The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

11

ISLA'S POV

"Now this is the end of our campus tour. We're now going to put you in little groups and assign you certain tasks that will help you get to know the campus and each other a bit more. Does anyone have any questions so far?", the girl who's probably two or three years older than me asks.

We've already been divided into smaller groups for the campus tour. So right now we're about twenty five people I guess. Twenty five people who are just as excited and thrilled to be here. All of us worked hard and studies day and night to be accepted to a school like this.

In moments like this I realise how lucky and fortunate I am that I had supporting parents and teachers. I should call Mr. Florentine. He's the one who got me into the scholarship program after all. Without his letter of recommendation and his tips for my essay, I wouldn't be here today, starring at the giant brick facade of one of the best colleges in the country.

"Great. I'll read out the names then. Please get together in your groups."

We'll have three days of orientation starting today until the actual classes begin on Monday. It's been a stressful couple of days for me especially since I started my job at aunt Dana's a couple of days ago. The job per se isn't what's stressing me out; I do have some experience with working as a waitress, not a lot but I did help out at a few school events back home. However, it's physically really exhausting and I was knocked out the day after my first shift so I am not sure how I'll be able to manage the job and college at the same time.

"And Isla Austen."

I go to the group of people who've been called up before me, waiting for the senior girl to sort in the other people in their groups as well. When I look around I notice that it's only five people. I prefer small groups. It's easier to make conversations.

"Related to Jane Austen per chance?" A girl asks. She's looks really adorable. Ginger hair, brown eyes, freckles.

"I wish." I reply. I heard that one too many times.

"I am Orla." She reaches out her hand for me to shake.

"Isla." I shake her hand ans smirk when I notice the similarity in our names.

"Love your name." She compliments. "Hispanic heritage?"

I shake my head. "My mother just liked the name. What about you? Irish?"

"Obvi." She points at her red hair and freckles causing me to burst out in laughter.

"I didn't want to be stereotypical.", I explain myself. I mean she does look Irish, and the name kind of confirmed that already but you never know and I didn't want to assume anything.

"Please, I look like the female version of Ed Sheeran. Can't get any more Irish than that."

At this point I am doing my absolute best not to laugh which is hard because she does have a point. She's definitely still pretty but they do have similarities. "Well, Ed is cute."

"Oh, so we're lying today?"

I dramatically gasp. "No, I mean it. I swear. He is adorable."

"Then you have a terrible taste in men."

I can't deny that one.

"So, are you from New York?" I change the topic.

"Born and raised. What about you?"

"Asheville, Carolina." I reply. "I moved here around a week ago."

"Are you staying in the dorms?"