I am nervous.
Today is my first day as a first year college student, a fresh start in a completely different place from where I graduated high school. I don't know a single person here, which, in a way, is a relief.
I studied high school in the province, so I know for sure that none of my new classmates will be familiar faces. Not that it would make much of a difference, I wasn't close with my former classmates anyway.
It's not that I hated them. I just never really made the effort to approach anyone. I kept my distance, and they did the same. Maybe that was my fault.
Growing up, I remember playing with other kids, laughing, and having fun. But as I grow older, I start enjoying my own company more. Being alone feels natural. Comfortable.
But this time, I want things to be different. This is a new chapter in my life, and I want to make at least one real friend. More than one, if possible. That, and passing all my subjects, are my main goals this semester.
The first day means introductions. Just a simple stand-up-and-say-your-name thing, but even thinking about it makes my stomach twist into knots.
I watch through the car window as we enter the campus gates. The place is huge, far bigger than my high school, with buildings stretching out on either side and students walking in every direction.
As soon as the car comes to a stop, Ken turns to me with a serious expression.
"Okay, first things first," he says as we step out. "Once we're inside, don't talk to me, don't look at me, and don't even breathe the same air as me."
I blink at him. "What?"
"I'm in my second year of college now. I don't want my potential girlfriends thinking I already have one. So, do me a favor and pretend we're not close."
I frown as I adjust my backpack. "But we do know each other. You literally live next door."
"Exactly. That's why I said pretend." He rolls his eyes. "Which part of 'pretend' didn't you understand?"
I narrow my eyes. "It's not like people care about us, Ken. Also, it's your second year, and you still don't have a girlfriend. I don't think it's because of me."
He scoffs, but I ignore him, suddenly struck by a realization. I move closer and start sniffing the air around him.
Ken recoils. "Are you a dog? What the hell are you doing?"
"I thought maybe you're drunk or something." I cross my arms. "That's the only explanation for this nonsense."
"Why would I drink on the first day of school? The second day, maybe."
I chuckled. "I don't know. Maybe to mourn your nonexistent love life?"
He groans, rubbing his forehead. "Look, just... don't eat alone like you did in high school, okay? Talk to your classmates. Invite someone to lunch. You're in college now, Nika. If you don't make an effort, you're done for."
I sigh. "I know, I know."
"Trust me, it helps so much to know someone sociable... someone who has everyone's number. Do you know how much gas money I've saved just because my classmates text me when the professor isn't coming?"
That surely is a nice advice.
Ken checks his phone. "Alright, I'm off. You know where your building is, right?"
I nod. He doesn't wait for a reply before walking off, probably eager to distance himself from me as quickly as possible.
I watch him go before turning toward my own building. The closer I get, the heavier my steps feel. I adjust my backpack again, taking a deep breath.
I take out my assessment paper to check what my first subject is and which classroom I need to go to.
"Room 2A." I glance at the doors around me and notice that they all start with the number 1. That must mean the second-floor classrooms start with 2.
I grip my bag strap and quickly head toward the staircase. My heart beats a little faster as I climb, my footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. Other students rush past me, chatting excitedly with their friends, already at ease in this new environment. I envy them a little.
Reaching the second floor, I scan the doors until I spot Room 2A displayed on a small metal plaque beside an open doorway. I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping closer.
Inside, the room is already filled with students. Small groups are scattered around, engaged in lively conversations and laughter. Some lean against desks, others sit close together, as if they've known each other forever. A few are exchanging phone numbers, making plans, forming friendships before the semester has even officially started.
I hesitate at the doorway, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. Everyone seems to have found someone to talk to, someone to sit with.
I tighten my grip on my bag strap and lower my gaze.
Avoiding eye contact, I quickly walk to the very back and slip into a seat by the window. Maybe if I stay quiet enough, no one will notice me.
I pull out my phone and pretend to be busy, hoping the professor will arrive soon so I don't have to deal with the awkwardness of sitting alone in a room full of strangers.
So much for a fresh start.
By the time the clock strikes noon, a dull headache begins to creep in. I make my way to the cafeteria, where the rich aroma of fried food and freshly cooked rice lingers in the air. The place is packed, students crowd around the counters, some chatting animatedly while others, like me, seem unsure of where to go.
I fall in line like everyone else, waiting for my turn. When I finally reach the counter, I pick out two half meals, a cup of rice, and a box of milk.
With my tray in hand, I scan the room for an empty seat. The cafeteria is crowded, every table filled with students laughing, talking, and eating in groups.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ken.
He's sitting at a table nearby, eating with someone. They're talking casually between bites, and from where I stand, he looks relaxed and comfortable, like he belongs. Unlike me.
There's an open seat at their table.
For a second, I consider it. I could go over, ask if I can sit there, maybe even have a normal conversation. But then I remember what he told me this morning.
Right. He was practically telling me not to rely on him.
At that moment, as if sensing my stare, Ken turns his head in my direction. Our eyes meet just for a split second but I quickly look away.
Just as I was considering heading to the benches outside to eat, a group of students suddenly stood up, grabbing their trays as they made their way out. They left behind an empty table in the corner, slightly secluded from the cafeteria's busiest areas.
Without hesitation, I slipped into one of the vacant chairs, setting my tray down. The quiet felt like a small relief amid the overwhelming noise of conversations and clattering utensils.
I take out a tissue and carefully wipe my side of the table before arranging my meal. The small act of tidying up gives me something to focus on something to do with my hands while the space around me feels overwhelmingly loud.
I let out a quiet sigh and pick up my fork.
As I eat, I glance around. Every table is filled with groups, friends leaning in close, sharing jokes, trading bites of food, scrolling through their phones together. A girl at a nearby table playfully steals a piece of her friend's meal, laughing when he tries to take it back. A group of guys erupts into laughter over something on one of their phones.
Meanwhile, I sit alone.
But I don't mind.
Loneliness doesn't hurt when you're used to it, it just lingers quietly, like an old habit.
I'm not saying I'm lonely. I'm just used to it.
As I took another bite, a tray landed on the empty space across from me with a soft thud.
I look up and saw Ken.
"I thought we weren’t supposed to act like we know each other," I said, raising an eyebrow.
He slid into the seat effortlessly. "Did I say that rule starts today? No. It takes effect tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, don’t sit at the same table as me."
I stared at him blankly. But you're the one who sat on the same table as me.
He started shoving food into his mouth like he was in some kind of speed-eating competition.
"What about that guy you were eating with earlier?"
"He’s old enough to eat on his own," Ken mumbled through a mouthful of rice. Then, without hesitation, he reached over and stole a piece of my food.
I gasped. "Ken!"
He didn’t even look guilty.
Panicked, I started eating faster, suddenly feeling like I was in a competition to protect my own meal.
I shot him a glare between bites. "Well, I’m old enough to eat on my own too."
"You're seventeen," he shot back, as if that was enough of an argument.
I huffed, crossing my arms. "I’m also legally an adult, you know. I can definitely eat by myself."
He didn’t respond, too busy inhaling his meal like it was his last. Despite his earlier claims about distancing himself, he was here, eating with me, like he always did before. And if I was being honest with myself… I was happy about it.
I glanced at him and smiled. "Thank you," I said softly, appreciating his quiet way of making sure I wasn’t alone.
Feeling a little bold, I stood up, intending to give him a quick hug, just as a friendly gesture.
The second I moved, Ken shot his hand up like a barrier, planting his palm right in front of my face. His expression twisted in exaggerated disgust.
"Ew. Yuck. Don’t hug me."
Yup. He’s really sweet. So sweet that I wanted to squeeze him in a hug until he regretted ever stopping me
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile forming on my lips.
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