Only Him

Chapter 1: First Day of College Life

"Ugh. Seriously?" I groaned, kicking the tangled sheets off my body. 

My skin was clammy, a mix of sweat and that lingering 18th-year-old boy musk that no amount of body spray seemed to conquer. The sunlight piercing in the window mocked my failed attempt at a "chill first day of college" aesthetic. My planned entrance to Psychology had been brutally murdered by a forgotten alarm and a desperate scramble for a semi-clean t-shirt.

My backpack, already overflowing with textbooks that cost more than my entire wardrobe, threatened to explode as I shoved in the last-minute essentials - a crumpled notebook, a leaky pen, and a half-eaten bag of gummy bears for an emergency sugar rush.  

A silent prayer escaped my lips – please, no visible sweat stains, please – as I dashed out the door, the scent of burnt toast and my mom's "Good luck, sweetie!" echoing faintly behind me.

My parents were probably already halfway to Machu Picchu by now, their ridiculously oversized car– they affectionately called "The Beast" – eating up the miles. I caught a glimpse of its gleaming silvery black exterior on the security cam footage streaming onto my phone. One day, I swore, I'd be the one behind the wheel of that beast. But today, my chariot was a slightly less than noble taxi, its faded upholstery and questionable air freshener doing little to soothe my first-day jitters.

Twenty minutes later, Seneca International Academy loomed before me like a fortress of knowledge, all intimidating brick walls and imposing arches. My stomach churned with a potent cocktail of caffeine withdrawal and the sheer terror of being thrown into a sea of unknown faces.

The taxi driver gave me a knowing smirk. "First day, huh?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

I could only nod, my throat too dry to form a coherent response. Earbuds in, I blasted my go-to true-crime podcast, the gruesome details of a particularly bizarre murder case serving as a temporary distraction from the impending doom of orientation.

Finally, the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the university gates. I fumbled with the crumpled bills, threw a hasty "keep the change" over my shoulder, and practically sprinted towards the entrance, my backpack bouncing against my spine like an overeager puppy.

The security checkpoint added another layer of stress to my already frazzled nerves. I handed over my backpack, my mind conjuring up mortifying headlines: "Freshman Detained for Smuggling Contraband Candy." The guard, a stern-faced man with a resemblance to a bulldog, scrutinized my belongings with an intensity that made me want to melt into the pavement.

"You're clear," he grunted finally, handing back my backpack with a thud.

"Thanks," I mumbled, offering a weak smile that probably looked more like a grimace. I stepped through the gates and into the lion's den.

The lobby was a dizzying expanse of polished marble and soaring windows, making me acutely aware of my wrinkled t-shirt and the questionable stain on my jeans. Beyond the pristine glass doors, the campus unfolded like a sprawling metropolis, a maze of pathways, manicured lawns, and tall modern buildings that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. I squinted at the campus map clutched in my trembling hand, feeling utterly lost in this academia.

"New scholars of the Coliseum, let your presence be known!" a booming voice echoed through the loudspeakers "Esteemed alumni, hasten to your designated halls of learning!"

The Coliseum. That's where I needed to be.

I joined the equally disoriented freshmen, following the flow of bodies like a salmon swimming upstream. The Coliseum, thankfully, wasn't hard to find. It resembled a giant airplane hangar, its cool, air-conditioned interior a welcome refuge from the sweltering heat. I collapsed into the nearest empty seat, my legs still trembling from the mad dash across campus.