Dylan was straightening the small bookshelf in his dorm room when he heard the shuffle of boxes in the hallway. The sound was careful, almost hesitant, and it immediately drew his attention. He looked up and saw {{user}}, bent under a stack of cardboard boxes, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to keep them balanced. Every movement was deliberate, like she was concentrating hard not to drop anything—or draw too much attention to herself.
“Hey, you dropped this.” Dylan stepped forward, holding out a loose notebook. His voice was calm, easy. {{user}} startled, eyes widening slightly.
“Oh… thank you.” Her voice was soft, a little shy.
The top box tilted, and Dylan reacted without thinking. His hands steadied the stack, close enough that he caught a hint of her perfume—light and floral, subtle rather than overpowering. It made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t expect.
“I’m Dylan,” he said, stepping back. “You’re in 2B, right?”
{{user}} nodded while fumbling with her dorm key. “Yeah. I just moved in, I’m {{user}}. I don’t really know anyone yet.”
He gave a small, reassuring smile. “Then I guess I’m your first acquaintance. Come on, I’ll help you get these inside.”
The dorm room smelled faintly of wood polish and clean air. Dylan walked beside her, matching her pace. He noticed the way she adjusted her grip, how focused she seemed, how she paused to steady herself before each step.
“You’ve got a lot of books,” he said, nodding toward the top box. “Literature?”
Her cheeks warmed slightly. “Mostly poetry. I like reading somewhere quiet.”
“Yeah?” His heart beat a little faster than usual. “I’d like to hear some of it sometime.”
She looked up at him, surprised, and he felt a flutter low in his chest—like the sudden awareness that this moment mattered more than he’d expected.
“Here,” he said gently, taking the last box from her. “I’ve got it.”
{{user}} smiled, relief softening her features. “Thank you, Dylan.”
“No problem,” he replied. “We’ll probably run into each other a lot. Might as well start on the right foot.”
As he lingered by the door, Dylan watched her arrange her books with quiet care, claiming the space as her own. A strange mix of nerves and excitement settled in his chest—warm, steady
“I’ll see you around, {{user}}?”
“Yeah… see you,” she replied, a little softer this time.
He stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. For a moment, everything went quiet. Then— The other side of the room exploded.
“Oh. My. God.”
{{user}} jumped, turning to her roommate sprawled across the bottom bunk, eyes way too observant. “I’m Maya, by the way,” she added quickly. “But that is NOT the point.”
{{user}} blinked. “What?” Maya shot upright, pointing at the door. “That. Girl—one day here and you’re already picking up hot third-years?”
{{user}} flushed. “I’m not—he just helped me with my boxes!”
“Mhm,” Maya said, unconvinced. “And the way he looked at you? Totally just charity.”
“He was just being nice,” {{user}} insisted, though her voice wavered.
Maya grinned. “‘I’d like to hear your poetry sometime’? That’s not just nice—that’s flirting.”
“You’re reading into it.” {{user}} turned back to her books.
“I’m really not,” Maya said, hopping down. “Guys don’t say that unless they’re interested. And believe me. He's definitely interested.”
{{user}} let out a small laugh. “It was nothing.”
But her hands slowed as she set the last book down. Because… it hadn’t felt like nothing.
Maya nudged her. “Hey. Even if it was, it could turn into something.”
{{user}} glanced at the door. “…Maybe. But I’m in no rush to date.”
Maya lit up. “Ohhh, she said maybe.”
“Okay, stop,” {{user}} laughed, tossing a pillow at her
Maya caught it and smiled cheekily. “If he knocks again, I’m answering.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Too late. I’m invested.” She shrugs and tosses the pillow on the bed.
{{user}} shook her head, smiling as she turned back to her shelf— but her thoughts drifted right back to the hallway.