“No, he just said he was a friend of yours and is moving his stuff in.”
Sometimes I forget that my college life has been so separate from my home life. But that’s what happens when you move too far away for your family to visit you regularly at university.
“What did he look like?”
“Tall. Big shoulders. Dark hair. Brown eyes.”
“That’d be Jude,” I answer. “Daire’s blond. But stay away from him—both of them, but especially Jude. He’s … not been the same since a bad break up, and he fucks around.”
Millie laughs, helping me finish my bed. “I like them broken. Means I can try to fix him.”
“Mills,” I growl.
“Kidding.” She bats her eyes. “But I can still look. I’m only human.”
I drop my head. Something tells me this is going to be a long ass year.
“I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.”
She pauses, giving me a funny look. “You don’t trust your own friend?”
“Not with you.”
She snorts, putting one of the pillowcases on. “I’m a big girl. You worry too much.” She tosses the pillow down and dances toward the door. She pauses, looking back at me. “I’m going to see if your hot friend needs any help.”
“Mills!” I yell after her, but she’s already bounding down the stairs.
I let my head fall back with a sigh. Finishing my bed, I figure I might as well help Jude too—and make sure he doesn’t hit on my sister while I’m at it.
Between the three of us—and four when Daire arrives—it doesn’t take long to get all of Jude’s stuff brought to his room. Afterwards, Millie heads out wanting to check out campus. I offered to go with her, but she didn’t want her big brother tagging along.
Plopping on the couch, I turn the TV on. It’s still on the Home and Garden Network my mom had it on this morning while she sipped her coffee. That already feels like a lifetime ago.
Jude comes downstairs and saunters over to where I am, taking the chair in the corner.
“Thanks again for offering me a room. I’m sick of the dorms.”
“They’re crowded,” I agree, watching him carefully.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Is this about your sister?”
“Why would it be about her?”
It totally is.
“I’m not going to go after your sister, dude.” He sounds sincere enough, but I see the look in his eyes—the one that says he’s attracted to her.
“She’s a good girl.”
He ignores that comment. “When are we throwing the first party?”
I rub a hand over my face, annoyed with myself, not him. I’ve never been much of a partier, but last year after my hookup with ‘Daisy’ I started throwing parties in the hopes that she’d show up. Every single time it ended with disappointment from me. Daisy never came, and I had to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing. I know that’s not true, though. She’s out there. I don’t want to consider the possibility that she graduated or transferred.
A part of me doesn’t want to continue the parties this year, that way I don’t have to deal with strangers in my space and things getting out of control. But I can’t say no. Not on the off chance that I finally find her.
“Let’s get through the first week of classes, and then Friday night it’s happening.”
Jude grins in triumph, rubbing his hands together. “Excellent.”
2
Ophelia
“I could get you your own apartment, sweetheart. Or even a house,” my father reminds me, looking around my shared dorm apartment with contempt. “Why you want to share a space with two other girls when you don’t have to is beyond me? Why couldn’t you have gone to Harvard? Or Yale? Aldridge is decent, but—”
I hold up a hand to shut him up. “Because I wanted a true college experience,” I explain about the dorm, “and this is the school I always wanted to attend. You know that.”
“John, leave her alone,” my mom speaks up from my room where she’s putting my clothes away. I told her a million times that I would do it, but she doesn’t trust me not to live out of boxes for the entirety of the school year, so she’s doing it herself.
“Don’t worry, sir,” my roommate Kenna wraps an arm around me, “we’ll take good care of her.” She’s referring to our other roomie, Li.
Originally it was Kenna, Li, and a girl named Rory until she moved in with her boyfriend last year, and I got paired up with them. Luckily, they’ve been great roommates and do their best to include me. It’s me who struggles when it comes to friendships. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had trouble on that front. Getting close to people isn’t the easiest for me.
My dad smooths his hand down the front of his suit—why he wore a full suit in August when it’s one-hundred degrees outside is beyond me. “I’m sure.” He sounds doubtful, eyeing Kenna with contempt, but she brushes it off easily. Not much ruffles her feathers.
I don’t know why my dad acts like Kenna and Li are beneath him. Both are from families almost as wealthy as ours, but if my dad hasn’t handpicked every single person in my life, then he doesn’t approve. Sometimes I think he’s that way because he’s protecting me; other times I’m convinced it’s because he’s embarrassed of me and wants to make sure that someone is on his payroll if I do or say something stupid.
Growing up, I was always different. Not in the ways one might want to think they’re unique. I struggled to learn certain things while others came incredibly easy. Making eye contact was near impossible and is still a struggle at times, and communicating can feel like pulling teeth.
It wasn’t until I was in my early teen years that I got my autism diagnosis.
Things started to make sense then, why I had my little quirks, but it also became a label I didn’t want to bear because I wanted to be seen as me. Sure, autism is a part of me, but so are so many other things. It’s just a piece, a tiny one among the puzzle that shapes me, but suddenly it felt like my entire being.
I felt like maybe my parents were ashamed that I wasn’t ‘normal’ like my brother or their friends’ kids, but what is normal? Does such a thing even exist?
Stepping out of my room with a yellow sweater, my mom holds it up. “Do you actually wear this? I’ve told you yellow isn’t your color.”
“Mom,” I groan. “I like it.” I swipe it from her and march past, hanging it in my closet.
Again, I know my mom doesn’t mean to be hurtful, but she is. I know much of the way she is, is because of how she was raised, but that doesn’t excuse her lack of tact.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs, picking up the next item in the box.
“Seriously, Mom. I can handle this.” I take the jacket from her. “You and Dad don’t need to stay.”
My freshman year I attended completely online from home because neither of them wanted to let me be on campus. I had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to transfer to campus last year. I struggle with learning, and passing tests can be damn near impossible even when I understand the material, but I wanted a normal experience … and a break from my parents. God love them, but the hovering can be way too much. Plus, I hate feeling like a disappointment, especially when my older brother is a whiz.