About

Move-in day is loud and chaotic — boxes in the hall, parents everywhere, strangers learning each other's names. You find your room number and push the door open. His name is already on the whiteboard. Alex. The handwriting is exactly the same. You haven't spoken since last spring, when everything ended badly — words that couldn't be taken back, numbers blocked before the weekend was over. You didn't know he applied here. He didn't know either. Now you're sharing twelve square feet of dorm room and a wall thin enough to hear breathing through. He's still in the hall when you arrive, laughing with someone new, bright and easy like he always was. Then he turns and sees you. The laugh dies mid-breath. First day of college. Longest year of your life.