Alex

Forty minutes and a mile and a half of sweat, tears, and suitcase-related suffering later, I'm finally where I belong.

At least, I think this is where I belong.

See below.

ALEX'S OFFICIAL FIRST DAY OF COLLEGE OBSERVATION CHECKLIST:

Huge mob of mainly female students--check.

Randomly assorted palm trees--check.

All you can eat dining hall--check.

Two fancy-schmancy looking dorms strategically positioned next to my grey/beige future home--check.

Ladies and gentlemen...now, I've actually arrived.

And I'm hot, tired, and sweating like a half-pig, half-human hybrid.

If I was a normal person, I'd roll up my sleeves, dart into the nearest bathroom, and change into my cutesy blue and gold Soffe shorts like everybody else.

But seeing as I'm the only girl on campus who's legs look like an advertisement for the Twilight Books, that's not happening.

Whatever.

Pale people are people too.

Thank God for leggings and long sleeves.

I tug on the strings of my light weight hoodie, slip into my sunglasses, and generally hide from the outside world as I move into the fray of first years.

Every single person strutting across the courtyard seems runway beautiful. The girls are tall, unrealistically pretty, and popular. The boys remind me of a certain someone I'm never mentioning again.

Maybe this is where the cool kids go to college.

Maybe my admission was a mistake 'cause little miss Alex Summers does not fit into the line of LA Barbies gathering like flies in front of my dorm.

Crowd-based anxiety rips through my chest as I search for the nearest authoritative figure to help me. A gaggle of segway police stand semi-menacingly in front of Covel Commons warily eyeing the same mob of girls that seems to keep growing in size.

I swallow my hesitation and flag down a stout, mustached, campus cop who looks a lot like a blonde pot-bellied version of Chuck Norris.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know how I can get into Canyon Point? I'm supposed to move in today, but there's so many people and I was wondering if you could help me--"

"--Get an autograph?" He asks.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Wait, don't tell me, you want one of those InstaCam or Instagram pictures with that uh--tween heartthrob who just moved in, right?"

A furrow breaks out between my eyebrows, and the easy going smile on his face fades.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I say.

He steps off his segway and leans in so close I can smell the Subway foot long he probably had for lunch on his breath.

"Listen, sweetheart. I've seen this act before. Since this morning, at least fifty other girls have played the "doe eyed and innocent card" before you. So take your fake suitcases, and your fake move in story, and your tiny teenie bopper dreams, and go somewhere else. Boys, let's roll."

Fat, evil Chuck Norris hops back up on to his segway and zooms off to disperse a few fangirls before disappearing out of sight.

Freshman Survival Tip #2: Don't rely on segway cops for anything--ever.

Once the ridiculousness of the moment settles, I wrench my suitcases behind me and try forcing my way through the giant glob of poster-carrying psychos.

Patience, Alex. Patience. At the end of your jet-lagged, big-bagged journey there's a bed waiting...somewhere.

I dig into my jacket pocket for my headphones, but a gaggle of girls brush past me in a mad dash and knock them straight out of my hands. Wild energy pulses through the crowd, and at least a hundred bodies crash into each other only to crush the life out of me. 

The air's suddenly a thousand degrees hotter and concrete thick. I'm gasping, flailing, fighting to escape the grip of a mob that makes waiting outside a Justin Bieber concert look like a walk in the park.

Everyone within thirty feet of me pushes forward to get a closer look at whatever the hell's happening up ahead.

Screams rip through the LA skyline, and I slam my hands over my ears just to keep from going deaf. I drop to my knees and sandwich myself between my bags to keep the herd of wildebeest women from stepping on me mid-frenzy.

Everything from Vans to flip-flops fly by my head in a flurry.

This is it.

The moment where my life ends before it's even had the chance to start.

I panic. I pause.

They pause.

Everything stops, and stills just long enough for me to drag myself to my feet to find out why.

A leggy blonde steps out of the dorm with her perfectly manicured hand wrapped tightly around a megaphone. She struts over to a wide set concrete planter only to have two basketball players lift her up off the ground like she's weightless. 

Once she's on her feet, she scans the masses from behind a pair of hot pink Ray Bans and then clears her throat to speak.

"Ladies, attention over here please. Thank you."

Her voice silences the group with the authority of a sorority girl shoe-in. Even I'm tempted to listen, and I hate princess types. If it were a little over a year ago and she'd been my therapist, I definitely would've punched her in the face. But I've changed now--I think.

"I'm Roxy--"

Of course you are.

"--and I'm a Resident Assistant here at Canyon Point. I know a lot of you have heard about our VIP resident this year, and while I appreciate and totally share your excitement, he hasn't arrived yet, and this crowd is a fire hazard. So, unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask everyone but Canyon Point residents to leave. Thank you."

A groan the size of Texas ripples across the overpacked courtyard, and just like magic, the Spartan three hundred start to disappear. I square up to avoid being shoved for the fourteenth time as hoards of disheartened girls walk by. 

I step out of myself and all my insecurities for a moment, and people watch. It's weirdly calming trying to figure out their problems instead of focusing on my own.

The stream of strangers is endless, and endlessly interesting. The shyer girls leave hopeless, while the more resistant ones hold their ground determined to get whatever it is they came for.

A group of slightly less intimidating freshman stand in the heart of the die-hard stronghold, each one of them scowling the way only fan girls can.

Aside from their iron-willed, "we'll come back tomorrow" whispers they seem pretty normal. But not normal-normal. Awkward-normal, like me. They're not super models, or beach bunnies, they're just people. People I could maybe--make friends with.

I open my mouth to ask them what's happening, but the question dies on my lips when the group bursts into a screaming match.

The tallest of the three calls dibs on the giant glittery heart poster dangling between her fingers.
I squint at the message scribbled in puff paint across the front.

"We love you--"

Suddenly, the smallest girl in the group, snatches the sign, cuts away from her friends, and jams it into the trash before I can make it out.

Oh well.

Alex-college-girl-Summers doesn't have time to pry into teenie bopper art projects or read into their obsessions.

I have a room to find, and barely any energy left to find it.

I drag practically everything I own towards my dorm and scramble to catch the door before it closes. Roxy or Rosie or whatever is standing in her short-shorts blocking the entire walk way as she flirts her face off with her two sporty henchmen.

I let go of my bags, wipe the sweat off my face, and force myself to be as nice and friendly as possible to a girl who looks secretly demon possessed.

Fake it till you make it, Alex.

"Hi, um, you said you were the RA here right?" I ask.

Roxy pulls down her glasses and smacks her gum just loudly enough to let me know she's irritated with my question.

"Obviously."

She points to a tiny "Hello" sticker pasted across her fake left boob with her name and position written on it in sharpie.

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, my name's Alex. I'm in Quad three, and I was wondering if you could--"

"Top floor, end of the hallway on the--wait, did you say you were in Quad three?"

Her eyes swell to the size of golfballs. I've either pissed her off or made her day, but that's the problem with Barbie Dolls, all their facial expressions look exactly the same. Roxy's no exception.

"I am, at least, I'm pretty sure I am."

"What year are you?" She asks, words clipped.

"First."

"Sorry, but that's not possible, babe. First years don't get into quads, especially Quad three. Can I see your housing letter?"

I scramble to yank my phone out of the side pocket of my back pack while trying my best not to have a nervous breakdown in front of Cruella Deville.

"Sure, I just have to open my email and--"

She snatches it away from me and runs her french tipped nails across the screen while I stand there in silence. My heart's beating so hard I feel it pulsing in my ears.

You're okay, Alex. This isn't high school. You're fine. Everything's fine.

"Well, apparently you're not a total liar. Looks like we'll be quad buddies--um, what was your name again?"

"Alex," I say, extending a hand. She doesn't shake it, just stares at me for a couple seconds too long before shoving over my phone.

"Great. Anyway, Connor and Josh will help move your things upstairs. If you have any questions for me, Google them first, and then email me if you don't find your answer. Knocking on my door is off limits to freshman, okay? I'm usually super busy outside of classes."

She eyes the shaggy haired brunette standing next to her who I assume is Conner or Josh. JoshConner shoots her the kind of smile that clues me in on her "extra curricular" activities.

"I understand. Thanks," I say, fake smile on point.

Roxy snaps at the two boys, and they set off with my suitcases before I can stop them. I readjust my backpack and give an appreciative nod to Satan's ex girlfriend before heading inside. She stops me, mid-step.

"Oh, and by the way. The new guy in our quad is off limits, clear?"

As if on cue, the sweet, lilting voice she'd put on in front of JoshConnor dies, and her ice queen tone cuts through the heat like a chainsaw.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

Roxy folds her arms across her C-minus chest and scoffs loud enough to piss me off.

"Oh please, Alisha--"

"It's Alex."

"Whatever. The point is, this quad's mine. As a matter of fact, this entire dorm is mine. Everybody knows me, most people love me, my haters secretly wish they were me, so if you wanna stay on my good side, you won't go anywhere near VIP boy. Got it?"

Great. Not even two hours on campus, and I'm already taking shit from the Wicked Witch of Westwood. Awesome.

My brain tells my mouth to answer, but I decide to keep silent and watch her turn red in the face instead.

"Woo-hoo? Excuse me?! Look me in the eye when I'm talking to you, frosh!"

Patience...

...done.

"Listen, Roxalia--"

"---It's Roxy!"

"Who cares?"

"Everyone."

"Look, let's get a couple things straight. Number one, I have a boyfriend. Number Two, I don't give a rat's ass about self-proclaimed celebrities, so drop the ego. And number three, I'm from Jersey, and back home girls like you get snapped in half for mouthing off to the wrong person. So next time you think about getting in my face, you better remember where I come from."

I pop the pressure out of my hands, curl my fingers back, and swallow the impulse to sink my knuckles straight into her nose.

I've grown up--almost.

My arm shoots out, but I stop my fist inches away from her face.

Roxy's sunglasses slide to the ground and her eyes tear behind her fake lashes.

"Did you just try to hit me?!" She babbles.

Her shaky hand flies over her mouth.

"I didn't try to hit you. I missed you on purpose. There's a difference."

"I could totally get you suspended for that!"

"You're right, you could. But I'm pretty sure the housing department wouldn't be too happy to hear about you threatening new residents and calling hook-up dibs on a school VIP. But that's just me."

Roxy blows a tuft of air out of her nose and straightens out her perfectly white polo.

"You're gonna regret this, frosh. And for the record, I'm gonna make it my personal mission to turn your life here into a living hell. Hope you're ready."

I take a couple steps closer to her 'til she's virtually on the edge of tripping over her feet.

"I've already been to hell and back, Roxy. So if I were you, I'd keep your distance. Have a nice day."

I turn on my heels and strut right past her and into the cool air conditioned lobby of Canyon Point. I round the corner and dart up the stairs as soon as I realize that she's not following me. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket, hands shaking, and dial the only person who can realistically calm me down.

Outgoing Call to "Boyfriend" :

BF: "Hello?"

AS: "Hey, babe, I'm sorry to call you so early, but I kind of sort of got into a fight with my RA, and I think she hates me now, and I'm basically having a really bad day so...how soon can you be here?"

BF: "Alex--"

His voice echoes down from the top of the stairwell and my heart stops.

"--I'm already here."

You never know how much you miss a person 'til the distance between you disappears.

And now there's nothing left standing between the two us but the afternoon shadows and half a staircase.

No one's watching as I ease into his arms.

No one's stopping me from melting against his lips.

It's me and him caught in the middle of a Kodak moment.

And, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

'Cause when it comes to second chances, Kai comes first this time around.