He smelled Like Home

++++++++ Tree ++++++++

Why did I choose this college?

I could’ve followed my brother—same campus, same dorm, familiar footsteps down unfamiliar halls. I could’ve just blended in. Instead, I was here. New place. New people. New everything.

And it was too much.

The buzz of conversations, the scrape of suitcase wheels, the clash of scents—perfume, sweat, deodorant, cafeteria grease, detergent—hit all at once. Each breath made me dizzier. Each step felt like I was wading through static.

I hugged my bag tighter, trying not to shrink in on myself as students brushed past. My heartbeat roared in my ears. A bump to the shoulder. A shuffle too close. A whisper of someone laughing nearby. Were they laughing at me?

I never should’ve left home.

The thought hit harder than I expected, and panic swelled in its wake. I apologized to someone I accidentally bumped, barely audible, barely heard. I couldn’t look at them. I couldn’t look at anyone.

‘Focus. Ground. Inhale, hold, exhale.’

Aunt Kate’s voice echoed in my memory, her calm, steady hands guiding mine through panic, just like before.

‘Count the steps. Feel your feet. Left foot. Right foot. You are here. You are okay.’

Except I wasn’t. And I didn’t see the lip of the doorway until it was too late.

I stumbled, let out a sharp yelp, and crashed forward. My hands hit cold tile hard. My knees followed. My glasses jostled but didn’t break—thank god—but I didn’t dare move. Not yet.

Pain throbbed in my joints, but worse was the humiliation. My face burned. My breath hitched. Tears welled in my eyes.

Then a voice.

“Are you good?”

No mocking. No judgment. Just… a question.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t lift my head. I could barely breathe, and my lungs were folding in on themselves like paper.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

Female. That helped a little. A man’s voice might’ve snapped whatever thread was holding me together.

I shook my head. Tried to wave my hand. I’m fine. I wasn’t. But I didn’t want help. I just wanted this moment for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. That way, I wouldn’t have to exist.

It took a while—too long—before I could swallow the knot in my throat and speak.

“I—I’m f-fine… C-could you p-point me to r-room 102?”

Silence. Then a soft laugh—not cruel, not even amused. Just surprised.

“You’re in room 102.”

Of course I was.

Of course I’d just faceplanted into my own dorm room.

Right in front of my new roommate.

I finally lifted my head, and for a moment, the panic dulled just a little.

She smelled like rose water and warm linen—like freshly washed sheets hung out to dry in the sun. Comforting. Soft. Familiar in a way I couldn’t place.

Not home.

But not threatening, either.

She was pretty, though, with ash blond hair in long woven braid down her back. Icy blue eyes hidden behind large, round, golden-framed glasses. Almost like a librarian or a historian. She had this look, like someone who was exceptionally intelligent.

Picking myself up off the floor, I looked away. “Sorry for tumbling in.”

“It’s fine, you must be Tree.” She stated, as if she already knew everything about me. Oh god, I hope she didn’t! I could only nod and run a hand through my dishevelled platinum blond locks. “I am. Um.”

Her soft, delicate hand outstretched towards me.

“Elizabetta.” Her lips curled in a soft smile. The corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement, I almost missed the hint of concern behind them as I shook her hand with my weak grasp. My mom gave me that look all the time.

“So, we’re roommates.” I ventured softly, my pale hand gently pulling back.

“Correct.” Came the soft reply, as she filtered past gracefully, returning with a first aid kit and tending to my hands.

“You don’t have to do that.” I ventured softly. “They’ll heal up pretty fast.”

There was no confusion on her face as I said this, just a nod of acceptance. “Then would some water help?”

“Yeah, just point me in the direction of the sink.” There was that soft, amused sound again as she led me to the sink for a glass of water. “I felt bad. This glass was probably hers. I hadn’t even unpacked yet. Still, the cool water helped to override the sheer exhaustion burning through the 12 minutes of adrenaline I had.

“Do you need any help unpacking? I finished ages ago, and your room is probably the only one still needing to be done. Especially, if you want to rest before Colton gets back from practice.

My body tensed at the words.

Who was Colton?