At first, Cameron worried the remainder of the journey would be awkward after his little moment, but Jazmine’s home was thankfully in sight by the time he’d finish texting Garrett. Getting out of the truck, he used the time it took to grab his duffel to fortify himself. 

Everything is going to be alright. Jazmine is nice, and tonight is going to be nice, and I’m going to make good memories, Cameron chanted in his head as he walked over to Jazmine on the sidewalk in front of her home. The exterior of the navy door two-story town home was familiar, the way linoleum is—red brick chipped and faded, the steps cracked and in need of some work, and the mailbox holding on for dear life like the rest of the neighborhood by brightly decorated with bumblebees. The sophomore vaguely remembered her saying that this was the less affluent part of town, but the ginger knew something was up when she used her phone to unlock the door. 

Seeing the inside, Cameron gapes as he slips out of the slides. It’s really well decorated on the interior. As in professionally decorated by a designer or someone with exquisite taste. He could tell Jazmine was indulging him, wordlessly letting him take in the quiet wealth room as she tucked their shoes away. The large leather set of couches, the antique wooden coffee tables and bookshelves, the wicker chairs, and the large artwork prints all of which looked suspiciously expensive. While Cameron wasn’t poor, this was way out of his normal—and a little intimidating if he were to be honest.

“It’s not mine,” she clarifies as Cameron turns to ask. “My roommates’ parents cover everything.”

But what about her parents, Cameron couldn’t help but wonder. She’d never mentioned them, not that he was in any position to find that weird, since he didn’t talk about his family either. One would have to know how their family is in order to do that.

Perhaps for the best, one of the said roommates emerges from the door next to the kitchen right as Cameron found the courage to ask. They looked like they had just escaped an evil lair, with their messy, raven-black hair and the stains all over their sweatpants. 

“Hi, I’m Emery,” they greet flatly. Cameron didn’t know what he expected, but Emery had a lot of piercings. Even more than he did, which wasn’t uncommon, but not frequent.

“Emery, this is Cameron. Cameron’s a transfer. Cameron, Emery.  They don’t look like it, but they're my glucose guardian,” Jaz says, pointing to the TV, sound bar, and gaming systems hooked up beneath. “I kinda just bum off them.”

“Jaz,” they manage to sound exasperated without even moving more muscle in their face. “Don’t say that.”

“I was just jokin’, but you’re right, Em.”

“I know I am.” They take a pointed short breath, eyeing the space above Jazmine’s brow. “Is my-”

“Yes, I got everything ready for the tournament. The water and vitamin shake is waiting in the fridge, and your snacks are on the counter to the left of the fridge.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Emanem.”

Cameron had never heard her use that tone before, so warm but moderate; a perfect match to her roommate’s cool demeanor. He wondered what it would feel like to be so in sync with another. With…her. A thread of yearning snaked around his heart, and he tried his best not to breathe too deeply, lest it tug the organ too much. God, I’m pathetic, the ginger groans to himself. His thoughts trail off as Emery pads away, and Jazmine casually points and leads the way to her room.

It’s even more colorful, but tasteful as Cameron was learning Jazmine could be. It almost felt monochromatic. Oranges of all different varieties connect the room. The white walls were the backdrop to vibrant posters featuring orange aliens and bold other-world posters, postcards, and illustration prints. Her daybed frame was a sienna softened by pale, apricot-colored sheets and a burnt-orange comforter. What surprised him the most was an ombré rug that reminded him of the first sunset he watched in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The rug covered most of the hardwood in the room, the texture so soft he couldn’t help but curl his sock-covered feet. Without realizing it, Camerin’s entire upper body lifted as he took a deep breath in, the scent of shea butter and…sandalwood? 

“Wow. This is…wow.”

“Thanks. Well, you can set your stuff in here for now. We have to set up the living room for the incoming circus.”

“Got it. Can I hang up my outfit somewhere?”

“Of course.”

He doesn’t realize he stops breathing as she takes the dresses from him, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and the outfit. Finally, she gives an appreciative nod. 

“I can’t wait to see it on you.”

She turns to the closet as a smile splits his face. Internally, he jumps up and down, but outwardly keeps himself composed. Just barely.

“What about you? What’s your fit?” he manages to ask nonchalantly despite the flutters in his stomach.

“To be determined. I usually let the others decide.”

“Really?” Does that mean I could help and maybe we co–

“Yup,” she shrugs. “I got a variety of clothing, it’s just rare for me to pick new things. And usually we look like we’re going to different occasions, so I’m like the piece that ties it all together.”

“Ahh. That’s cute.”

“I’d like to think so.” Turning away from the closet, she beams at him. “How do you feel about assisting me in the kitchen? I’ve been requested to make appetizers.”

“Sounds amazing. But only if you let me be the tester,” Cameron says in a singsong voice that had Jazmine rolling her eyes. 

“Ha! Only if you can handle the heat.”