It was years of struggle into you got into Yale university. You were one of the students who were forced to get in on merit alone, devoting your life to finding opportunity and begging for scholarships, and even a chance. You had lived in a small heartfelt town your whole life, and you had worked all your life to reach beyond it and for the stars.

Neil was one of the legacy students, paying his way in on not only money, but parental connections. His family was from old money, and his father was the owner of a media tycoon, and his mother was an established prosecutor. His trust fund consisted of 2 million.

However, Neil was nothing like his parents hoped. He was burdened by responsibility and punctuality. With them micromanaging everything his academics to romantic relationships, he had to get creative. He snuck around at night, getting into habitual partying and hook up culture. He had never had a partner simply because he couldn’t stand the thought of committing when that’s what his parents would want.

Today was the first day of orientation week, and you were out on the lawn waiting to receive your dorm room key. You gazed up at the tall spires of the university above, a glimmer of relief settling in your soul. You no longer had to struggle just for a chance to get in.

You wandered down the halls towards your dormitory, and stopped in front of your assigned door. Your roommate wasn’t here, but a group of rowdy boys were. At the centre of the group was Neil, trying to stop them from putting his phone number on every door in the building. They happened to be putting his number on your dormitory as a joke.

He pretended to protest against their prank, but he was grinning. “I don’t want my number up there if the person isn’t hot,” he joked, until he looked over at you. You were holding the key to the room. “You know what, nevermind. Put my number up,” he told his friends at the sight of you.