Sometimes he loves me

CHAPTER 2

EMMA 

Present

Driving into the campus parking lot, I angrily clench my hands around the steering wheel. My breathing is shallow as Falling in Reverses' "Popular Monster" blasts through my speakers. I try to drum my cramped fingers along to the beat of the music to contain my anger. I don't want to spend my first hours on campus feeling like this. I want to be happy, just like everyone else around me, but I just can't help it.
I step out of the car and try not to pay attention to the people walking around me, but from the corner of my eye I see students standing with their parents. Some saying goodbye and others helping to lug their baggage into the building. My anger makes way for sadness, which I quickly push away.
I slam my car door shut and open the door to the back seat where I only have one box of clothing and some diaries. I never owned much and never really cared.
I throw my bag over my shoulder and grab the box, shutting the door with my elbow.
My parents were at the pub when I loaded my stuff in the car. They probably forgot I was moving to my new room at UOL today, which shouldn't surprise me. I don't understand why I'm still mad, I know better than to expect anything of them. They didn't even attend my graduation two months ago, too drunk to even sit up straight.
I put the box down and look at my headphone that is hanging around my neck, but I see it's empty. I sigh in frustration because I forgot to charge it. There is something so soothing about listening to music as I drag myself through places where there are a lot of people. It makes the world seem less scary.
I blow out air, hanging the now useless thing around my neck again and prepare myself for walking through a crowd without the distraction of my music. My anger and irritation might win from my anxiety and nerves anyway.
I grab the box again and make my way to the massive building with fake confidence.
I try not to make eye contact with anyone, but subconsciously my gaze moves to the people that are walking in and out the building. Some are new and others have probably lived here for a while, since this campus provides a room for students for the duration of their education. That is exactly what I need, to get away from the shithole I used to call home.
I halt in front of a staircase and awkwardly snake one hand into my pocket while I still try to keep a hold of the box with my other. I take a quick glance at the note to check the room I'm renting. B13. I keep repeating it in my head as I start to walk up the stairs.
I nearly bump into a group of guys that are coming down. They hardly pay attention and one or two mumble an apology as they walk past and fall back into their conversation. My senses become hyper-vigilant anyway and a panic attack is already waiting for a chance to take over me.
They're looking at you. Act normal. Stop walking like that, you look weird.
Thoughts fill my head, reminding me why I hate a place full of people. Why I hate people in general, and why I hate going anywhere without my headphones on.
I keep my gaze down and try not to make eye contact with any of them, fully focused on the steps underneath my feet, suddenly worried I'll trip and fall. From the corner of my eye I see one of the guys slow down and eventually stop a few steps above me.
Walk normal, look normal, just walk past him.
"Do you need help with that box, Darling?"
My gaze shoots up and I look at him without really seeing anything before averting my eyes again. He's tall, that's all I could take in.
"No thank you," I mumble before quickly pushing past him.
I feel like my heart wants to push through my chest and it makes me nauseous. I hate my fucking social anxiety. Talking to strangers feels like an out of body experience most of the time. I can't even think or look someone straight in the eyes for fucks sake. What the hell is wrong with me?
With my heart hammering inside my chest and burning cheeks, I follow the signs to B13 and put the box on the floor to take my key from my jacket. I picked it up at the front desk of the main building before driving to campus.
Suddenly everything I do seems foreign. I take a quick look back at the staircase and see the guy still standing there, watching me intently. He lifts his chin, making a short strain of his dark hair fall loose from the little bun at the back of his head. Then he suddenly looks away, walking after his friends.
My hands are shaking as I unlock the door, which squeaks as I open it. The setting sun shines brightly through the window, making me narrow my eyes. Closing the door behind me, I look around and take in my new home for the upcoming four years. The walls are white with cracks and holes from all the posters and pins that hung there from previous students. There's a small desk in the left corner and a bed underneath the window with a pile of clean bed linen on top of it, as described in the brochure.
I set the box and my bag down and throw my headphones on the desk. I can already hear Vincent, my boyfriend, make fun of how small the room is, but it's either this or staying with my parents and I just can't take that anymore.
I look at my watch and see it's almost six o'clock. I wanted to be here two hours ago, but was stupid enough to wait for my parents to come home, which they did not.
I walk to the bed and take off my black boots, throwing them to the side. I then grab the pile of bedding and force myself to make the bed, ignoring how tired I am. My eyes feel heavy from this stressful day and I'm desperate for a nap.
When I'm finally done with the bed I let myself fall on the mattress and close my eyes. I feel the anger, frustration and sadness flow from my body and listen to the sounds around me.
I hear birds chirping and people laughing through the thin walls about some game they are playing. The smell of pasta hits me and makes my stomach growl, so I make a mental note not to forget to run some errands later.
Knowing I can sleep for a short period of time, the anxious feeling in my chest slowly recedes. My breathing slows down and I fall into an exhausted sleep, dreaming about pasta and my stuff I have yet to unpack.