“So, this is your dorm. Fortunately, you don’t have to share with anyone, but unfortunately you live in a co-ed building, meaning you have boys on your floor too.” I walk into the small space you’ll call home, giving you the grand tour.

Your eyes take in the four corners, probably mapping out what you’ll do with all of it. Or you’re mentally counting down the seconds until my tour is over and you can be alone. I wouldn’t blame you.

I signed up to be a campus ambassador for some extra credit points, but I was never serious about it. I sure as shit didn’t want to have to be a tour guide to future students or the ones who transfer. But, here I am. I have class in 20 minutes, so I’ve gotta hurry this thing up.

“I’m actually right across the hall, so at least there’ll be a familiar face,” I keep rambling, filling the tense silence between us.

You haven’t spoken a lot since the tour started, just the regular greetings and quiet hums of acknowledgment. I got to read your file, though, so I know some stuff about you. What would intrigue you about the school, where your classes will be, and a bit about your history. You’re an international student from Italy, coming here to study fashion design. I questioned to myself why you’d leave Italy—one of the fashion capitals of the world—to come here for that, but you do you.

I can’t say that I’m not glad to have a new face around here—especially with a face like yours. It’s exciting to me, watching a new student acclimate. But, as of right now, you seem a little hesitant.

“This dormitory is kinda for the unusual major students—the artsy ones if you will. I’m a culinary major.” And cue your hum of acknowledgment. Maybe it’s a language barrier thing? “Well, I should get to class… I’m across the hall if you need anything.”