"Don't go bungee-jumping." Jordan is saying.
Kerry is in the middle of us, her arms over our shoulders as we carry her back to halls. She's so drunk she can barely hold her head up. We're half carrying, half dragging her.
"The chord would snap." He says, throwing me a glance over Kerry's head. "Or sky diving - the parachute would fail. Or skiing - you'd slide right off a mountain. Don't go near any kind of inactive volcano - it would erupt because you're there. You should probably think about just not leaving the house. At all. Ever."
"Oh my God." Kerry moans. "I've been poisoned."
"This is what Freshers is about." Jordan says to her. "Destroying your liver and making friends."
"Aw," she coos. "You think I made friends?"
"Only friends would drag you back to your dorm." He pauses and his breath is laboured from the weight of her. "Seriously, do you know how use your legs?"
"I am walking." She slurs, even though she absolutely is not putting one foot in front of the other, which is the essence of walking. "We can stop if you like, I can lie down on the floor."
"No." I hiss. Every step I take, I get whiffs of her sick which is still all down me. "We need to get back and I need a shower."
"How much longer?" She groans.
"Not long." Jordan says.
But clearly he is a liar and cannot be trusted because it feels like we have been walking for decades by the time we get back to our hall.
I'm extremely glad she lives in the same one as us because when we reach the door, she's all but intelligible and barely able to get her limbs to work.
If I thought the walk was long I am not prepared for the mammoth task of getting her up the stairs. Between Jordan and I, we manoeuvre her like she's an inanimate object.
It's like that scene from 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S' where Ross, Chandler and Rachel are trying to get the sofa up the stairs. Except, instead of someone screaming 'PIVOT', the stairwell is filled with our grunts and groans.
In the corridor outside her room she spends a painful amount of time fumbling for the key in her bag. Until finally, she opens her door. Then she mutters what I assume is a thanks and collapses, still clothed, onto her bed.
Her room has the same blue carpet and curtains as mine but it's twice the size. Her wardrobe is huge, her desk the length of the room. Her sink has a massive mirror above it, even her bed seems bigger. I feel like I've been snubbed by Oxford.
My room, at best, is the size of a shoebox. With just mum and I in it earlier it felt crowded. My wardrobe is definitely a lot smaller and my mum called my desk an "arm rest at best."
A horrible, wailing, "Nnaark!" sound comes from Kerry.
I look to Jordan, whispering, "Is that normal? Is that alright?"
"Yeah." He says, amused. "She's snoring."
She does it again and he starts laughing. I put my hands on my hips, "Surely that's deserving of a pig reference?"
He tuts, "Pigs don't sound like that when they sleep."
"Nnaark!"
"No?" I hiss. "What sound is that, then?"
"That is a beast trying to escape from the depths of hell through our new friend."
"Jordan!"
"What?" He asks. "Listen to it. Sounds like some sort of dying animal."
Despite myself, I laugh. Then she does it again and I stare down at her. "Should we call an ambulance?"
Jordan lets out a sharp laugh. "You are a bit of a drama queen, aren't you? She's fine, just overdone it with the drink. Why don't we go and chill for a bit and check up on her in an hour?"
He makes a move towards the door but I stay rooted where I am. "What if she chokes to death and we get done for murder?"
Jordan pauses in the door letting the light flood in. It seems to bounce around his shoulders and make him shine like an angel.
His words, however, aren't angelic. "You're a little bit weird, do you know that? You think about murder and murderers more than the average person."
"You're hardly one to judge. You're a furry."
"I-" He laughs. "What?"
"You're obsessed with pigs."
He chuckles, "I grew up around animals."
I jut my chin out, "I don't know why that would make it any less true. Anyway, that's just deflecting. Surely we should do something about the pug noises she's making?"
"She's just snoring!" He's amused and annoyed. "Will you come and have a cup of tea and we'll check back in a bit?"
I stay still for a second, then she makes the sound again and I decide that we'll probably be able to hear it from down the hall. If it stops, that will be the time to worry.
"Fine."
I follow him out and we go to the kitchen. He artfully manages to find my tea bags and two grey mugs. He doesn't ask whose they are before he makes use of them. I make a mental note that they'll be gone by the end of the week. He gestures for me to sit. I get comfortable on one of the leather sofas. Once the teas are done he sits next to me.
"You know," he says, "I don't know your name."
"Autumn." I tell him.
"Your full name?"
"Autumn April Summers."
He laughs, then he sees I'm not joking and he sobers. "Does your mum hate you? Bet that was rough in school."
I nod into my cup, "It was lots of 'Hey, Autumn. Do you know the weather?' - 'Hey, Autumn, can you tell when it's going to be sunny?'"
His eyes roam around my face as if I'm a puzzle and he's trying to figure out. "Mum wanted to call me Jack Nickleson but she was worried about the amount of 'Where's Johnny' jokes I'd have to fend off, so she settled with Jordan."
"No middle name?" I ask.
"No middle name."
We stare at each other for a long moment. It isn't awkward but it's not comfortable. It's the sort of silence that ought to be filled, but I don't know what to say. He's sat too close, his leg is pressed into mine. All my feelings seem to be swelling, coming to a head. Like a spot that is desperate to burst.
I have never been this attracted to another person in all my life and I have no idea what the hell I'm meant to do with it.
"Autumn," he says my name so endearingly I feel my throat get tight.
"Mm?"
"I don't want to be rude-"
"That's unusual for you."
"-but you fucking reek of sick."
"Oh my God!"
I jump up, completely forgetting about my tea. Which somehow defies the nature of gravity and flies out and back into my cup. Not without drops of it spraying all over Jordan.
Sick down me, tea on the boy I like. A boy, who has watched me get stuck in a window, hobble like a diseased donkey, almost attack him with an umbrella and get thrown up on. I am probably the least attractive person he knows.
"I am so sorry." I tell him.
He's got a big grin on his face, "It's okay, honestly. You're a mess, but I think I like it?"
"Well, that makes one of us."
"Go on," He says. He's looking at me all soft. I'd melt into a puddle if I could. "Go and get showered, I'll man the fort."
I scuttle away with a nod. Embarrassed, mortified, unsure why a hole hasn't opened up and dragged me down to hell. I slam into my room, grab my toiletries and dash for the bathroom.
Now he's pointed it out all I can smell is sick.
I'm quick with the shower, quick to get into my silk pyjamas (not my 101 Dalmatians ones) and even faster to get back to him. There's two steaming cups of tea laid out and he's reading that book again. It's '1984'.
"Do you always have a book with you?"
"Yes." He says. "Always. In case I'm having a bad time. I get ones that can perfectly fit into my back pocket so I can pull it out whenever."
He says it un-ironically and seriously. He's not joking. I sort of gawk at him. There is nothing hotter than a guy who reads and enjoys it.
"I made fresh tea."
"Thank you." I say, sitting next to him and picking it up. "Did you check on Kerry?"
"Yeah. Can't you hear her?"
"I can. I just wanted to see if you checked."
He laughs. His face is all open and welcoming. I wish I could stare at him forever without it being weird.
His eyes seem to twinkle as he takes me in. "Shall we make a pact?"
"That if Kerry dies we had nothing to do with it?"
"That's not a pact, that's true. Besides, if she does die she'll be one of those legendary stories of weird ways people die in freshers."
"That we are complicit in."
"For God's sake, you can literally hear her. She sounds like a freight train bombing through halls."
"Fine." I give a little smile. "What's your pact?"
"That when the sun comes up, we'll still speak to each other."
I debate whether to answer him genuinely or if that would seem too eager. I never know how you're supposed to act with these things. I've liked boys before but I think I either came off indifferent or too much.
I don't know how to sit comfortably in the middle, I never have.
"If you would like?" I say.
"Very much so," he mutters.
He's unblinking, his eyes holding strong on mine. There it is, that thing between us. Pulsating. Like an energy exchange.
I feel myself blush. "Then I'd like that too."
"Good." He murmurs and for a brief moment I think he's going to kiss me. Instead he blinks, leans away from me. "Let's go make sure she's alive."
As I follow him into the dark hallway, I can't help but think this was the best way to start University.