Colette Beaumont has finally started to put herself back together after a messy breakup and has sworn off loving anyone forever. As Colette goes through the ups and downs of beginning college, she realizes that love isn't as easy to escape as she t...
The thing about living in California, is that it is almost always warm. I mean it's not 80 degrees in the middle of winter like it is in, say, Miami or Honolulu, but it averages between 50-70 degrees from late fall to early winter, so it's not like you are stuck inside of your dorm all weekend.
The only problem about leaving campus grounds during the weekend is that it is strongly discouraged for underclassmen unless they are accompanied with a junior or senior. I don't know why they do that, but they do, and it would suck if Carter didn't know almost all of the upperclassmen population.
Carter always invites me to tag along with him and his friends and sometimes I decline his offer, saying that I have this uber-important exam I need to study for (which most likely is the case, but sometimes I just don't want to hang out with a bunch of macho boys and their trashy girlfriends.)
Don't get me wrong, they aren't all like that, but a wide majority are. Besides, I think the only reason that Carter asks me to go to places with him is out of pity; he's more like an assigned buddy than a genuine friend. He knows that I have social anxiety and have a hard time opening up to strangers, but he doesn't push me to make friends (which I am grateful for).
If you were to ask me how many friends I have made in my first two months here at UCLA, I could list them all on one hand. Carter. Danielle (my roommate). Sid (one of the UCLA librarians).Corrine (a bubbly blonde from my Comparative Literature class). Three of the four I only socialize with because it makes sense. Danielle, being my roommate, means that we see each every morning and night, and we both decided that exchanging brief greetings and compliments makes us friends.
Corrine is one of those people who is articulate without being pushy. In the beginning of the semester, I tried to politely ignore her, but she didn't really get the hint. Before class, she would play twenty questions, asking me things like: Where do you see yourself in five years? or What is your favorite class? I answered Comparative Lit. to the latter question, and I just shrugged at the former. I have no idea what I was going to do for dinner, much less five years. We ended up going out for dinner together, by the way. As for Sid, he is one of those carefree, hippyish teachers that every university or high school always seems to have. He always asks for my recomendation on a book, so I guess we are friends.
Finally, there is Carter. He is easy to like, but he annoys the hell out of me with his comments and insults. We are past the stage of being acquaintances. When we aren't studying (or arguing), we are watching old war documentaries or videos. Shockingly, he is a a huge Vietnam enthusiast. He wants to be a history major, but his father is forcing him to major in Business and Management.
Whenever we cross over to a conversation of his father or family, he always changes the topic, saying that he's a heartless, Grade-A-prick who only cares about himself and his business. I decide not to push Carter to talk about his father any more than he wants to say, so we stay clear of anything relating to our families. I was never one who was an expert on conversational habits, but I'm pretty sure telling a new friend about your motherless childhood and abusive, alcohol-addicted father wouldn't exactly be 'shooting the breeze'.
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I am currently lying on my fresh, clean sheets, looking up at the plain white ceiling. I feel like I could die of boredom right now. I had studied last night, four hours for an exam and decided that I would continue later today and Sunday. It was nice to be able to sleep past 7:30 for once. I mentally slap myself for signing up for classes that start at 8:00 instead of 9:30. I guess I never thought of sleeping when I applied for my classes last spring. I get less than eight hours of sleep on average.
And here I am now, trying to figure out what to do. I realized that I was running low on clothes so I decided to do some laundry, then I put my sheets in as well. I still couldn't cure my case of boredom, so I decided to reorganize and redecorate my side of the dorm room. I am OCD when it comes to organization; it pisses me off if even one thing does not have a designated spot. I resort to checking my social media apps on my phone. My fingers type in my four digit passcode, unlocking it. I login to Instagram and scroll through my feed.
A couple of people who I used to go to high school with are posting things about how hard college is or how they are enjoying their classes (I actually got along with some of these people. I respected them.) The diehard partiers of North Coast Central (my ex-high school) post photos relating to partying and all of their new friends (You should be able to conclude that I hated and stayed clear of these people.) About ten minutes later, I had finished checking Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. I'm not much of a social media person and I only check occasionally every couple of weeks. It gives me something to do when I'm bored. Did I mention that by the way, that I was bored, because I am so bored.
"I AM SO BORED!" I raise my voice, while slamming my hands down on the pillow.
"I think we got that." A voice says. I let out a startled scream and look in the direction of the voice. It doesn't take me long to realize that Carter is the one who spoke, and he is currently standing in the doorway.
"Don't you know how to knock?!" I ask, and get up from my place on the bed.
He shrugs, causing his white polo shirt to rise, showing off his toned tan abdomen. Cue the teenage hormones. "Your door was wide open, so I assumed that it was a free for all to come in kind of thing. And to think that I thought that you would be welcoming!"
"Maybe if you said 'hello' like a normal person, then I wouldn't have almost had a heart attack." I reply, crossing my arms at my stomach.
Carter goes over to my desk and takes a seat, managing to knock over my jar filled with pencils. "I take normal as an insult. I'm not normal."
I place the jar right side up and place all of my pencils, pens, and sharpies back where they were before. "Try ordinary."
"Uh-uh," He wiggles his finger in front of my face, scolding me as if I was a child who just broke a rule. "Extraordinary."
I scoff. "You're typical. Stereotypical."
"My looks are far from being typical or even stereotypical. It hurts me right here"- He points at his heart-" that you undermine my hotness."
"I never 'undermined your hotness', I am merely saying that you look like every other guy here."
"Oh, sweetheart. I saw you checking me out earlier." Carter smirks, showing his smile (his teeth would make a dentist envious.) His teeth are so white that they clash with his olive skin tone. See, I found one imperfection. Who am I kidding? I could name a dozen flaws that Carter Holmes has.
"Wha-No! I was not-"
"Shh..." He places his index finger to my lips, causing my face to heat up "Don't deny it. Don't lie to yourself. We both know the truth."
I push him away by his shoulders and mutter," Get over yourself. What are you even doing here?"
"What, you don't want to see your favorite person in the whole world?"
"I think you're mistaking yourself for Channing Tatum."
"Anyways, I am here to solve your boredom problem. We are going to the beach."
"We as in all of your friends?"
"No, we as in you and me. Just the two of us. Dos amigos!" Carter cups my shoulders with his hands.
"Oh, then I guess we can go...but wait what about the rules?"
"Rules are for chumps. Come on, live a little!"
"I don't know..." I say, overdramatically. We both know that I am going to go.
"Pwease," Carter pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. He gives me puppy dog eyes for emphasis.
"Fine." I sigh. I head around my room and grab the only swimsuit I own (a blue and white striped bikini). I also grab a bag filled with sunscreen, water bottles, a sweatshirt, cut off denim shorts, and a twenty dollar bill. I slide on my flip flops and walk out of the room behind Carter.
