On the first day of school, I felt nervous in a way I couldn’t fully explain. It wasn’t just about being new. It was the kind of nervousness that sits quietly inside you, making everything feel unfamiliar.

My parents and I had moved here a month ago because of my parent’s transfer from Chicago to NYC. Even after all this time, nothing felt settled yet. The streets looked different, the sounds felt louder, and even the air felt strange, like it didn’t belong to me yet.

While coming from Chicago to NYC, our car had broken down. I still remembered how we stood on the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but a long highway. I had felt worried and frustrated, thinking maybe this move was going to be harder than I had imagined.

Later, when I came alone to NYC because my parents had already shifted and I had some pending work, the same thing happened again. My car broke down in the middle of the highway. This time, it felt worse. I was alone. The road looked endless, and there was no help in sight.

Cars passed by, one after another, without stopping. My chest felt tight. Then I saw one car coming closer. I waved my hand, hoping—almost praying—that it would stop.

It did.

A tall young man stepped out. He had brown eyes, a clean-shaven face, and a calm presence that made everything feel strangely quieter. For a moment, I forgot why I had waved him down at all. I just stood there, frozen.

“Hello, miss. What do you need?” he asked.

I told him everything, my words rushing out all at once. He laughed softly and said, “Let me look.”

I stood there, in the middle of the highway, watching him work. There were no cars passing by anymore, and for some reason, my thoughts kept drifting back to him instead of the broken car.

After a while, he looked up and said, “It’s done.”

I smiled, relief washing over me. I asked his name.

“Allen,” he said.

I greeted him back, waiting—without knowing why—for him to ask mine. But he didn’t. He simply got back into his car and left.

For a second, I stood there, watching his car disappear. I felt oddly irritated. Rude, I thought.

When I finally reached my dorm, I met my roommate. She asked my name, and I told her, “Lina.”
I asked hers. “Lisa,” she said.

Lisa was beautiful, and talking to her felt easy. We shared the same music taste, and slowly, the room started to feel less empty. She told me she had an older brother, one year older than her.

After talking for a while, I went to take a shower. We had our first lecture, and I felt nervous again. I was shy, and we had to introduce ourselves. Standing under the water, I kept repeating what I wanted to say, hoping my voice wouldn’t shake.

The classroom was huge, filled with more than a hundred students. I sat in the first row, my heart beating faster than it should have. When the professor called my name, my legs felt weak as I walked to the podium.

I greeted everyone and introduced myself, but my voice came out softer than I wanted. I knew I hadn’t done well.

“It’s okay,” Lisa whispered afterward.

I nodded, still embarrassed.

Later, we went to the cafeteria, where I found out about an unofficial freshers’ party at Lisa’s place.

I wasn’t very into dressing up, but Lisa insisted. She gave me her black pearled dress and did my hair. When we reached her house, it was crowded and loud.

I saw her brother. He was good-looking, but he had a girlfriend, so I didn’t think much of it. I had always liked boys, but I had never really felt the urge to date anyone.

Inside one of the rooms, people were playing truth and dare. I hesitated at the door. Everyone was smoking and drinking, and I didn’t feel comfortable.

Then I saw him.

Allen.

For a moment, everything else faded. I hadn’t expected to see him there. My heart skipped, and my first instinct was to leave. I still remembered how he had driven away without even asking my name.

But Lisa pulled me inside and made me sit.

The bottle spun and stopped at Allen. Someone dared him to kiss a girl in the room. I looked at the girl sitting on his lap, already sure of what would happen.

Instead, he stood up.

Before I could react, he came toward me. His hand gently held my waist, pulling me closer. My body froze. Nothing felt real. He leaned down and kissed my forehead softly, then walked back to his seat as if nothing had happened.

I couldn’t breathe properly.

I left the room, pretending to look for the washroom. The house was big, and I wandered into a quiet room by mistake. It was filled with books and fantasy quotes. I walked around slowly, tracing my fingers along the spines. Romance. Fantasy. It felt personal, warm.

I liked the vibe of the room.

Then someone entered.

Allen.

My heart skipped again. I stood still, unsure of what to do.

He leaned against the wall, tilting his head slightly.
“You’re here. Interesting,” he said, his voice low.

I stammered that I had entered by mistake and was about to leave.

“Lina,” he said. “Then why were you looking at my things?”

I felt my cheeks heat up. I told him I didn’t know it was his room and that I wasn’t interested in his things. My stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

I asked him to move aside.

Instead, he stepped closer. He touched my face lightly and said, “Foolish,” as if it was the simplest truth.

I wanted to argue, but my words refused to come out.

For a moment, I just stood there, my heart beating too fast. I didn’t understand why his teasing didn’t feel irritating anymore. It felt… different.

“Relax,” he said softly. “It’s not like I’m going to bite.”

And without meaning to, I smiled.