Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

Evan

Summer passes by as I sit in my room, studying my ass off.

It’s the perfect way to tune the world out and prepare for Harvard all at once. I go through all of my old textbooks, read through the chapters, and complete the study guides. Not everyone gets such an amazing opportunity like me to attend one of the best schools in the world. I need to grab it by the balls and take charge.

I have little control in the rest of my life. Like my love life.

And being sucked into EPE again.

When I’m not studying, I’m working out. It took me only two months to let go completely, and I can’t believe how out-of-shape I got. I loathe the gym, so I do my cardio elsewhere, jogging through the neighborhood when it’s cool enough outside. And I go swimming.

I love swimming. I love how the water fills my ears and the entire world is silent. It’s like I can almost feel my brain taking a break.

When it’s finally time to say goodbye to California for the year, it’s less hard than I thought. I’m getting over the heartbreak of Dallas, and I know I’ll be seeing Britain and Delilah in a couple of weeks anyway.

The only hard goodbye is Mom.

My mother is a smart woman. When explaining my breakup with Dallas, she waves her hand in front of her face. “You’ll get over him the moment you enter that sea of East Coast boys. I promise you.”

And that is literally the end of the conversation.

She makes me vegan potpie the day before my flight leaves. We stay up all night to watch crappy soap operas and I fall asleep on the couch. When she shakes me awake, it is 3:30 in the morning. She tells me my flight leaves in three hours and I burst into tears, pulling her into a hug.

Nothing says boring like a United flight across the continental U.S. I order two vodka sodas on the rocks over the course of the trip and barely keep my buzz from it.

I don’t get nervous until I’m in the airport and have to find my way to the train that will take me to Cambridge. With a little help from airport security, I manage to buy a ticket from an automated machine and locate the train station outside the airport. I’ve already downloaded maps of Harvard onto my phone, and it shouldn’t take long at all to walk from the train stop to campus. I already did the college dorm thing when I was a freshman. I’m a pro at this.

So why is my heart pounding?

Because you’re away from home, Evan. You’re alone.

I take in deep breaths through my nose. The train slows, and I get off at my stop. This isn’t Cali. Only the middle of September here and it feels like January back home. I pull my sweater tighter around me as I lug my massive rolling suitcase behind me with my other hand. Setting my GPS, I follow the streets to the most prestigious university in the U.S.

I’m in Perkins Hall. I chose it because it was the exact opposite of any kind of dorm room I’ve ever seen in the western United States. It’s what you imagine when you think of New England and Ivy League. Dark brick, old pillars—even the smell inside of the building screams that it’s been here forever. It’s a drastic change from home. I chose to move here before I knew that I was breaking up with Dallas, but now that I have, it seems completely appropriate.

Starting fresh in all aspects of my life.

I receive my room key and sign off some paperwork with my RA. The hall is strangely quiet—so much different than my experience at East Park my freshman and sophomore year of college, especially on moving day. Those roaming the halls are dressed in nice clothes and tote rolling suitcases behind them instead of the duffels and cardboards boxes undergrads usually lug into the dorms. I think that graduate students realize most of the shit you bring to your dorm room ends up going unused anyway. Too much time is spent studying and partying to need anything more than clothes and a laptop.

My room is on the second floor. I make my way up the stairwell and down the narrow hall to room 212. Unlocking the door, I allow it to swing open only to be incredibly underwhelmed.

The room is about eight feet by twelve feet. There’s a small window at the end with dingy blinds and a bed. Typical dorm, but even smaller than I’m used to, because almost all graduate dorms are for single dwellers.

I roll my suitcase to the middle of the floor and sit on the mattress. I’m pretty good at being alone. Having a hard major during my undergrad meant a whole lot of time spent alone. But I always had my dorm mate to come back to. And then later, when I was a junior and a senior, I always had Britain and Delilah.

There’s that kind of alone, and then there’s this. My heart clenches in my chest. This is going to be a bitch getting used to.

“Damn, you’ve got a way better view than me.”

A tall blonde guy stands in my doorway, leaning up against the wall like he owns the place. His hair is thick and wavy and falls to his chin, and when he looks from the window to me, he smiles warmly. For a blonde, his skin is really tan—he isn’t from around here. He’s also pretty cute.

He holds out a hand. “Sorry. Miles.”

“Hi, Miles, I’m Evan.”

“Trying to meet everyone on the floor right now. Less awkwardness later.”

“Understandable.”

His grin gets bigger. “You’re my neighbor.” He points to the room directly across from me. “What are you studying?”

“Chemical biology.”

“Ah, smart, I see. I’m getting my master’s in English.”

Ugh. Who would get a master’s in English? How pointless. Of course, I don’t say that. I just nod and grin. “Nice.”

“Where are you from?”

“California.”

“What school’d you go to?”

“East Park.”

“Ah, East Park! I heard they have a great porn mag coming off that campus. You wouldn’t happen to be a porn star, would you?”

My breath catches in my throat. Caught, caught, fucking caught. I’ve been on campus for three minutes—how the hell did this—

He busts up laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I mean, not about the porn mag. Did you know about that?”

I exhale out of my mouth and shrug. “Too busy in the lab to be paying attention to anything on campus.”

“Thank God I don’t know that feeling. You headed to the barbeque?”

“The what?”

“The welcome barbeque for Perkins hall.”

“How can there be a barbeque? It’s fifty degrees out.”

“I know, I know. I’m from San Diego. Not used to this weather either.” He pushes his hand through his hair and looks around. “Alright, now that I’ve probably scared you to death with talk of porn and fifty-degree barbeques…” he points behind him. “I’m gonna head out. Nice to meet you, Evan.”

I hold my hand up. “You too. See you around.”

Miles leaves, and I stare at the empty doorway like it’s on fire. If today weren’t strange and jarring enough, Miles just topped the cake.

As I close my door, my phone buzzes once in my pocket. I pull it out to see a message from Britain.

Really hope that you’ve started working out. AA (haha, like alcoholics anonymous) re-evaulated our time at Cambridge and decided we needed an extra week, so we’ll be there in eight days.

Eight days.

Eight days?

I have orientation for my program tomorrow. I start lab work next week. More likely than not, my professors will grind us to the bone from the very start to make sure we’re up for the challenge. On top of it, I’m starting my internship for research on the first of October.

And now the EPE crew is flying out in a week.

I have to keep reminding myself that it’s just one more issue. One more issue and I’m done forever.