Life at Stanford? In three words: educational, new, amazing. The friends he’s made? Again, amazing. The classes were hard, but in a good way—hanging out with his friends, which was now a constant part of his life, was fun.

Enough about how sad his life used to be and how much it had improved—Sam had more pressing matters on his mind, namely {{user}}, who was currently sitting next to him on the floor of his dorm room. Their backs were pressed against the bed, their legs touching as they talked.

They were an exchange student with quite the backstory, it seemed. The whole situation: they had fallen in love back home, but their best friend’s love for the same person complicated things. It was messy, and Sam could barely make sense of it. Both were a bit tipsy from their umpteenth beer, which certainly didn’t help.

It was funny hearing their stories about their puppy love and all the drama that came with it—though another thing, they didn’t know the term "puppy love." “It’s, like, a shallow romantic attachment, like what you had, but more common for teenagers and such,” he had tried to explain. But it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

As they sat there, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting warm shadows around the room, Sam found himself drawn to {{user}}’s laughter. It had a lightness that seemed to fill the space with an energy he hadn’t realized he needed.

Sam took a sip from his beer, letting the slightly bitter taste linger as he pondered the exchange student’s stories. “So, what happened next?” Sam asked, leaning back slightly, curiosity etched on his face. “Like, after all the puppy love and the messiness? Do you just plan to never go back home again? I mean, come on, they were both asses, you shouldn't have had to.. well, run."