone in there?" A voice calls from the other side. Male. Of course. "Hello?"
I stand still. Maybe if I don't move or breathe, I can trick them into believing they imagined it.
Several texts come through, one after the other. Ping, ping, ping. I don't know what I did in my last life but the universe sure has been getting me back in this one.
"HELLO?" The person shouts. "WE CAN HEAR YOUR PHONE, YOU KNOW? ARE YOU OKAY?"
Am I okay? What kind of murderer is he? Why would he care how I am? And what kind of stupid question? Of course I'm not, he's trying to stampede his way into my room!
He presses on, "YOU REALISE YOU ARE BREATHING LIKE A PIG IN MATING SEASON? I CAN QUITE LITERALLY HEAR YOU."
Dread fills me.
Cold hard dread.
It's Him.
This absolutely should not be happening.
He says, "Seriously, you sound like you've run a marathon. Are you okay?"
Which only confirms that this actually is happening. It is Him. The Guy. The one I think about most days. He is here. He's breaking in. He just referred to me as a pig once again!
Then something like ferocious courage surges through me and I march towards the door, swinging it open.
"You know," I start before the door is even fully ajar. I am absolutely gleeful and furious at the same time. "I've only ever been referred to a pig three times in my life and each time it's been by you."
There he is. Glorious. Beautiful. Tall, broad, strong looking. God, he's so hot. And he's stood, gobsmacked, jaw-slacked, clearly in shock. Because of me.
"I- wha-" He's flustered. He takes me in, his eyes looking down the length of my body then back to my face. Finally, he settles with a simple, "You!"
"Yes! Me!" I say, feeling triumphant.
He regains composure, his eyes narrowing. "It would be you."
I throw my hands up, "What would be me?"
"It's battle of the halls in twenty minutes."
I blink. "Sorry?"
He talks slowly, like I'm an idiot. "Twenty minutes. Battle of the halls. Everyone is coming. Drinks. Socialising. Freshers things. We've been checking who wants to come and this is the only room we didn't hear back from."
"So you decided to break in?"
He shrugs. "What if you were dead?"
I fold my arms to my chest, smirking. "Are you usually so dramatic?"
There's a beat as something passes between us then we both laugh. He hasn't forgotten. He remembers saying those words to me six weeks ago. A sort of thrill runs through me.
He hasn't forgotten.
"Well?" He asks.
"Well what?"
"Are you coming?"
I look down at my outfit, leggings and a crop top. "Can I get changed?"
He nods, "You don't need to. You look great, but you can."
"Thanks." I say, feeling all soft. "But I'd like to."
There's a pause where neither of us move, we just sort of look at each other. Well, I sort of feast on him. It's like I've been starved and now the finest of food has been dished up to me.
"Go on then." He says. "I'll wait."
"Ten mins, tops."
"No worries."
I turn and let the door close. Quickly fishing out my favourite black dress. I whip into it, then brush out my long brown hair and apply some lip gloss.
Do you know what no one talks about enough? What an absolute lifesaver lashes done by lash techs are. Not seven minutes later, I am ready.
I rush to the door and take a deep breath before I open it, trying to calm myself. I'm giddy. I already feel drunk. Then I get nervous, what if he hasn't waited? What if he's naturally flirty with everyone?
What if-
I shake myself. I can only find out if I put myself out there.
I am very, very pleased when I open the door and see him leaning against the wall, reading a book.