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Past: 2

Unpacking is much harder than I thought. I keep struggling to decide where I should put which items I have brought with me. At least all of my clothes are now successfully stored in the ancient, dusty cabinet beside my bed. Maybe my festive mugs can be placed on my desk, or maybe on the...

"You're my roommate, huh?" says a man with a raspy voice, interrupting my thoughts.

I turn around to meet the source of the voice—it's a freakishly tall, skinny guy with almond-shaped eyes. His blonde hair looks like it's always been a mess.

"Yeah. I'm Troye." I say as I get up slowly, trying my best to ignore the pain I'm experiencing due to squatting on the floor for the last hour. "And you are?" I extend my hand to him.

"Caspar." He reaches out to my hand, forming a solid handshake. Then, he turns around to his side of the room. "As you can see." He says and points his index finger to the huge poster I saw earlier.

"Oh, right. Caspar." Or should I say the one who is narcissistic enough to claim his territory from day one.

"Yeah. Where you from, man?" He whips his head around to face me again.

"Australia. You?"

"South Africa. But I moved to the States when I was fourteen." He shrugs. "The food's much better here, but I'm losing my accent."

"Why is it bad?"

He plops down on his bed and lets out a huge sigh. "Accents are the best way to pick up chicks, man!" He exclaims.

"Oh. I see." Of course he's the kind of guy who hooks up with a bunch of girls and, possibly, gets illegally drunk while doing so.

"You're lucky to still have that—you know—", he snaps his fingers, "kangaroo mystery going on."

I wrinkle my nose. "Kangaroo mystery? What is that?"

"See? You don't even know!" He laughs at his own attempt at joking. "It's a mystery." He adds while shaking his head between fits of self-induced laughter.

"Valid point." I muster.

A silence then ensues between us. "Hey, are you coming to the barbeque thing?" I ask after it's becoming awkward.

"Nah, don't think so. I've got this Alpha Zeta..." His forehead creases. "Well, whatever that frat's name is." He says after giving up on recalling.

"Cool." I nod my head and start to unpack more of my stuff and putting everything to their temporary places.

"Hey, wanna come with?" Caspar suddenly offers.

"To the party?" I turn, facing him again—who is now lying on his bed. Honestly, I think parties are the worst. They tire you out and it's all because you chose to come to an event that would make you dance in a sea of people with sweaty armpits.

"Yeah! Why not?" He looks at me and grins widely.

"I just, um..." I quickly begin to formulate a perfect excuse. "It's just that... I have promised my friend that I would meet him there. At the barbeque." I lie—kind of. Connor's not really my friend, right?

"We'll swing by the barbeque. I doubt that the frat will provide actual food and I'm starving." Caspar grins, acting as if he just gave the world's greatest advice of all time.

I smile tightly. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too."

"Awesome, then!" He props himself back up again swiftly and grabs his jacket by the hanger near him. "Let's go, let's go!" He says while clapping loudly, surprising me in the process.