SEVENTEEN | 8/27/15

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SEVENTEEN | 8/27/15

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SEVENTEEN | 8/27/15

"BABY, CAN YOU please come over to my apartment?" Harrison asks in a croaky voice over the phone, which makes me want to hold him tight and never let go, "I feel fucking terrible."

It hasn't even been a full week of being in the college setting, and he's already sick. Damn his immune system.

"Yeah," I say in response, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder as I grab my keys and backpack, "I'm already leaving my building, Harrison. Just hang tight, alright?"

"You're the best girlfriend ever, Arden," Harrison says, which makes me smile in appreciation. However, after he says that, he falls into a round of violent coughing, "Holy shit, I hate being sick."

"I know," I sympathetically say, "Alright, I'll see you soon."

"Bye, baby."

I finally exit the apartment complex and walk down a few blocks, really enjoying the light breeze of the coming season. It's nice to walk around the city, I discovered, and simply taking in the new change of scenery and starting adapt to it. There's people everywhere; they're either walking, eating at the food trucks, waiting for the bus, listening to some live music. Honestly, it's amazing to experience.

Now, it comes to why I'm walking a few blocks to see my boyfriend, instead of walking a few steps.

Harrison and I agreed to live separately for two reasons. One, we both wanted to get the full of experience of college and roommates and meeting new people. Two, my dad and his parents absolutely refused the idea of the two of us, who are completely attracted to each other, to share an apartment together. That sums it up pretty well.

About ten minutes later, I finally make it to the lobby of Harrison's apartment building. I text my boyfriend to let me inside, already forgetting the number to dial in the lobby. After a few seconds, the familiar sound of a buzz signals that the door is unlocked.

It's crazy to think how everything is slowly starting to become familiar. It used to be the police station, the old lockers of the high school, the warm comfort of my room. Those memories and feeling will always be there, but now it's the buzz of the entrance door, the intricate patterns on the carpet, the trek to Harrison's apartment.

It's the little things that make the bigger picture.

When I get to his place, I find the door propped open.

"Harrison?" I call, closing the door behind me and kicking off my shoes. I enter his bedroom, but he's nowhere to be found. "Harrison?"

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