trigger warning
Boston was more beautiful than I could ever imagine. I found myself actually wanting to go outside, breathe in the new, unfamiliar air, feel the sensation of the autumn sun draping across my skin. This entirely new environment caused inspiration to pour out of me. I was constantly hunched over my computer, fingers flying across the keyboard almost unable to keep up with every new idea that my mind conjured up.
My roommate, Willow, was a theatre major, so she was constantly spending time in the auditorium rather than our shared dorm. I wasn't complaining, though. A slightly cracked window, lit candles, lights framed around the window, and a cup of coffee beside me was the perfect ambiance for writing and researching for my next article.
The rules for hanging things on walls were pretty strict around here. No pinning or puncturing walls, no adhesives that would leave a residue, no nails or pins, etc. But I simply could not work in an environment without at least some Polaroids hanging up, so I chose a select few and simply Scotch-taped them to my side of the room. Specifically, right above my desk. It was the place my eyes intended to wander when experiencing writer's block- it wasn't much help to consult a blank wall for ideas, but when you look up and get reminded of the things you love most in the world, it's much easier to continue on.
One of the reasons why I chose to go to school out-of-state was for the new beginnings. I knew that I would never have to see the people who made high school so miserable ever again, and I would never have to be reminded of the awful experiences that took place within those halls. Emerson meant that I could have a brand-new start, and I was taking full advantage of that.
Only two weeks into classes starting, I've made at least a dozen new acquaintances. I know all the names of the fellow students in my Residency Hall. More often than not, we would study in each other's rooms and end up talking about our social lives rather than actually having our faces stuffed in overpriced textbooks. Most people here were Journalism and Communication majors, making it extremely easy to meet people with common interests.
One of those people being Wyatt, a fellow freshman who had moved here all the way from California. Having multiple classes together, we found ourselves studying and helping each other with homework and essays almost every day after class. We would take turns buying each other coffee or choosing where we would study. Wyatt loved studying outside, taking in inspiration from the passing students. But, with the temperatures at just about freezing, I tended to gravitate towards the library; which was hands down the quietest, warmest, and most comfortable place on campus.
Out of all the people I've met here, Wyatt was hands-down the person I've clicked the most with. He actually listens and absorbs information. He's not a douchey frat boy or overachieving scholar. He's just an easy-going guy who shared many of my interests- photography, writing, sunrises, the lot. The best way to describe Wyatt would be a preppy-grunge boy. Grown-out, curly blonde hair, tired hazel eyes, and multiple rings on each finger. He wore a hunter green canvas jacket every day, completed with hand-sewn patches and a few rips on here and there.
It was a Friday night. Everyone was planning on going to the Sigma Alpha Epsilon party tonight- supposedly it's one of the biggest frat parties of the year, celebrating the beginning of a new school year. From what I've heard around campus, an invite to the Sigma Alpha party was an "honor". It was all everyone talked about in all of my classes. Who slept with who to get an invite? Who's gonna be there? How long will it go on before getting shut down?
Being an out-of-state freshman, I would have never expected to be invited to this stupid fucking party. Over the past few weeks, Willow had been prodding me with questions about whether or not I would go. After telling her multiple times that I had absolutely zero interest in getting shitfaced with a house full of people I didn't know in the slightest, Willow still somehow convinced her boyfriend, Josh, to get me an invite.
