An unfamiliar buzzingjerks me awake. I’m so tired that it takes me a minute to remember where I am, and a smile covers my face. This hasn’t all been a dream. I’m really in Iceland!
Xile groans. I turn my head to look at him. He looks like a big ball of blankets. Rolling onto my stomach, I look out over the loft through the windows, and my breath catches. What would it be like to wake up to a view of snow-capped mountains all year round? The skies are clear. There’s mist around the peak of one of the mountains.
“I could wake up to this view every day,” Corwin says.
“I was just thinking that,” I answer.
“It doesn’t feel like I slept at all,” Xile complains.
Grinning, I close my eyes. Immediately, my body begins to get heavy, and I can feel sleep trying to take hold again. Sighing, I force myself up into a sitting position. If I don’t get up, I’m going to fall back asleep. Between the time change and the lack of sleep on the plane, I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.
There are two feet separating my bed from Xile’s. It’s a tight area, but that’s okay. I don’t mind. He doesn’t appear to be moving. His soft snore makes me grin. I’m not sure he’s going to be getting up.
My body feels achy when I push to my feet. I can’t stand straight because of the curve of the dome, so I shuffle to the ladder and carefully make my way down. Once my feet hit the floor, I stretch.
Corwin is sitting up in his bed watching out the window. Now that I’ve had a little bit of sleep, I can appreciate the space. The peak of the dome is high overhead, and the structure is open. It definitely reminds me of the inside of a yurt. I can see all the crossing of the beams holding it up in some places.
Like a yurt, the material feels like really heavy fabric. Thick. As I study it, I think there are several layers overlapping each other. The window is actually clear plastic. There’s a curtain that’s tied on either side of the window.
I was so tired before that I completely missed… “Is that a jacuzzi outside?” I ask, stepping closer to the window.
Corwin grins. “Appears so. Maybe that’s why our packing list included a bathing suit.”
“I thought it was weird that it was included in the packing list but emphasized no winter outdoor gear.”
He nods. “Same. I found myself searching the map for an island called Iceland that was near the equator.”
I smile and turn to the chair beside the woodstove. It’s a small stove, but it does a damn good job keeping the place warm. “It’s surprisingly spacious in here.”
“It is,” Corwin agrees. “It’s bigger than most underclassman dorms are.”
I tilt my head. “Your dorm was smaller than this?”
“Oh, definitely,” he says. I take a seat on the chair beside the woodstove. The warmth feels nice. “But not as small as I’ve seen. It’s so misleading when colleges show the dorms of upperclassmen but leave out what underclassmen have to reside in. At least at RDU, each dorm has a room picture associated with it, so I knew what I was getting into. I’d say… taking out the bathroom and shit, and obviously lowering the roof, it was maybe two-thirds the size to share between two people.”
I look around. “Huh.”
“You athletes have something different?”
“Yes and no. Our bedrooms we shared with one other person, but then there was a common room for every two to three bedrooms, depending on the suite.”
Corwin shakes his head. “My talents lie in mathematics, so I get a small room.”
I’d like to say something in explanation, but I don’t have anything to add. “Sorry.”
He shrugs. “Meh. I’ve been lucky enough to have some great roommates. I have my own room this year.”
“You still live on campus?”
Corwin nods. “Yep. Easier. And I don’t have to find money to pay rent since my room is included in my tuition.”
“That’s fair.”
“You live on campus too, right?”
“It’s required by the athletic department.”
“Maybe because they don’t give you a choice, they make your rooms a little more livable,” Corwin suggests.
