Smothered Emotions

Chapter 1

Chatter. Chatter buzzed through my ears as I walked through Holloway University.  Students filled with anxiety frantically raced through the campus, investigating each building for their desired class number. I was one of these students. I watched the freshmen wander like lost puppies as they squinted at their maps. The upperclassmen strolled as if their legs were made of lead. Some were walking directionless with their eyes fixated on their phones, while others crowded at tables chirping away in gossip. 

Sweet summer breeze caressed my face as I stepped through campus. I checked my phone, hoping I still had time to get disoriented before class. 10:15, I had at least fifteen minutes. My stomach rumbled, and I shooshed it, hoping to attend to it later today. How I wished I wasn't a procrastinator. As I clasped my cold flask of lemon water in one hand, I searched for the map I had studied diligently the day before. The map had been resting in the depths of my backpack, and I attempted to flatten out its wrinkles, but they insisted on making their mark.

I scanned the bustling campus and its surroundings to get a clue of where I was. Caden Market was to my right and Juniper Hall to my left. I shut my flask and placed it in the side pocket of my backpack. With both my hands-free, I managed to identify where I was, but the map still read like hieroglyphics. How did people read these back then? I'm sure I looked insane as I tried squinting, closing one eye, even turning the map upside down.

Concentration was not on my side today. Suddenly, heat coursed through my blood, causing my muscles to stiffen in protest. The map floated to the ground and rested on the blistering concrete. Anxiety, infatuation, hunger, thirst, anguish, discomfort. These were a fraction of the emotions my body absorbed as I searched for a neighboring bench. I was a sponge in a sea of oil. I tried to fend off the emotions of the people surrounding me unsuccessfully. Hot flashes assaulted me while I clasped the arm of a metal bench. My ears recoiled as a piercing sound infiltrated their canals. While my hearing was being highjacked, a dagger of air shot through my lungs, causing me to hyperventilate.

Breath in. Breath out. I took one last hefty breath in as I squeezed my eyes shut. Blackness was all I could see before I began to envisioned a cracked wall sealing up with cement; the flood dissipated. The shrill noise subsided, and my eyes fluttered open. Heat oozed off my skin, leaving goosebumps on the now cool surface. Nothing. That was all that was left after my wall had been sealed. I knew skipping my morning run was a bad idea. I meditated for a few minutes hoping my body wouldn't fail me again. Great, I was already exhausted before my first class.

I stood up, stabilizing my legs, and scanned the pavement for the map. It had drifted to a trash can perched next to a writing club poster. I noted the time and date for the first meet up as I grabbed the map. The wind attempted to wrestle it out of my hands, but I managed to clasp it before it swooped out of my reach. The map was even more disheveled, and I sighed in dismay while searching for my location on the map, back to the start line. Once again, I reestablished my ritual: squinting, closing one eye, turning the map upside down. I guess I was doomed to miss my class while meandering through this labyrinth.

"Need help?" a gorgeous boy asked in a husky low voice. He strolled toward me with the upperclassmen swagger I had seen before. "Sorry, I saw you were struggling to read your map, so I thought I should intervene. I'm Henry, by the way." I giggled faintly, glad my dark skin couldn't reveal the heat emitting off my cheeks.

"I'm Olivia," I replied. "I know I should've spent my weekend looking for my classes on campus, but unfortunately, I'm a procrastinator."

"I totally understand. Which class are you heading to?" He shifted to stand adjacent to me and hovered over my shoulder to get a peek of my map. His figure towered over me.

"Intro to methodology, it's an English class." I turned to look at him closer, getting lost in his penetrating brown eyes. Sighing under my breath, I turned my head to not make my attraction obvious to him.

"Oh, that's the class I'm in! It must be your lucky day." He chuckled faintly, "don't worry, I know the way."

He nodded towards our right, and we made our way through the winding pavement ahead. I marveled at all the diverse plant life. The colors danced through the pathway in a coordinated but distinct way. More bees buzzed around us, waltzing with the colors. I was suddenly starved for a  honey-flavored baked good.

"So, are you an English major too?" I asked as I attempted to fold my map as elegantly as possible. I gave up once I realized these wrinkles were battling each crease I formed.

"No, I'm a political science major, but I'm thinking of minoring in English because I love literature. I'm guessing you're an English major?" he smirked, craning his neck to look at me.

"Yeah, I want to be a writer one day, so I took the obvious choice for a major. My parents almost had an aneurysm when I told them which major I was declaring, but what can you expect from African parents, right?" I'm sure my mom was diligently praying, hoping I would decide to be a STEM major. I could see my dad vocalizing his annoyance through groans as he walked through the house. I snickered softly under my breath at the thought.

"African, huh. Well, my mom's Filipina, so you can probably guess how she reacted when I told her I wasn't going into medicine," he laughed softly, making an abrupt turn to the right. It was hard keeping up with his long legs, but luckily he acknowledged my pace and relaxed his speed.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were black for some reason." I laughed.

"Oh, I am. My dad's black." He said, pointing to his curly head of hair.

"That's an interesting combination."

It really was considering how hard it was for me not to stare at him for too long. I'm sure if his political science degree didn't work out, he could easily transition to modeling. "So, what are you planning on doing after undergrad?" He stalled in front of the building I had agonized over to find. Whoever built this campus despised college students. 

"I want to be a prosecutor," he said as he held the door open for me. The cold air slapped me as I walked past him. I felt my armpits take a sigh of relief as air-conditioning surrounded me.

"Cool, so are you one of those social justice warriors, or do you just like the idea of being in a courtroom?"

"I would say it's a mix of both. I'm honestly not sure if I really want to be a prosecutor, so I'm keeping my options open."

"Oh, so you have commitment issues. Noted." He chuckled heartily. Good, he thinks I'm amusing. We made our way to the stairwell and started climbing our way up. I don't know what it is with college students and their animosity for elevators, but I vehemently disagree.

"I wouldn't say that. I just don't want to get tunnel vision for one thing and then get disappointed by the result. What if you got your degree and realized you hated writing?" He raised his brow at me thinking his question was oh so clever.

"That would never happen. I love writing, and I've been doing it since I could read." I smiled smugly, ignoring his scoff.

"Okay, miss perfect."

We finally got it to the third floor and made our way through the corridor. 354. My favorite numbers at the moment. We walked through the front door, and immediately, everyone's eyes were on Henry. I couldn't blame them. That man could be nominated for People's Sexiest Man Alive. I was still furious about Blake Shelton getting nominated a few years ago. What a cursed year. I accompanied Henry to the back of the class, and he sat in front of another good-looking boy. Man, Holloway is incredible.