The king of everything

Chapter eight- Confessions in the dorm room

That evening, after my conversation with Hope, I walked back to the dorm with my mind racing. The crisp night air wasn't enough to cool the warm buzz that had settled inside me. I couldn't stop thinking about her—the way she opened up just a little, the touch of her hand, the way her eyes softened when she smiled at me. It was new, unfamiliar, and thrilling all at once.

When I pushed open the door to the dorm room, Sam was lounging on his bed, flipping through a textbook but clearly not paying much attention to it. He glanced up as I came in, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"You're back late," he said, a teasing smirk on his face. "Let me guess—it's that girl, isn't it?"

I chuckled, dropping my bag by the door and collapsing onto my bed. "What makes you say that?"

"Dude, you've had this goofy grin plastered on your face for the past week. It's pretty obvious." He sat up, leaning forward with interest. "So, who is she? Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?"

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn't really talked to anyone about Hope yet. It felt almost too personal, too fragile to share. But Sam was my roommate, and despite his sarcastic exterior, I knew he'd understand. He wasn't the type to judge, and besides, I could use some advice.

"Alright, fine," I said, sitting up and facing him. "Her name's Hope. We've been hanging out after class, and... I don't know, man. I think I like her."

Sam's eyes lit up with excitement, and he clapped his hands together. "Finally! I was wondering when you were gonna spill the beans. So, tell me everything. How'd you meet her? What's she like?"

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "We're in the same economics class. We didn't really talk at first, but then we started sitting next to each other. We've been hanging out more, grabbing coffee and stuff, and she's just... different, you know?"

"Different how?" Sam asked, leaning back against his pillow, clearly intrigued.

"She's smart, for one," I said, thinking back to all our conversations. "Like, really sharp. But it's more than that. She's just... real. We can talk about anything, and I feel like I don't have to pretend around her. She's had a tough past, but she doesn't let it define her. It's hard to explain, but there's something about her that just draws me in."

Sam gave a thoughtful nod. "Sounds like she's got you hooked."

"Yeah, I guess she does." I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. "The thing is, I don't know where I stand with her. I mean, we hang out all the time, and we've gotten pretty close, but I don't want to mess it up by telling her how I feel too soon."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Has she given you any signs? Like, do you think she feels the same way?"

I thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure. Sometimes it feels like she does. She opens up to me in ways I don't think she does with other people. But she's been through a lot, and I think she's still hesitant to let someone in completely."

"That makes sense," Sam said, nodding. "If she's been hurt before, she's probably just being cautious. But that doesn't mean she's not into you. It sounds like she's comfortable with you, and that's a big deal."

I leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, but how do I even bring it up? I don't want to scare her off or make things awkward."

"Well, you're not exactly subtle, man," Sam teased, grinning. "She probably already knows. But if you want my advice, just take it slow. Keep doing what you're doing, and let things develop naturally. If the connection's there—and it sounds like it is—she'll open up to you more in time."

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. "I just don't want to overthink it, but it's hard not to, you know?"

"Trust me, I get it," Sam said, his tone turning more serious. "But sometimes you have to let things unfold on their own. It sounds like she's worth the wait."

I nodded, appreciating the advice. "You're right. I'll just keep being there for her and see where things go."

Sam grinned again, his playful side reemerging. "Man, listen to you. All caught up in feelings and everything. Who knew you had it in you?"

I threw a pillow at him, laughing. "Shut up, dude."

He dodged the pillow, chuckling. "Hey, I'm happy for you, seriously. It's about time you found someone you actually like."

"Yeah, I think so," I said, smiling to myself.

For the rest of the night, we talked about everything and nothing—classes, football, random stories from Sam's life. But my mind kept drifting back to Hope, replaying our moments together and wondering what the next step would be.

As I lay in bed that night, staring up at the dark ceiling, I couldn't help but think about what Sam had said. Maybe I didn't need to rush anything. Hope had her walls, but I was starting to believe that she might be ready to let someone in.

And if I was that someone, I'd be ready to take things slow, to be there when she was ready.

The thought of it made me smile, and as sleep began to pull me under, one thing was clear: I wasn't going to give up on her. Not now, not after everything we'd shared. Hope was worth the wait.