We arrive at the campus earlier than we expected, so my mother and I toured around the school, just getting a feel for things, until orientation started. The campus is breathtaking, with palm trees surrounding the white stone buildings, and grass as green as Damon's eyes. Only, the grass is missing the little specks of gold scattered throughout the...

Scarlett stop. Contain yourself, that's in the past. This is your future.

I smile as the warm sun beats off my exposed skin, and then chuckle as I see a two guys collide into each other as they try to catch an oncoming frisbee. A group of girls walking past me animatedly chat, and three students studying underneath a palm tree to my side start hysterically laughing. Everywhere I look I see life and excitement. Large buildings engulf me, their curved metal and glass brightly gleaming as the sun bounces off their surfaces. Everything seems so much larger and important. The atmosphere alone makes me feel so much older, and as I bound through the campus and soak in all its wonder, I begin to increasingly feel like this is home. Everything just feels right here, like this is where I'm supposed to be.

Too soon, it's time for orientation, and I have to peel myself away from my mother like a band-aid as she's crying and petting my head goodbye. I feel my eyes start to water so I blink repeatedly to restrain the tears. This will be the longest period of time I'll be away from her, and I'm not looking forward to it; but, my excitement to be in college is keeping my scales even. I watch her drive away, and, with luggage in hand, I head over to the small group of freshly graduated freshmen, all here ready to commence their new life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

A couple of hours later, I am unpacked and adding the finishing touches to my dorm room. Orientation hadn't lasted too long, and directly afterwards we were led to our rooms with our new roommates to get situated. Apparently, my roommate had been running late, not making it to orientation, so I still had no clue he is.

Oh yeah, did I mention, he?

Supposedly, he is gay and protested the fact that he should have to be forced to live on the male floors. He believed he'd find more of a community on the girl's floors. After he presented a list of consent signatures from all the other girls staying on the floor, the board members finally allowed him to live with us. Being one of those signatures, I have no problem with it.

After I finish, I head next door to our suitemates' room. I met both girls in orientation and I'm glad to say they're quite friendly. My worst fear of college was getting awful roommates, but I'm currently 2/3 of the way loving them, hopefully Mr. 3rd won't spoil it.

Anna and Olivia are both sitting on one bed talking when I walk in. They turn to me and smile, scooting to the side to let me on too. Anna tucks her already tucked strawberry blonde bangs behind her ears without realizing it, a habit I've noticed throughout the day, before asking me about my roommate. I tell her that he hasn't shown yet. Olivia lays a hand on my shoulder,

"Make sure and tell me if he's ever not-so-gay and tries something."

I laugh, "You'll be the first to know."

Her deep skin glows as she gives me a glistening smile, curly tendrils bouncy slightly atop her head. I stay there a little longer before heading back over to my room.

I'm in the middle of setting up my laptop when I hear the door burst open behind me and a sing-song voice cry out, "Honey, I'm home!"

He immediately reminds me of Rachel, and I immediately fall in love.

I spin around in my chair to see a well groomed skinny boy in front of me. He has his arms flung out in opposite directions; an action I assume went along with the entrance. He looks at me with big wondrous blue eyes and a large straight smile. I jump up to greet him, but he rushes over and wraps me in his arms before lifting me off the ground in a hug and spinning.

"Hello Beautiful, I'm Quentin, and I'm delighted to make your acquaintance!"

I'm giggling while he places me back on my feet. Once I regain my posture, I reply as I watch him tuck back a strand of his perfectly styled brown hair that sits up on his head.

"Hi, I'm Scarlett, and I'm so excited that you're my roommate."

"Wow, same!"

He walks past me to his side of the room and promptly starts fashioning it. He asks if I want to help with the design ideas, so obviously I say yes. I spend the next hour decorating and organizing Quentin's belongings, all the while getting to know my new roommate better. The more I talk to him, the more I love him.

Later, I introduce him to Anna and Olivia, then us four head out to hang out around the campus. We grab some coffee and chill around the center pond along with many others from the school. A few people from orientation join us, and the longer I hang out with everyone, the more I realize just how much I'm going to love college.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

After a couple weeks, I begin my first class. Although it's summer and the new term won't begin for awhile, I decided to take a summer class to keep me busy. I need an art credit anyways, and I hate art class, so I might as well get it over with.

I can hear my black ankle boots click as I walk up the steps to the west building. After a couple minutes of searching, I find my class and stride inside. The first thing I notice is the aroma of paint and pottery, then I see the stools all positioned in a circle in the middle of the room. After a few more people enter, I hear an airy voice tell us to find a seat. Glancing around, I spot the art professor who is just as dainty as her voice, with a pale pink cardigan draped over her and her thin hair cut neatly across her shoulders.

I sit down on a stool and examine the blank canvas placed before me. Our teacher notions for us to paint whatever we feel like for our first assignment: an object, emotion, memory, etc. Since I have no idea what I'm doing, I decide to combine all three.

I start by painting down a green apple, and then I continue with the gold hand that'll be holding it. I'm in the middle of laying out the fingers when I hear a disbelieving voice call out my name from the front of the room.

"Scarlett...?"

I turn and my brush falls clean out of my grasp. My jaw soon follows. My psychotic ex-boyfriend from tenth grade is standing at the front of the class, backpack slung over his left shoulder as always. I hadn't ever mentioned him before because he honestly never comes to mind. We didn't date for too long, and it ended horribly before he moved away; he's just a bad memory. His used-to-be scraggly long hair is now trimmed short and choppy, but he still hasn't given up the Polo's.

Now it's my turn for the disbelief, "Levi?"

"Wow! What has it been, two years?"

"Apparently," is all I can make out, I'm still in shock.

He prances up to me and hugs me. I don't hug back. He then walks up to the teacher and shakes her hand, giving her a warm smile. I grimace. Just like Levi to act so polite and proper, but nobody knows the real Levi, the angry, spiteful person he is. He likes to put on a show, but I know him too well. He thrives off of control, and that included me, when we were together. And if you dare tip the balance, hell broke loose. Or, should I say, my wrist did.

He nods to a few others in the class before taking his seat next to mine. He just gives me a boyish grin-as if a smile wipes everything away-then begins painting. I just carry on my assignment and patiently wait for the class to finish.

By the end of class, my emotions had subsided and I was feeling better. Painting is quite peaceful, as I've come to find out, and I rather enjoyed myself. As I was packing up my things, my teacher passed by, examining our works.

"Why, this is wonderful. Have you painted before?"

I smile tentatively, "No."

"Well, you should start. This really is spectacular for a beginner. It reminds me of Picasso: simple, but extraordinary."

I blush widely at that. I really had the vaguest idea of art before this. I never realized I could actually be partially good at it.

"Thank you."

I smile and leave, walking quickly down the steps, knowing that Levi will probably follow. I reach the sidewalk, and then I hear, "Wait up!"

Grumbling silently to myself, I turn around to face a jogging Levi trying to catch up to me.

"Where are you heading?" he asks cheerily.

"My dorm."

"What room?"

"Rather not tell."

"Well, then how have you been?"

"Also would rather not tell."

His face slowly falls with each of my responses. Bringing his hand up to his face, he rubs his jaw, guilt washed over his face.

"Listen Scarlett, I know how awful I used to be. I really have changed though; a year of growing up at college will do that to you. I'm sorry for everything, truly. I wish I could take it back, but I can't; so instead, would you let me try to make it up for you?"

He looks so earnest, as if his next breathe is dependent on my answer. I'm not falling for it, however this is the first time he's ever apologized to me for anything, so I try my best to soften the blow.

"No Levi, I do believe that you're sorry, and I do forgive you. But that's in the past, and it definitely needs to stay there."

He keeps a straight face, but I notice the small twitch of his eye, and I can tell he's desperately trying to contain his rising anger at the fact that I rejected him. And, knowing him, it's not because of the rejection; it's the fact that he lost his precious control over this situation. I stand my ground though, even if I am a bit worried and on edge around him.

I notice a bright flash of yellow behind Levi and lean over to investigate. The obnoxiously yellow v-neck could belong to no one else than Quentin, and I confirm that as I see him running towards me. Once he reaches us, he wraps me in his arms and gives me a typical spin.

"Hey, Beautiful! How was the class?" he inquires excitedly, completely disregarding the now annoyed man next to him.

"It was grand!" I reply, and then I lean in so only he can hear, "Until a bad memory entered."

He sets me down and looks at me quizzically. Only then does he notice the guy standing next to him, arms crossed and observing him. Quentin catches on and turns back to me.

"Do I need to take care of B.M.?"

I register that B.M. stands for "bad memory" (after living with him for weeks now, I've caught onto his knack for nicknames) and shake my head.

"That's not necessary, I've got it covered."

Turning to Levi, I say, "Goodbye," then leave with Quentin.

He only replies with two words, but those two simple words work an uncomfortable shiver down my spine.

"For now."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *