You're The One For Me

Moving In

ALEXANDER'S P.O.V

I wipe my palms on my jeans as I sit in the back of the taxi, watching the grey flash by, watching others sitting and laughing.

I swallow. I'm not ready to go to King's College. I don't think I'm ready to face all those judgemental people, all the bullies or the eyes that watch when you're not looking.

But maybe that's just my anxiety. It would make a good excuse for my beating heart. So, yeah. It's totally my anxiety.

The taxi stops at a traffic light, the word STOP flashing at us.

I lean forward in my seat and top the driver's shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir," I say.

He grunts in acknowledgement.

"H-how far until we reach the college, exactly?"

His face softens. "Nervous, are we?"

I blush and nod as the blink word disappears and is exchanged with another blinking word: GO.

"Well, you've only got a twenty minute ride left. No need to worry."

I nod, giving a grateful smile.

I lean back in my seat and look out my window. There are many shops, stores, cafe's, restaurants, ect. . . I see a Hot Topic next to a book store called History's Got Its Eye On You. I know where I'll be going later. I see some other places like Starbucks, a movie theater, a comic book buildings and Basking Robin's, just to name a few.

I barely notice when the driver is tapping my shoulder, attempting to get my attention.

I clear my throat and let out a scratchy, "Yes?"

"We're here. I just thought you'd like to know. Would you like some help with your bags?" He offers me a generous smile, but I decline and say, "No, I wouldn't want to trouble you any further."

I hand the man a tip and slip out of the taxi, popping the trunk open so I can retrieve my suitcase, backpack, satchel and computer bag.

I close the trunk and get on the side walk. I wave as the taxi drives off and mixes in with the other cars from this big city.

I fell my heart pumping so I take a deep breath and turn to the building behind me. At the top it reads:
King's Dorm System

I take one more deep breath and walk myself in through the doors, my luggage lugging behind me.

I immediately see a desk towards the back of the lobby area. I walk to the desk and see a nice looking old woman.

"Um, hi, ma'am. I'm Alexander Anthony Hamilton. I'm the student who wrote about the hurricane experience from Nevis. I'm wondering where I'm suppose to be going. I'm sorta lost," I explain.

She smiles, her perfect teeth gleaming. "Oh, dear. It's my job to help lost students. I'm Martha." She holds her hand out.

"Alexander. Which you already know because of a few seconds ago. . ." I trail off lamely. Nice first impression, Hamilton.

She laughs as she digs through stacks of papers. After a moment, she grins bigger. "Ah, here we are."

Martha hands me a piece of paper with some information about a boy named John Laurens and a key with my room number which turns out to be 176.

"You'll be on the left side of the building with the first seven hundred students. Don't worry," she adds, seeing the nervous look on my face, "the dorm rooms are very spacious."