Well, I’m tall, and took several years of jiu jitsu with my dad’s brother, Ed. I can handle myself.
But Ward will be one miserable sonofabitch if he thinks he’s going to hassle me about being gay. I applied to dozens of universities that also had law programs, and was accepted at several, including some in the South. One of the things that made NYU my first choice is because it’s located here, in New York City, and I know me being gay won’t be a problem for most people I’ll deal with on a daily basis. Plus, I can go to the same university for law school. And it’s not so far from Massachusetts that I can’t easily travel home for holidays or long weekends if I get homesick.
Ward and I exchanged a couple of brief e-mails, and cell numbers, but he doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, apparently. Or any other social media account I could locate. I know he’s arriving sometime today, but I’m not sure when, because he didn’t volunteer that info and I didn’t feel like trying to pull it from him. Other than a brief exchange of texts to confirm I had his correct number…crickets.
Whatever.
Arriving first means I get my choice of beds, so that’s what I focus on. I take the side farthest from the door. I won’t be out late partying and stumbling in at all hours to awaken my roommate. He can be closer to the door. I spend a few minutes moving my desk and bookshelf and dresser to sort of give me a little more privacy, and then unpack.
Once that’s finished, I head downstairs to explore the residence hall and find my way around the area. My freshman orientation is tomorrow morning. I’m eager to get out and roam Manhattan, because I’ve only been here twice before. Both times were with my parents, once when I was barely old enough to remember watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade from my perch atop Dad’s shoulders, and again when I was twelve, to attend a cousin’s wedding.
I was raised in north central Massachusetts, in a rural area, closer to Vermont and New Hampshire than Boston. I definitely don’t sound like a Bostonian. Dad grew up outside Albany, New York, and Mom was raised in rural Pennsylvania.
The other thing I want to do is investigate a few churches in the area. I’m no idiot and fully realize there is a larger world out there. Over the years, I’ve attended worship services at different churches, and even services of other faiths with friends of mine in high school. My parents always encouraged me and my brother to be independent thinkers, and that the true value in religion isn’t blindly following because you feel you have to, but to still have faith even when you have legitimate questions and doubts. That, and the feeling of family and belonging that the right congregation can instill within you.
There are several houses of worship in the immediate area I want to explore over the next several months. I know I don’t have to be inside any particular building to pray, and I’m no evangelical trying to convert anyone else to my way of thinking.
While my parents told me it was admirable I want to continue attending church on Sundays, they strongly emphasized I shouldn’t feel guilty if I don’t. That my studies come first because this is the opportunity of a lifetime, one that can set my future success in motion.
I totally agree. But I like to have everything mapped out ahead of time so I can keep my plans flexible.
It’s close to six p.m. when I return to my room to find I am no longer alone.
Technically.
There are suitcases and other personal items stowed in my roommate’s side of the room, but no roommate.
I debate whether or not to text Ward, since it would have been obvious for him to shoot me a text when he arrived and saw that I’d already unpacked.
Then again, who knows what I’ll be dealing with when he arrives?
He brought a small refrigerator and microwave with him. Not sure if he’ll let me use them or not. That’s fine if he doesn’t, but it would be convenient to have access to them.
I already have my books and reading lists for my classes, so I pop in my earbuds, crank up my music, and start getting a jump on the material. I’m not paying much attention when the door opens some time later, and it’s the way the guy hesitates when he spots me that catches my eye.
Pausing my music, I remove an earbud. He’s freaking gorgeous. Sandy brown hair and blue eyes, and he’s a couple of inches shorter than my six-five.
I finally find my voice. “Hi. Ward?” I set my things aside and stand.
His eyes widen in fear. “Y-yeah?”
Okay, so maybe he at least won’t be an asshole. He looks terrified of me. I cross the room, my hand extended. “Hey, there. Nice to finally meet you. Liam Davis.”
He nervously swallows and takes my hand with a decent but not assholish grip. He hasn’t said enough for me to catch if he has a Southern drawl or not. “Ward Callahan.” His soft, tentative tone already makes me rethink my earlier suspicions about the guy.
I don’t release his hand yet and he’s not trying to pull away. “Did you need any help with your things?” I ask.
He nervously shakes his head. “No, that’s okay.” He glances around and seems to actually see my side of the room for the first time. “You don’t have a fridge or microwave?”
I finally release his hand and shrug. “Not in the budget.” Might as well put it all out there. “Grants and scholarships got me here. Don’t expect me to be a party animal, either.”
His eyes widen. “Oh! You can share with me. I don’t mind. And I-I’m not much on parties, either. Pre-law, right?”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. And, yeah. Pre-law.” I make another mid-thought shift in judgment about the guy and decide to roll back my irritation at him not being more social. He sounds like maybe he’s as anxious as I feel. “First days suck, right? Don’t know anyone, never been here before. I already explored the neighborhood a little, but I’m not from a big city.”
Finally, the hint of a smile. “Yeah, first days suck. I’m from outside Atlanta, but it’s not anything like this…”
That’s how, twenty minutes later, we’re still standing there talking. He’s relaxing, I’m relaxing. And when he eventually lets out his first natural, deep laugh, a keening thought smacks me in the face while my pulse skips a beat over his smile—I’m already crushing hard on the guy, and I have no idea if he’s straight or not.
