Southern Belle

Ch. 4 Let's Talk About Love

Ever get that feeling like millions of butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach?

Well, I had that feeling right now.

My fingers slowly punched the keys on the library's ancient PC as I put in my username and password. Today, about two and a half weeks after I mailed my confirmation letter to Stanford, an email arrived in my AOL.com inbox, alerting me that my roommate had been picked.

God, I had to admit that I was quite nervous.

However, I wasn't as nervous as I was when I held the Stanford letter in my hands the first time, but this was still pretty nerve-wrecking. I was  going to find out who I was going to live with for the next year of my life, and because my personality frequently clashed with others, I hoped that this person was at least tolerable.

I shakily moved my mouse and clicked onto the red button, opening the results. My eyes flickered over to the survey, which all of the Stanford freshman had to take. Basically, the roommates were given at random; I was only able to choose whether I wanted to have one or two roommates--I chose one roommate. Then, I was ordered to fill out this lame survey, so my roommate and I could learn more about each other. 

My eyes moved  to the top of the survery and went down:

Name: Elise Monroe

Favorite color: Chartreuse

 Now I knew that she has a bad taste for color.

Town: Beverly Hills, California

A loud groan escaped my lips, causing one of the tiny little librarian ladies to rudely shush me and to give me a cold stare. Although I had only read where this Elise Monroe was from, I knew that Beverly Hills was a wealthy town, and therefore, she probably had millions of dollars sitting in a back somewhere. We were probably going to be polar opposites, repelled because of each other's lifestyle differences.

Hobbies: Going to fashion shows, spending time with friends at my local country club, going to the spa, shopping, traveling the world, yachting (on my boat, Elise)

She owned a yacht? I owned a bike.

Siblings/Relatives: I'm an only child, but I'm very close with my cousins. One of my cousins, Nick Monroe, is also going to be attending Stanford University as a freshman this year.

What was something great that happened this week: I sat next to Kim Kardashian at a fashion show, and I talked her out of cutting her hair to get bangs. Bangs--God no!

There was a lot more written, but with each word on the page, my stomach twisted and turned into knots. My roommate was basically a rich, only child, who had no brain cells in her head whatsoever. Unlike her, I had a large family, and I honestly didn't give a damn if my nails were perfectly polished or not. 

We were going to be great friends! Not.

"Hey, congrats on getting into Stanford. Sorry that I hadn't congratulated you in person. I had basketball practice everyday for a week; then I had my final exams. Now, I'm free, so I came to congratulate you," Ash interrupted my thoughts as he took the seat next to me, his voice shaky as the words flew out of his mouth. He was wearing his bright red Nike shorts that fell right above his knee. A thin layer of sweat pooled on his abdomen, and the top of his bright, blond hair stuck to his forehead slightly. He most likely just had his last basketball practice of the season.

Translation of Ash's excuse: You rejected my 'date' awkwardly by running away screaming, "Abs," and I didn't know how to confront you.

"Thank you. I got your flowers and your card; your father also came to see me, and he explained the situation." The ends of my mouth tilted upwards. My hand slowly moved the mouse to click out of the school website. Once I did that, I turned my body towards him, so I could give him eye contact.