Let It Burn

Maia

I almost died.

No, really, I did, just not literally this time.

Having never been anywhere—let alone on a plane, my heart nearly stopped three times. Turbulence is no joke, especially when it’s so dark outside, and the clouds are thick with rain that no city lights are visible.

It didn’t help that my heart felt heavy with anxiety about a new life and freedom. About a world of sadness for everything I’m leaving behind.

It’s silly how one can feel so much sadness over people who don’t truly care. People who have made it their life mission to hurt you to the point you juggle being a full-time student and having a part-time job so you can save as much money to one day transfer colleges as far away as possible. To book a flight in the middle of the night while you pack your bag just two hours before your flight and sneak out of the window like a ninja, trying not to wake your dog Bunny up.

It’s also sad that I’ll miss my dog more than Mom. As for him, I wish I could have gotten away sooner. I wish I could have avoided years of torment at the hands of someone who isn’t even my real father—not that I have one of those, either. Life is a joke sometimes.

I grip the handle of my mid-size luggage as I stand in front of what looks like a museum with a mix of fancy glass buildings and massive structures with red sandstone exteriors that feature large narrow windows that give it an almost forest-like appearance.

I stand just underneath an archway in the middle of the campus field, where most students seem to hang out. The greenery in this place is unreal, grass so vibrant, bushes so luch, and trees so tall and beautiful I find myself in awe.

Classes don’t officially start until Monday yet, so many students crowd the courtyard. Unlike the community college I attended in California for the past two years, everyone here seems to get along with anyone regardless of the way they dress or represent themselves.

Maybe I will belong here after all. Maybe this is freedom.

I pull out my phone, ignoring the hundreds of missed calls and text messages, and pull up my admissions email. I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Willams for my class schedule, my dorm key, and, hopefully, a tour of the campus, but probably not.

I roam the few buildings nearest to me, my eyes scanning the numbers next to the door. Where the heck is building C208?

I move to walk when I’m suddenly pushed forward, my phone flying out of my hand, and a woosh of air leaves me breathless for a second. “Sorry,” I mutter, not looking at who pushed me but scanning the floor for my phone.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” A sweet feminine voice says from behind me, but I don’t have it in me to look straight at her right now. Instead, I only turn my head slightly, enough to see blue hair in my peripheral vision.

After a beat of silence, she continues, “I wasn’t paying attention,” she lets out a giggle, and I finally look at her. She’s taller than me, skin like silk ivory, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, side by side with the friendliest smile I’ve ever gotten. She crinkles her nose, and when I notice the freckles on her face, it’s subtle but there. “I was busy running away from this idiot,” she points to a tall blond guy next to her.

I meet his already staring eyes—hazel, and I take him for a second too long, and he smirks, I think. Maybe I imagined it because it disappeared too fast. I swallow, breaking eye contact with him and giving a quick nod before walking to the grass and grabbing my phone.

Checking that my screen is fine, I motion to leave, suddenly feeling awkward being around people I don’t know, but before getting too far, blue hair speaks again, falling into pace with me.

“I’m Alyssa, and you are?” she stops in front of me, extending a well-manicured hand to me.

“I’m Maia.” I shake her hand quickly.

Alyssa smiles at me briefly before looking past my shoulder, “That’s Danny, by the way. He’s normally not this awkward or with a starting problem. He’s cool, sometimes.” She smirks between us.

That seemed to snap Danny out of whatever trance he was in, and he quickly fell into step with us, too. “Sorry, I just felt partially responsible for you nearly eating the ground.” His voice is velvety, and his eyes shine as he smiles at us. “As she said, I’m Danny, and it’s nice to meet you, Maia.”

He didn’t bother giving me his hand to shake, and I am grateful because my social meter was filling up, and soon I might malfunction. Sad to say, I’ve never been able to have close friends or anyone I could talk about everything with. College back home was a break from my house but not my reality. Not when he was everywhere.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, looking at both of them before looking at the time on my phone. How has it been fifteen minutes already?

“Sorry to ask but by any chance do you happen to know where building C208 is located? This place is a maze.” I stare at the floor, my teeth working the skin on my bottom lip.

“Yeah, we just passed it.” We pause, and she points at a building to my right. “Once you walk inside, you’ll see the front desk, and Melissa should be there. You can tell her you are there to speak with Mr Williams.”

I nod like a bubblehead, thanking them twice before striding away without a look back.

**

There was, in fact, no tour. Well, physically anyway.

I did get a map of the whole campus with labels on what buildings and classes they are, as well as nearby diners both in and out of campus within a three-mile radius. Apparently, the places with a star next to them are student favorites. But tell me, why, among all the diners, class building, and library, is a local bar and club?

Melissa did say, and I quote, “Nobody does it like New Yorkers.” Whatever that means.

Regardless, I am here to study, not party. But trying all the student’s favorite food places does sound like a fun time.

The key to my dorm room is hard to twist, and I fight with the nob for a solid three minutes before the damn door finally opens.

With an annoyed sigh, I walk into a shared room with someone who is thankfully not messy. She—Sophia, my roommate who Mr Williams told me about, is not currently here, but her side is already decorated.

Our dorm room is spacious enough to give each of us our own space. Being good at math, I’d estimate this room to be anything from 200 to 250 square feet in size, which is more than generous.

Once you walk into the dorm, there are two twin-size beds on opposite sides of the room. Both beds are against the wall, seeming to be held up by a long dresser for extra storage and a small, light wooden nightstand on the opposite side of the wall.

On the wall directly in front of me sits one large window, its size almost taking up the whole wall and bringing in an amazing amount of natural lighting. Just underneath it is one Horizonte six-drawer dresser, and on each side of said dresser are two small desks.

I let out a breath, taking what will be my safe space. Park of my home. I drag my suitcase to my side, parking it on the edge of the bed.

I go to sit on the bed, but because it’s being lifted by a dresser, it’s too tall to just casually sit, so I have to jump up.

A laugh burst out of me because I’m safe and in New York freaking City. But then, just as quickly, my happiness withered— because though I’m far away from home and I feel safe and so far I love it here, even though I have not seen anything besides the passing buildings and people walking while in the taxi earlier, I completely disregarded the fact that this city is expensive.

I open the bank app on my phone, the small number of three thousand dollars staring at me almost mockingly. I will have to find a job soon.

With a deep sigh, I stare at my roommate’s side, noting the whites and pinks theme she has going on. Her bed is neatly made with a white textured comforter and four pillows—two white and two pink against the headboard.

Her nightstand has what I’m almost positive is an Ikea lamp in the color pink. It’s just one of those basic lamps everyone and their aunt have. A picture frame stands just next to the lamp, the dark wood probably the only thing that doesn’t quite match.

I stand to look at the picture better, kicking off my shoes before walking over. Without touching, I bend over to see a bronze-skinned girl, her pull lips blood red and smiling. Next to her is another girl who looks similar to her, most likely her sister. They are both wearing winter outfits and smiling what I’m sure is a genuine smile.

Feeling good for her and her memories, I take in the faery lights coming down her wall, polaroids attached to the empty spaces where no bulbs are. In all the pictures, she’s either smiling or making funny faces. They are all in different settings and mostly with friends.

And wow she has a lot of friends.

Before I can continue my nosy roommate expeditions, my stomach growls at me, reminding me I have not eaten at all today.

I’m making a to-do list on my phone of things I need to buy to decorate my room and toilet tress for what’s possibly the worst part of this place so far—the communal bathroom. I look at the map that was given to me and choose a location to grab some food before coming back here and unpacking the little bit I brought from my old life.

Slipping my shoes back on, I exit the dorm with purpose. I got to find the elevator since I was on the fourteenth floor, and yes, this building has a lot of floors, I think twenty-three if I remember correctly from earlier when I took the elevator up. What sucks is the fact that there is only one elevator per floor, and about fifteen students are waiting.

Oh, did I mention that both males and females reside in this dorm building? Yeah, apparently, this is the only building that’s part of their gender-inclusive program. The only good thing is that there are a few communal bathrooms in the building and they are thankfully gender exclusive.

With great hesitation, I decide not to wait for the elevator to do at least two rounds before I can ride it. Instead, I opt for the stairs.

The lighting here is dim, which makes no sense because, with how steep these stairs are and the poor lighting, it’s like waiting for a lawsuit to happen. Regardless, I descend each step with careful concentration, even though my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it. I hate enclosed spaces like this.

I pick at my bottom lip, the taste of copper hardly registering to me as my only focus is each step I’m taking.

I don’t take my eyes away from the ground, and maybe because of that is that I suddenly hear myself screaming as I feel my body flying.

I brace myself for impact, my arms awkwardly going to protect my head, but nothing happens. One second, I’m falling, and the other, I’m being pulled upright by strong arms.

In this crazy moment, I notice two things: one, being focused on what you’re doing is not always a good thing, and second, I’m in the arms of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, black eye and all.