Stanford University was huge.

The green lawns stretched out, only interrupted by neat, paved pathways that wound intricately between the stretches of grass, leading to the cluster of Spanish-style stucco buildings where I would be spending the final two years of my undergraduate career. Right in the center of the green lawns, made up completely of red and white roses, was the Stanford University school logo. All around, students were walking and greeting each other, suitcases and bags in tow, after the long summer vacation. The sound of chatter and laughter filled the air. It was move-in week.

I adjusted the straps of my bag on my shoulder and got a better grip on my extra large suitcase, the familiar feeling of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. It was funny, even as an adult starting a new school still made me nervous. Taking a deep breath, I began walking toward campus.

I was going to be staying in the Mirrielees House campus apartments. I had one roommate, but I had no idea who she was. Since I was transferring from a community college, I didn't have very many friends at Stanford. Or any friends at all, for that matter.

Sighing, I made my way to the apartments. Once I got outside, I frowned. Mirrielees House was definitely not as glamourous-looking as the rest of the campus was. It was a plain white and orange building that was only a few floors tall. There were tall trees that blocked the view of the building. As I walked in, I wondered how it was possible for the school to have so much greenery when California was supposed to be in a state of essential drought. 

Luckily for me, my apartment was one the very first floor of the building, so I didn't have to drag my bags too far. My furniture and the rest of my things were arriving later on that day in a movng van. I rested my suitcase against my hip and rummaged through my shoulder bag for the keys to my apartment. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I pulled my bag in front of me so I could look inside--I couldn't find my keys. 

"Where the hell did I put them?" I muttered to myself. As I dug around my bag, I felt the weight of my suitcase lift off my leg as it tilted to the side and began to topple over, taking the large tote bag that was sitting on top of it with it. I lunged to keep it from falling over, but as I did so, my shoulder bag slid off my shoulder, the contents of it falling all over the floor. To add to the chaos, my tote bag landed upside down on the ground, spilling out everything I had stuffed inside of it. I groaned. Sitting on top of the mess were my keys.

"You have got to be kidding me," I huffed, snatching up the keys and putting them in my pocket. I got down on my knees and started picking up my things, which were mostly random accessories and textbooks that I had haphazardly stuffed in my bags. 

"Woahhhh hot mess alert," I heard a boyish voice say from behind me near the entrance of the building.

"Emphasis on the hot," I heard a second voice add. I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks redden slightly, but continued to pick up my things without looking back. 

"Don't be a douche, Elliot," I heard a third voice say. After a moment, a shadow dropped over me. I looked up to see a tall guy in coral shorts standing over me. I couldn't make out his face from where I was squatting because of the sunlight streaming in behind him. "Need help?" the guy asked. His other two friends laughed and said something about going to their apartment.

"No, that's all right. Thank you, though," I replied, tucking my dark hair behind my ears. 

"Here, it's okay," the guy said, squatting next to me and grabbing a few of my textbooks from off the floor. I mumbled a feeble thanks and took the books from him, shoving them to the bottom of the tote. I felt my cheeks burning. This was the best first impression to make at a brand new school--spilling my shit all over the apartment building.

"So are you moving in?" the guy asked, handing me the rest of my books in a neat pile.

I internally rolled my eyes. No, I just like going into random apartment buildings and dropping my stuff all over the place during move-in week.

"Yeah," I responded. 

"Where are you moving in from? One of the residence halls?" he asked. I shook my head and zipped up the tote bag with all of my books so that another fiasco wouldn't occur. Finally, I looked up at the guy. 

He was attractive, with wide blue eyes and an unruly mass of mousy brown hair sticking up on top of his head. Up close, he had a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked like a genuinely kind person, so I decided to be kind, despite my embarassment and frustration with myself. 

"This is actually my first semester here," I said. He raised his eyebrows and then nodded.

"Well, I'm Sebastian. My friends call me Sebo," he said, extending a hand out to me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim shorts and shook his hand.

"Blake," I said. He quirked an eyebrow. "My parents wanted a boy," I said, rolling my eyes. He chuckled and we both stood up. My legs were a bit wobbly from squatting for so long, so I grabbed onto my suitcase handle for support. 

"Well, Blake, looks like you and I are neighbors," he said, pointing to the apartment across the hall from mine. "I live in a three-bedroom with my friends Elliot and James," he told me. 

"I have a two-bedroom. I don't know who my roommate is just yet," I replied. 

"A random? Well, good luck with that. Hopefully she doesn't turn out to be a psycho," he said with a laugh. 

"Well, there's only one way to find out," I replied, reaching into my pocket to pull out my keys. He chuckled as I put the keys into the keyhole. "Thanks for helping me pick up my stuff," I said. He shrugged.

"No problem. If you need help with anything else, just holler across the hall," he offered. I gave him a brief smile before turning the key to unlock the door. "See you around, Blake," he said, waving at my back and then receding to his room.

"See you," I replied, hearing him entering his apartment. I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to my own place only to be hit by a strong scent of pot. 

"Holy fuck," I coughed, dragging my suitcase inside the apartment and dropping my bags on the floor inside. I shut the door behind me and scrunched up my nose at the strong smell. I internally groaned; my roommate would be a pothead.

The apartment was spacious, with a large window in the center of the main room that was currently empty, aside from a beat-up coffee table. To the right of the entrance was a sizable kitchen and to the left was a closet. On either side of the apartment were two doors that I assumed led to the bedrooms. As I looked around, the door on the left opened and out walked a petite girl with a wild mane of curly black hair. In her hand was a rolled up joint--the source of the smell.

"You must be my new roommate," she said, taking a drag. 

"Yeah, I'm Blake," I said.

"Maria," she replied, extending out a hand with chipped black nailpolish on it. I shook it gingerly. "You want to take a hit?" she asked, holding out the joint to me. 

"No thanks," I replied half-heartedly. She shrugged.

"Suit yourself," she said, taking another drag. She wandered back into her room and closed the door behind her, leaving me alone in the center of my new apartment, the stench of marijuana all around me.

"I hate my life," I whispered to myself, picking up my bags and heading towards my room.

It was looking like Stanford might not be as glamorous as I had thought it would be. 

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A/N: New story alert! Okay, so I figured I'd try my hand at writing again. I took a 1.5 year long hiatus and I'm on my last winter break for the rest of my life and I'm a poor college student that can't afford to go on cool trips and I'm bored as hell. 

So...yah. Here it is. Let's see how it goes.

You know the drill...comment & vote (plz)!

XOXO