I wanted to go on Saturdays, my answer never changed: an art museum. I lived and breathed art. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much talent for creating art but I loved studying it. I read the biographies of painters for fun. I may have been the only twelve year-old in the country to ask for a subscription to an art criticism journal for her birthday. The only major I could ever see myself pursuing was art history. I already knew I was going to have to do well enough to get into a competitive graduate program as well as maintain my existing scholarship.
As soon as he saw an opening, my dad pulled up to the curb in front of the dorm. He hopped out of the car and popped the trunk open. I followed. I felt a little bit of panic as he removed all of my belongings from the back of his SUV and placed them on the sidewalk. The act seemed so final. I was no longer under his protective wing. He was pushing me out of the nest. I just hoped I could actually fly.
When he placed the last box on the curb, my dad gave me a kiss on the check. “I’ll be right back. Wait right here.”
I stood next to my pile of boxes and watched as all of the other freshman and their parents frantically unpacked cars and trucks and hauled their stuff into the dorms. A perky young woman, who looked to be about twenty-five, approached. She was carrying an iPad and a sheet of printed name tags.
“I’m Emily Dickinson,” she said.
I blinked wondering if I had heard her correctly.
She chuckled. “My parents are both professors here. English, obviously. I’m a graduate. I now work as the Residence Hall Director.”
I nodded.
“If you tell me your name, I can check you off the list and give you a name tag. And then I’ll go in and get your key.”
“Rainy Dey,” I said and cringed a bit. I hated introducing myself to people. “That’s D—E —Y.”
Emily tried to stifle a smile. “And I thought my parents were sadistic naming me Emily Dickinson.”
“It was my mom’s idea. She loved rainy days and she told my dad she wanted to make sure people always remembered my name.”
Emily nodded like she completely understood. She typed my name into her iPad then removed my pre made name tag off of a sheet and handed it to me. I stuck it on my shirt.
“I’ll be right back with your key,” she said. “Your roommate, Olivia, has already checked in. She’s around here somewhere. I’m sure you’ll run into her.” Emily gave me a big smile then headed toward the dorm.
I could feel my heart racing. Why was I so nervous? Thousands of eighteen-year olds did exactly what I was doing every fall. Most of them survived and even prospered in their new surroundings. Rationally, I
knew I would do just fine but I was still anxious.
I saw two gorgeous guys heading in my direction and wondered why. The first guy was big, like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. He obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. His white polo short fit snugly on his huge arms and chest. When he stopped a few inches from me, I gulped. He towered over all five foot four inches of me by nearly a foot. I only weighed about 115 pounds and he could have easily been double my weight. His dirty blond hair was cropped close to his head and he looked down at me with dazzling green eyes.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Need some help with those boxes?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak. He was so intimidating. I wondered if there was a hole in the ground close by that I
could just crawl into.
Then I noticed his friend standing next to him. When our eyes met, I could feel my breath catch. He had almond-shaped chocolate brown eyes that immediately made me want to melt. His dark brown hair was nearly shoulder length. He was a little shorter than The Rock standing next to him but still about six feet tall. He was muscular and fit but not to the extreme of his friend. The guy could have been the most beautiful person I had ever seen. The Rock was good looking but there was something special about the brown-eyed boy that was so captivating, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him.
Once I was able to escape from his