It takes only a couple of short hours to get the rest of my things unpacked after the floor meeting. I'm content with my choices, but the standard furniture the university provided for us is ruining all of my intentions to have a cute room.
It isn't horrible, necessarily—I mean, I'm grateful that they provide us with something in the first place—but the warm hues of the wooden desk and dresser kind of throw off the whole beachy theme I plan on having for my side of the room. But either way, the theme will have to wait until I get some essentials for my stay here; until I have a set budget in mind to buy some decorations, the only thing that looks cute in here, for now, is going to have to be my bed, which just so happens to be my favorite part of the room so far.
It has the cutest periwinkle blue comforter and a plush white throw blanket folded neatly along the foot of the bed with white pillows to match. The design of the comforter reminds me of the waves in the ocean—one of my favorite things in the entire world—and looks great without being too loud. Perfect.
When I look over at Aspen's side of the room, she's going through the last tub of things that her dad wheeled in here by cart. It seems to be full of special items as I watch how gently she handles the photos and papers inside of it. I tear my eyes away from her before I stare for too long and I look at the decorations she has up instead.
Her entire side is very bohemian and trendy, plastered with neutral-colored butterfly posters and rustic wood shelves, and beige yarn art that hangs right above the head of her bed. Fake vines dress the area around her bed, including the ceiling, and the amount of both real and fake plants scattered around her side is a little concerning. I didn't realize she had such a big thing for plants.
I spot a familiar stuffed animal on her sage green duvet—Mr. Woody. It's the little woodchuck plush she would carry around with her any time we had a long bus ride for one of the countless activities we were involved in.
"You still have that thing?" I ask without thinking. She glances up from the photos in her hand and meets my eyes for a moment before she realizes I'm talking about Mr. Woody. She's had it for as long as I've known her; I thought it would be all matted and gross by now, but it looks to be in decent shape still.
Aspen just shrugs. "I guess so." Her reply is so nonchalant, as if she hardly cares about it, but I doubt she would've taken it across the country with her if it really meant that little. I just nod my head as I hide my skeptical smirk.
"Is your dad staying in town for long?" I ask after a moment of unsettling silence passes. She sighs without looking up from her photos.
"No, he's leaving tonight," she says quickly. "After he takes me out for dinner."
I nod again, trying not to let the awkward silence push me to ask another stupid question until her phone buzzes on her desk. She snatches it with haste and glues her eyes to the screen as we hear a knock at our door.
"Come in," we say simultaneously, exchanging looks of disgust for a moment in response. The door swings open as Norah and Opal saunter in with wide grins.
"Hey," Norah beams. "What are you guys up to?"
"I just finished unpacking," I tell her, hopping down from my tall bed to greet them at the door. "Aspen's finishing up now."
"Oh, nice!" She smiles. "Opal and I just thought we should all exchange numbers real quick since everyone's here."
"Yeah, sure." I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it to Norah as she slides hers to me, practically bursting with excitement. I quickly type my number in before handing it off to Aspen and reaching for Opal's phone instead.
"Now that that's all settled," Norah announces next, "I can tell you the real reason we wanted to exchange numbers: we want to take you to a frat party tomorrow!"
Despite my efforts, my eyebrows shoot up and my eyes widen at the thought of attending a party. I knew this day would come—the day when I'd finally have to go to a college party and have college fun instead of sitting at home on my laptop all day. But a college party is a huge deal, especially since I've never been to one before. Unless family birthday parties count, which I'm almost certain they do not.
"Oh, I'm so in," Aspen agrees immediately, leaning back in her chair and relishing in the thought of being in her element at a party with her peers. I envy her ability to fit in so easily.
"I thought Barington didn't have Greek life?" I ask the summer veterans.
"It's a frat from Colorado State," Norah explains quickly. "We have some friends in the frat that we went to school with."
"You don't have to say yes," Opal tells me when they notice my reluctant expression. "We just wanted to invite you in case you were interested in going."
The giant smile on Norah's face and the somehow intimidating sincerity in Opal's tone makes it so much harder to decline the offer, but ultimately, I accept for one reason and one reason only: I will not lose to Aspen Greenwood again. What would I be losing by not going to this party? I have no clue, but I don't plan on finding out.
"No, no," I tell them with a genuine smile, "I'd love to go."
"Yay!" Norah claps her hands with an impossibly bigger grin than before. "Oh my god, I need to figure out an outfit."
"Homework first, Norah," Opal quickly reminds her as they follow her out the door. I chuckle when I hear a faded whimper come from the blonde right before their bedroom door shuts behind them.
"You're a party girl now?" Aspen asks as soon as I click our door shut, her voice soft and curious. I roll my eyes.
"Don't pretend you know me just because we went to school together."
"I'm not pretending to know anything," she argues, "I'm certain you don't go to parties because we've spent practically our entire lives around each other."
I shake my head, refusing to give in to her, and her phone buzzes again. She tells me it's her dad and that she'll be back in a couple of hours as she pulls her braids behind her ears and pushes her feet into her Docs. She leaves in silence and I'm left to sit in the room alone, with nothing to do but worry about what I'm wearing to the party tomorrow.
The first night was surprisingly calm. I was terrified that Aspen and I would have a hard time sleeping in the same room, but we managed to get some rest without wanting to kill each other, so that was something. Although, I guess it wasn't our first sleepover, technically. Thanks to out-of-state volleyball tournaments and FBLA camping trips, we've spent a lot of time sleeping in the same room, and even in the same bunk, sometimes. Those nights were rough.
But today we woke up at around six in the morning—stupid jet lag—perfectly intact with no interference with the other.
Aspen made her way to check out the on-campus gym and I started my day with a trip to the cute coffee shop at the student union, which had just opened by the time I made it there. I was the first customer, which made me feel kind of guilty for some reason, and the employees were yawning behind the counter despite their excited smiles. I ordered my usual go-to, an iced caramel macchiato, and sat down at one of the tables, scrolling on my phone until my drink was gone.
On my way back to the dorm, I took advantage of my early start and made a few stops at some of the famous Barington hotspots before too many people could show up. I visited the brand new art museum, the third one on the official campus now, and I got a bagel from the cafe at the Wolf's Den, which is Barington's most popular library. But my favorite was the not-so-secretive "Secret Garden" behind Barington House, the first dorm building ever built here.
The entire experience was necessary, especially after the stress I've been through just trying to get here and then realizing my roommate is my one true academic rival. But after spending hours out in the Colorado sun, I finally make it back to the dorm, practically dying of thirst.
I start chugging water from my water bottle as soon as I open my bedroom door, just to be met with Aspen's judgmental stare.
"When did you get back?" I ask as I set the bottle down.
"Like, ten minutes ago," she answers reluctantly, clearly holding back a laugh. I let it go and turn to my small closet, where I've pushed the university dresser into in order to make more room on my side.
I start shuffling through the clothes that I hung yesterday, desperately trying to figure out what party clothes even look like.
"Isn't there usually a theme for these things?" I ask out loud, forgetting that the person I'm asking is Aspen.
"It's neon," she answers flatly, not even turning her head to face me.
"How do you know?"
"Norah told me when I came back from the gym."
I fix my attention back on my clothes and start sifting through them to find something neon, even though I'm almost certain that is the one color group I would've left behind. When I can't find anything hanging up, I carefully go through my clothes in the dresser until I spot something bright orange in the back corner of the bottom drawer.
"Oh, please, no," I whisper to myself as I pull it out. It's the uncomfortably loud construction worker vest we used at our Environmental Club "civic-planning" events that really repelled more donors than it attracted. As I stare at it in horror, I hear an obnoxious snort come from Aspen's side of the room.
"Maybe you just shouldn't go," she struggles to tell me through her laughter.
"Oh, shut up." I roll my eyes at her and examine the vest again. "Who even keeps neon clothes? I thought it wasn't popular anymore."
Aspen doesn't answer me, thank god, and I take a moment to myself as I brush through my hair with my fingers. It's too thin to really get tangled but sometimes the feeling of the hair between my fingers is oddly comforting.
"I think you can make that work," Norah tells me as she walks into the room. I don't realize she's here until she speaks, making me jump. "Oh, sorry! I just heard you from the living room so I came in to give you some advice."
"No, it's okay," I tell her. "You don't think I'll look stupid?"
"No! Not at all. Besides, nobody really cares what you wear to parties—as long as a bunch of hot girls show up."
I nod slowly, realizing my television-cultivated opinion of college parties is turning out to be the actual truth.
"Oh, and make sure you bring a swimsuit," Norah suggests as she's about to leave the room. "This frat house is known for its pool."