Creased Confessions

Chapter 1

*Elliot's POV*

My heart was a symphony of nerves and excitement as Dad's old station wagon rolled onto the sun-dappled campus of Whitewater College. Each turn revealed red-brick buildings cloaked in ivy and groups of students who seemed as eager as they were confident, filling the windows with scenes from a collegiate life that had, until today, existed only in my daydreams.

We parked near the freshman dorm, and Mom's voice, laced with a mix of pride and melancholy, pulled me back to reality. "Here we are, Elliot! Your new home for the next four years." Her smile was both proud and wistful, stirring a bittersweet ache in my chest. I nodded, the lump in my throat growing as I managed a tight smile back.

Dad opened the trunk, and together, we began unloading my world—boxes of books, a couple of cherished posters, and the old guitar that had seen me through countless nights back home. Each item was a piece of my past and a tentative step into my future.

As we lugged my belongings to the third floor, the ambient sounds of the dorm—a cacophony of laughter, music, and distant conversations—washed over me. The corridors buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet of my room back home. I paused, leaning against the cool wall, absorbing the energy around me. I was on the brink of something new, something big.

Setting down a box labeled 'Elliot's Essentials,' I caught sight of the check-in table manned by none other than the resident advisor I had heard about in the welcome email—Jamie Walker. He was charismatic even from a distance, handling a flurry of questions with a calm smile and an ease that I envied.

Taking a deep breath, I approached, my steps hesitant. As I neared, Jamie looked up, his gaze meeting mine. "Name?" he asked, his voice friendly yet efficient.

"Elliot James," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, betraying my nervousness. I noticed my hands were trembling slightly as I handed over my ID.

Jamie's fingers brushed against mine as he took the card, and he offered a reassuring smile. "Welcome to Whitewater, Elliot. You're in room 308. It's a great spot—nice view of the quad." He handed me a small envelope containing my room key and a few informational pamphlets.

"Thanks," I managed to say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I was painfully aware of how awkward I must have appeared, fumbling with the envelope as I tried to slot it into my pocket.

"No problem," Jamie replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners in what I interpreted as a mix of amusement and kindness. "If you need anything, or just want to talk, my door is always open. Room 101, right at the end of the hall."

I nodded, grateful for the gesture, though unsure if I'd ever have the courage to take him up on the offer. "I might just do that," I said, surprising myself with the notion of actually engaging further.

As I turned to join my parents, who were waiting with the last of my boxes, I felt Jamie's eyes on me, and something like anticipation fluttered in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, this place could become a home.

I walked to room 303, key in hand, my thoughts buzzing with Jamie's parting words and the quick, warm smile he had given me. My nerves were still humming as I unlocked the door, wondering what awaited me inside my new living space.

The door swung open to reveal a room already half-filled with posters, electronic gadgets, and a small mountain of sports equipment. My gaze landed on a guy about my age, standing on a chair, taping a large poster of a basketball player to the wall. He turned at the sound of the door, hopping down with a grin.

"Hey! You must be Elliot, right? I'm Chris," he said, stretching out a hand, his demeanor as vibrant as the posters on his wall. His handshake was firm and friendly, a stark contrast to my own tentative grip.