A dorm. A bed. How many? I guess you’ll have to read to find out.
Dear Reader, all of the events told below are purely fictional. Harry Styles has never been a student at Columbia University and has no affiliation with it, though we may wish differently. This is the second part of a saga that started last spring. Read at your own discretion.
I hate move-in days. After being put on Columbia’s sophomore housing waitlist for most of the summer, I was finally assigned a room in…Hartley Hall. I wasn’t excited about that, but it’s not the worst that could happen. We all know what the worst Columbia sophomore building is.
Anyway, I took the assignment in stride. I’ve always wanted to experience living in a close-knit suite, especially because I have a double—but no roommate. So I guess that’s a single…with double space…a dingle? I’m not sure.
On move-in day, I made my way to Hartley Hall after struggling with my parking options to unload my things. The sweaty, humid air immediately hit me as I opened the doors to students buzzing in the lobby and lounge. Some clamored to the Hartley Hospitality Desk because they had already lost their IDs. Ugh, freshmen. Carrying all of my sophomore grace, I made my way to the lounge to grab one of those heinous blue rolling bins and check in.
The process is fairly short, so I go outside to grab my things and go back inside when I bump into him…Harry. I hadn’t seen him since last year. We didn’t speak to each other after that encounter in the elevator. Apparently, we wouldn’t speak today either because I watched his piercing green orbs stare at me and then travel away. Maybe he’s not interested. Or maybe he’s just watching me try to fit this blue bin through the narrow doors. Staring at Harry made an entire line of my peers form behind me.
I try to recover from the encounter when I realize: what was he doing here? Surely, he doesn’t live in this building, too. Maybe he forgot his ID? I can attribute that irresponsible nature to him. Whatever, I’m not too concerned. I pull the blue bin behind me and wait for the elevator, which has to ascend and descend twice to lift the line of students. By the time I get to my suite door, I’m antsy to see my room. I open the door and go down the hall, ready to slide my ID in the door when I realize…the door needs a hard key. Another trip.
I turn around and see my friend in the hallway. “Hi, Y/N!”
“Hi!” I respond as she goes in for a hug. I guess going back downstairs can wait. “It’s so great to see you. How was your summer?”
“It was phenomenal. I was in Venice for most of it brushing up on my Italian,” she replied in the most Columbia way.
“That sounds amazing. I have to go get my key, but I’ll see you when I get back,” I say, trying to dismiss the conversation for now.
“Oh, by the way,” she interrupts, “have you met your roommate yet? You have the only double here, and I was wondering if there was anyone else in there with you.”
“Uh no, not that I know of. Have you seen anyone go in?” I’m nervous.
“No, I was just wondering,” she smiles.
I hope there’s no one else in my room. I don’t want to check the Housing portal again, so I’ll leave it all to surprise. But I really hope I can keep my dingle.
On the way down in the elevator, all I can think about is Harry. I wish I had spoken to him more since last year. I know we both spent the summer in New York doing an internship, but I never connected with him. The city is large, but every day on my walk to work, I would hope to see him and get a glimpse of his beautiful orbs.
The elevator doors open, and I head back to the check-in area and receive a key. I think everyone forgot that I needed one early—including myself. The trip was almost unnecessary, but it was a fairly quick process.
I go back to my suite and attempt to unlock my door, but it’s already unlocked.
I twist the door handle to open the door, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Harry Styles is my roommate.
And there was only one bed.
To be continued…
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