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My mother is teary-eyed. “Don’t forget to call me tonight before bed, boys. Let us know when you are all settled in, okay?” She sniffles as I shut her door.
Dan and I wave until they’re out of sight. We’re left standing on the pavement as Levi and Silas stroll up to us.
“We should get back to the dorm to unpack,” I suggest after a long silence.
They nod in agreement.
Levi is the only one who doesn’t want to get out and meet people, more comfortable with his eyes on a textbook than anywhere else.
Dan and Silas are both itching to engage with the other students. Their eyes follow the pretty girls walking by while mine stay trained ahead. It’s going to take a while to get used to living here without the guidance and overhanging authority of our parents. I’m a grown man, but living on my own isn’t something I’ve truly ever desired. I make a good living, working for my father and his brothers, and I enjoy my life. Farming the land is a riveting occupation.
We finally reach the dorms, embarking on our elevator journey upward. We spend our first hours of freedom trying to blend in with a foreign crowd we know very little about.
3
Harley
There’s a siren going off. I smack my hand around, trying to disarm the offensive object. Blissful silence finally greets my ears. I worked till closing at the bar last night, and now, I have an eight a.m. class because I’m masochistic. In Illinois, you have to be twenty-one to bartend. God bless Texas.
My strawberry-blonde roommate turns on a hair dryer. Her ringlet curls are something you would expect to be fake but apparently aren’t. I squint open my eyes, deciding if she really needs to do that this early or if she’s just that annoying girl who doesn’t care if people are trying to sleep. She turns to smile at me and shuts it off.
“Sorry! I have to set the mousse. It’ll just be a second! When’s your first class?”
I groan and flip over. I hate talking before I have caffeine.
The leafy babies I got at the nursery last week are bathed in sunlight on the windowsill. I need to check their soil for moisture.
“Eight,” I grumble.
“Oh, me too! Wow, I’m so envious you can just roll out of bed. It takes me ages to get ready.”
I hope Goldilocks doesn’t think we’re going to be friends. After another few minutes of the hair-dryer sound, I decide I might as well make the most of my time. It won’t hurt to look good on the first day. As my friend Sal at the bar advised me, you never know when you’ll get a pervy professor who goes easier on the attractive female students.
I get up with a sigh, do the necessities, and run through my detailed makeup routine. A scarlet lip tint feels right for the first day. My hair is always a little grunge, which I like. A cheap wand defines the thick raven mess of hair. I survey my closet, thrilled to be attending a school without a dress code. I select a red lacy bralette; a strappy, low-cut black tank; and my high-waisted black denim cutoffs. The ensemble is completed with my white high-top tennis shoes. I grab my backpack and open the door.
“Wait! I’m almost ready!”
I sigh and check my refurbished phone screen. I need coffee before class, or I won’t be able to focus. Mondays are the only nights I’ll close at the bar and have to get up four hours later.
“Hurry, so I can stop by the café.” Can’t she tell by my voice that I need coffee?
“Oh, yes, great idea. I could really use a venti Americano,” she yells from inside the closet.
When she finally joins me, I’m impressed. Blondie cleans up nice. She’s got on shorts like mine, only whitewashed denim, and a white tank with a hot-pink sports bra poking out of the top. Except for the stupid chunky white headband stuck in her curls, she looks good. Maybe I’ll raid her closet. We sort of create a yin-and-yang effect together. The light splatter of freckles across her nose gives her a much more innocent look than my body art gives me.
“What’s your first class?” she asks as we walk.
“Principles of Horticulture.” I try not to let the excitement in my voice be too evident. Living, leafy things are my passion.
“Oh, that sounds interesting. I wonder if there will be any cute guys in a class like that.”
I have no reply, so I stay silent.
“My first class is Behavioral and Social Science.”
“Cool.”
We reach the café, and the line is out the door.
