Falling For Storm

Amara

I stood in awe in front of the dormitory I’d be staying in starting today and for the rest of my university life. I know that Duke University isn’t considered an Ivy League school, but I was still very lucky and very grateful that I landed a full scholarship, considering that they only accept about six students per year in the department I was going to be a part of. My admission was more of a shock than a piece of wonderful news when I received the acceptance letter. I applied, knowing full well that I wouldn’t make it at all. It was more of a spur of the moment or slight insanity that drove me to apply. More importantly, I was neither the smartest nor the most talented one in the family, as my older sister kept reminding me every chance she got, and yet here I was.

Speaking of my sister, we weren’t really close, and we had this constant hate relationship ever since we were young. It was no secret that she hated my guts because, according to her, I wasn’t normal and, therefore, there was a need for her to bully me all the freaking time. We were so different from each other, as in, pretty much opposites. She’s 5 feet, 7 inches tall, blond, pretty, a high school cheerleader, popular, hates studying, and has had one too many boyfriends. I, on the other hand, am a brunette, about 5 feet, 5 inches tall, average-looking, awkward as hell, who buries herself in art and books and has never had a boyfriend since birth. The only common thing we have is that we both have blue eyes, though mine are a darker shade.

Anyway, being here to pursue my dreams and earn my Ph.D. in Art History and Visual Studies someday, not to mention the fact that I was so far away from home, meant so much to me. It was just a school campus, but it was a piece of heaven to me simply because I had the impression that I was finally making the right decisions for my future. It was going to be a long journey. I guessed that much, but I was willing to do whatever I could to enjoy every experience. I was both excited and scared, but somehow I had this gut feeling that everything was going to work out.

Once I was done admiring everything my eyes landed on, I walked inside the building with luggage in tow. Of course, there were students everywhere. Some were talking in groups, and others were running about. And as I continued to observe my surroundings, I was getting this vibe that this was a movie scene where the main character was about to embark on a cheesy adventure with an impossibly hot dude who was probably too good for her, complete with a musical background of all sorts, of course. And was I the main character in the movie? You bet your ass, minus the impossibly hot dude, though. Yeah, yeah, I know I have a strange imagination, and maybe I should stop reading so many romance novels and watching sappy chick flicks because it seemed to be affecting my perception of reality, but in my defense, that was also where my creative juices came from.

I snapped out of my daydreaming and climbed two flights of stairs, walked aimlessly down the hall, exchanged polite smiles, and read each door’s room number until I finally found room 205, and I suddenly felt all giddy, imagining what I’d actually find once I stepped inside. This was it, I thought to myself. This was my new beginning, waiting to unfold, so I took a deep breath and lightly knocked four times to let whoever, if ever there was someone in there know that I was about to come in. I waited for a bit and didn’t hear anyone, so I simply went in to start getting settled. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the room was spacious enough for two people. It had two beds, two study tables, two wardrobe closets, and a large window. The walls were painted white, which created the illusion that it was bigger than it actually was. Oddly, it looked pretty cozy considering how bare the walls were.

I slowly looked around, imagining what I’d like my side of the room to look like, then I noticed the bed to the right already had things scattered on it. I guess my roommate had arrived and could have just gone somewhere. Judging from the things piled up on top of each other, she probably liked heavy metal and big bikes. Also, most of the stuff she owned was either red or black, which I found interesting in a good kind of way. You see, most of the girls I knew back home act and dress pretty much the same way. They loved brightly colored clothes and diet Coke and constantly talked about what was “in” at the moment. Whoever didn’t do what they did was automatically an outcast, which to me was so lame. I was one of the outcasts, but it was more because my sister made sure that I became one, so it was sort of refreshing to know that my would-be roommate was going to be different. At least that was what I was hoping for.

Bending down, I picked up the lone black leather jacket that was lying on the floor and placed it on the bed, and as if on cue, the door opened, revealing an attractive, confident-looking girl. She didn’t completely look like someone who caused a lot of trouble, but I could somehow sense that she was a force to be reckoned with. She had long black hair, gray eyes, the face of an angel, curvy hips, and that vibe that says, “I’m nice, but I could be your worst nightmare.” Oh, and we were about the same height. I immediately thought to myself that she was a total knockout, so I probably looked dull next to her. She was a total badass, while I was a plain Jane.

She gave me a confident smile as soon as she saw me before walking toward me. “Oh hey, roomie! I’m Dakota. Dakota Black, and you must be Amara Montgomery,” she smoothly stated, putting her hand in between us for me to shake. “Hi, and yup, that’s me,” I cheerfully answered. “Awesome, I hope you don’t mind me choosing this side first, but if you want to switch-”

“Oh, no, no. This side is fine; any side will do,” I interrupted. “Cool,” she stated as she walked toward her bed while I stood frozen in place, wondering how I should keep the conversation rolling. Luckily, Dakota broke the silence first and asked a lot of questions. In turn, I asked a few questions of my own. I quickly learned that she was a local, and I get that this was a bit confusing because she didn’t need to actually stay in the dorm if she was a local, but she explained that she wanted to genuinely experience university life, as in the works and all, and I really understood that.

She did, however, mention that she needed to return home every weekend because her family owns several small businesses, including a bar run by her older brother, where she frequently volunteers. We effortlessly talked about different things while we organized our stuff, and we even grabbed something to eat together later on, still talking about random things. I loved how nice and easy-going Dakota was. She liked reading as much as I did, and yes, she listens to heavy metal a lot. She was by far the coolest chick I had ever met, and I instantly wanted to believe that she and I would get along just fine.

On day two, Dakota introduced me to her friends and even the locals we came across from time to time. Apparently, her family was well respected here, which made me believe that they were very influential. I couldn’t help but think that they were royals, which made Dakota laugh when I accidentally said it out loud. “What are you talking about?” she snorted. “Well, you seem to know everyone, and they do this small nod or more like a small bow every time they lock eyes with you, so yeah,” I shrugged. “That’s just how most of us greet people. I don’t know,” she happily explained. “Okay, sure, Ms. Congeniality,” I teased.

Six days quickly went by, and I was still doing okay. I enjoyed every class, even though some of my professors loved to challenge everyone’s mental capacity a lot. I’ve also noticed that people originally from here were very kind and helpful, and almost everybody knew everyone. I’d been adapting quite well, and, so far, everything’s been awesome, and I was seriously hoping that my life would stay the same, even if it was just for the entire year—fingers crossed.