[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Chapter Twenty-one | A Toast and a Spirit
♫A Toast and a Spirit by Vacation Manor
I usually opt for longer coats and jackets when I shop. They make me feel a lot more comfortable with walking in public, because they give me the idea of my legs being hidden away and in turn, people not staring at me as much.
Unfortunately, due to my hot chocolate incident, I had no choice but to take my trusty long coat to a dry-cleaning place somewhere in Hudson Yards (crazy expensive, too), and now, on the day of my long-awaited gait analysis, despite the extreme cold and the travel required, I'm forced to do without.
"Do I look okay?" I turn to Olivia, who just got back from a class and is switching out textbooks at her desk before she heads out for her next one. I spread my arms and twist to show her my outfit.
She turns to study me, standing on her tiptoes to reach a red hardcover, and nods. "This'll look cute with your Converses," she says.
I take her advice and collapse onto my desk chair to struggle with the loose fabric of my All Stars. They have long, thin laces, which doesn't go well with my fingers and is probably not a good idea for a medical thing where I'll have to pull my shoes on and off again a thousand times, but that's an issue for later.
Olivia's eyes flicker around our dorm and her eyebrows knit together when she doesn't find what she's looking for. "Have you seen my Global Works and Society textbook?" She asks me, running a hand through her hair.
"Antiquity, you mean? Or the spring semester one?"
"No, Antiquity. I had it two days ago but can't find it."
"Look in your left drawer underneath your bed, the top one. I think I saw it when you told me I could borrow your conditioner."
Olivia pulls the drawer open and extracts the book with two hands, kissing the hardcover before shoving it into her backpack. "Okay, thanks, Nov. I'm out." She rushes out of our dorm within mere seconds after that.
It comforts me that Olivia seems to experience as much stress as I do. NYU's most distinctive feature, of having all their first-year students follow the same oriental courses before letting them pick a major (also often called a 'direction'), has worked in my favor so far. I've known that I want to do something with Liberal Arts and Sciences, especially in the 'direction' of the Media, Culture and Communication department, but for now I'm glad to know I'm in the same boat as my dormmate and friends.
I stand in front of Olivia's full-body mirror to inspect myself before I go. Olivia let me borrow a cross-body handbag of hers to stuff my essentials in, so I don't have to drag my bookbag with me.
I glance at the time. It would probably be wise to be on my way, but part of me wants to see Logan first. My gait analysis is not at the Brooklyn Medical Center, but a bigger (more established) hospital somewhere in Upper Manhattan, so his dormitory is on the way. Besides, I also feel like I've been neglecting him. A lot's been going on with me, but now that I know a lot's going on with him, too, I don't feel right using it as an excuse.
