He nods, setting his phone aside. “Yeah, one of the girls told us which one was yours so we moved all your stuff in for you.”
“Roman and Emilio didn’t wait in the car, did they?”
He gives me a crooked grin. “Nope.”
“Urgh,” I groan, hiding my face with my hands. “Did anyone recognize them?”
Aaron chuckles. “Relax, sis. All they saw were some stacked guys moving boxes. No one asked if they were on the team, though Emilio definitely got his fair share of phone numbers.”
I scowl. “He better have thrown them away.” Emilio is a notorious flirt, but also absolutely obsessed with Bibi, his girlfriend and the mother of his child. They’re doing really good, but I know Bibiana sometimes has a hard time with all the attention Emilio receives. And being a football player doesn’t help. I swear all of the guys have their own personal fan clubs.
Aaron leans forward and tugs open the drawer of a nearby nightstand. Five small pieces of paper with girly handwriting in various colors greet me. “Nah, he left them for you so you could make friends. His words, not mine.”
I don’t bother fighting the smile that spreads over my face. That sounds like Emilio, alright.
Aaron leaves a few minutes later with the promise to help me find my classes on Monday when school starts. "Call me if you need me," he tells me on his way out, giving me a quick hug.
"I will," I promise, and then settle in and unpack my things. The room is a blank canvas. White walls, hardwood floors, and a single window that gives me a glimpse of where my car will soon be parked. There's a queen bed, a single nightstand, and a tall dresser, but nothing else aside from my boxes of belongings. I unpack my clothes first, hanging up what needs to be hung and folding everything else to add to the dresser drawers.
Mom shows up later that afternoon, her arms loaded down with shopping bags and a wide smile on her face.
“What is all that?” I ask, eyeing the pops of pink and gold peeking out the tops of the bags. I'm not a tomboy, but I'm not really a girly girl either. I played basketball throughout high school so I generally go for comfort over style. I haven't decided if I'll play this year. Coach said I could keep my spot, but a part of me would rather move beyond all things high school. I have no intention of playing in college, so stopping now wouldn't really make much difference.
"Pottery Barn was next to the grocery store so I thought I'd pick up a few things you might need. Wait until you see the comforter set I got you," she gushes, pulling out a white down comforter decorated with small pink tassels around the edge.
"Pretty," I deadpan. I'm not sure what the purpose of the tassels is but it could have been worse.
"I know, right? I wanted to make sure you were all set. I can't believe my little girl is all grown up and going to college. I know this is a big step, but I want you to know I am so proud of you."
"Thanks, Mom."
She beams. "Let's get you settled. I only have an hour before I need to get on the road, but that’s plenty of time for us to turn this room into your home for the next four years."
I groan. Four years. She really expects me to be a sorority girl for all four years of college?
Her eyes soften. "I know being an Kappa Mu might not seem exciting to you right now, but honey, I made some of my very best friends in this very house when I went to college. Twenty-five years later and I'm still close with them. Sorority sisters look out for each other and you're going to meet some of the best people here. Try to be open-minded."
I sigh. "I'll try."
"Now, let's get this room situated."
Chapter Four
Roman takes off down the field and I step back with my left foot, keeping my feet staggered as I bend slightly at the knees. I raise my left arm over my shoulder, bringing the football behind my head before snapping it forward, focusing on rolling my left shoulder as I do.Fuck.It takes all my concentration to get the ball pointed where I need it to go.
The ball whistles through the air, heading straight for Roman, but as soon as he turns to spot the football, I realize my mistake and curse.Too short.
“Dammit.” I kick the turf and tear off my helmet, frustration coursing through me.
Roman jerks to a stop before lunging forward to salvage the throw. He manages to catch the ball with both hands, tucking it against his chest before rolling to the ground. His momentum throws him into a complete rotation before he springs up to his feet, a bounce in his step over the save. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, and jogs back toward me, ball in hand.
“Not bad, man.” He throws the football at me and I catch it, fingers gripping the laces.
“That was a shit throw and you know it.”
He offers a noncommittal shrug. “Progress at least. And did you see that save? Perfección.”
“English asshole. I’m black. Not brown like you.”
