The First to Fall ⚢

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 • 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚

It takes only a couple of short hours to get the rest of my things unpacked after the floor meeting. I'm content with my choices, but the standard furniture the university provided for us is ruining all of my intentions to have a cute room.

It isn't horrible, necessarily—I mean, I'm grateful that they provide us with something in the first place—but the warm hues of the wooden desk and dresser kind of throw off the whole beachy theme I plan on having for my side of the room. But either way, the theme will have to wait until I get some essentials for my stay here; until I have a set budget in mind to buy some decorations, the only thing that looks cute in here, for now, is going to have to be my bed, which just so happens to be my favorite part of the room so far.

It has the cutest periwinkle blue comforter and a plush white throw blanket folded neatly along the foot of the bed with white pillows to match. The design of the comforter reminds me of the waves in the ocean—one of my favorite things in the entire world—and looks great without being too loud. Perfect.

When I look over at Aspen's side of the room, she's going through the last tub of things that her dad wheeled in here by cart. It seems to be full of special items as I watch how gently she handles the photos and papers inside of it. I tear my eyes away from her before I stare for too long and I look at the decorations she has up instead.

Her entire side is very bohemian and trendy, plastered with neutral-colored butterfly posters and rustic wood shelves, and beige yarn art that hangs right above the head of her bed. Fake vines dress the area around her bed, including the ceiling, and the amount of both real and fake plants scattered around her side is a little concerning. I didn't realize she had such a big thing for plants.

I spot a familiar stuffed animal on her sage green duvet—Mr. Woody. It's the little woodchuck plush she would carry around with her any time we had a long bus ride for one of the countless activities we were involved in.

"You still have that thing?" I ask without thinking. She glances up from the photos in her hand and meets my eyes for a moment before she realizes I'm talking about Mr. Woody. She's had it for as long as I've known her; I thought it would be all matted and gross by now, but it looks to be in decent shape still.

Aspen just shrugs. "I guess so." Her reply is so nonchalant, as if she hardly cares about it, but I doubt she would've taken it across the country with her if it really meant that little. I just nod my head as I hide my skeptical smirk.

"Is your dad staying in town for long?" I ask after a moment of unsettling silence passes. She sighs without looking up from her photos.

"No, he's leaving tonight," she says quickly. "After he takes me out for dinner."

I nod again, trying not to let the awkward silence push me to ask another stupid question until her phone buzzes on her desk. She snatches it with haste and glues her eyes to the screen as we hear a knock at our door.