Classes don’t start for another three days, so I’m not too worried that only one more of our roommates has moved in by Friday evening. We were told that kids would be moving in all weekend; I just insisted that I be there on the actual day that they let us in—yeah… I’m that girl.

Jen and I clicked with Carly the minute she walked through the door Friday morning. Uber-nice is putting it lightly, but she is not at all fake. Ditzy, yes, but not in a let’s-save-mankind-and-drown-her kind of way. She has gorgeous light brown hair that is paper straight, and sapphire blue eyes. She has curves for days, which I’m sure attracts lots of male attention, but I get the feeling she is a tad self-conscious.

Jen’s never said another word about my dad, and I’m totally okay with that. I came here to get away from the old me, the me who was swallowed up by her father’s death. I don’t know if Jen is uncomfortable with my past; or she just doesn’t judge me for it. Either way, I am thankful for her and the fresh start.

Our Three Musketeers status is cemented pretty quickly. Once Carly is settled in, we go exploring, checking out the neighbors who we could find, the bookstore, and the dining hall—which, by the way, has the best and largest waffles known to man. I can feel myself drooling, and I can already feel my curves expanding at the sight of those huge disks of breakfast perfection; if I’m not careful, the ‘freshman fifteen’ would turn into the ‘freshman thirty’. I am on the short side…who am I kidding?...I’m a hobbit with shoes. So needless to say, any pound gained is definitely a pound seen. There is nowhere to hide it. Not to say I’m husky or big-boned or whatever the new politically correct term is, I’m just average. I’m not gorgeous like Amanda, I’m not super-tiny like Jen, nor am I full-figured. I am more the athletic build; I rock the 3Bs: b-cup and a bubble butt. Yep, I’m average, which means I’m not noticeable. I’m not beautiful, but not ugly, just average, and that’s okay by me.

“I say we stay in tonight, hang out, and then tomorrow meet some people on campus after waffle time; hopefully my roommate will be here by then,” Carly says, hanging over the end of the couch, her long hair sweeping across the floor, as she, no doubt, is trying to digest the massive subs we just inhaled for dinner.

I could not agree with her more, especially about the waffles. “Good idea, I don’t think I could even move at this point. Let’s just put PJs on and watch movies, or play a board game or something.”

Slowly we all gather ourselves off the floor and couch to get ready for our chick-flick-o-Rama evening.

We each take our turns in the bathroom, scrubbing the remains of the day off our faces and changing into our pajamas. In my most comfortable yoga pants and tank top, my long auburn hair piled high on top of my head, and wrapped in my favorite fleece blanket, I make it back out to the living area. We all come armed with our movie selections, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Sixteen Candles, and Pride and Prejudice.

We get settled and start the first movie; of course, we all love a little Mr. Darcy time.

“I don’t know; I think if I had the choice, I would want the Jane and Mr. Bingley love story,” Carly says, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jen turns to her wide-eyed, mouth open and just stares at Carly.

“WHAT!” Jen screeches once she gathers her voice. “Mr. Darcy is soooo worth swooning over. I would chop off my left arm just to have the chance to have a guy say those things to me.”

“Why can’t it just be a quiet, comfortable relationship? Jane and Mr. Bingley were smitten, just not over the top.” Both look to me to settle the argument. Good call, guys. Yeah, ask me, the girl who has never been in love, the girl who hates what love can do to a person. I’m not sure if I’m even capable of that emotion; I’m too afraid of losing my heart to ever take the risk.

Dodging the question, I get up to refill my soda and start another bag of popcorn for the next movie. When I get back, they are still waiting for my answer. Well shit…think, think, think. Act like a girl; what is the girly, touchy feeling thing to say? SHIT!

Out of desperation, I finally blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Carly, while Jane and Charles were absolutely adorable, and it was evident that they cared for one another, I think what Jen is saying is that they lacked the fire that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth obviously had. I guess there is no right answer. They each had two different kinds of love; the real question is, what kind of love do you want?”

Jen’s glazed-over look tells me immediately that I’m either half-crazy, or it went totally over her head. Yep, the girl with no heart strikes again.

“Okay, so I have no idea what in the world you just said, but what I do know is that if you aren’t in my Lit class this semester, I’m so transferring to yours. You can definitely help with my literary impairment. I could never come up with something like that, and I have a feeling that my GPA will need every little bit of help it can get.”

“Oh, my God, I am not cheating for you!” I shout, hitting her with a pillow.

“Hey, I didn’t say cheat,” she says, grabbing the pillow from my hands and resting it behind her head. “But a little assistance never hurt anything. I swear you’re like a walking, talking style guide; it would be a shame to not put that brain to use to help others.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her very thorough defense of what I consider bending, if not breaking, the rules. Despite my resistance, I know that I will probably help her out. Damn, I’ll probably end up writing some of her papers myself. I shake my head, “You are going to get me in so much trouble this year; I can already tell.”

“I surely hope so; this is college. We are supposed to have fun!”

“Just don’t get me arrested.” I have never been in any real trouble before, but I’m sure that phone call home would not go well. Knowing my mom, she’d let me sit in the cell all night to think about what I did, just like when I would get sent to my room as a kid for picking on Amanda. Then after letting me sweat it out, she’d drive up here and drag me home.

“Anyway, so Carly, are you scared you got matched with a dud for a roommate? We can always make a special bed on the floor in our room if she turns out to be completely terrifying,” I tease.

“Just for that, you can’t come dancing tomorrow night. I’ll invite all my new nice friends to The Suite. It should be packed because it’s the last Saturday before school; I thought we could all go.”

“Oh, come on, I’m just teasing. I’m sure she won’t be too bad; you know, maybe she’ll be like a Tarantino gun slinger or something.”

“It would be nice if we get along, but really, as long as she sticks to her side of the room and doesn’t borrow weird things like underwear or anything, I think we’ll be good.”

“Seriously? Underwear, Carly?” I ask skeptically. I’m not sure I would be okay even looking at their underwear, let alone stealing it and then wearing it. That ranks up there with crazy lint-stealing guy who keeps girls’ dryer lint from the Laundromat in his pocket and smells it all day. I’m not sure he exists, but my mom sure warned me of such creatures when she explained college basement Laundromat safety on the drive here.

“Well, you never know! My sister said that her roommate in college had no concept of personal space. She borrowed her B.O.B., and my sister found it under the girl’s pillow!”

“Oh, my God! That is absolutely nasty!” Jen shouts with a body shiver to help enunciate her complete disdain. I smile, but I am clearly lost in the conversation.

“What is a B.O.B.?” I ask casually. Jen looks at me like I’m insane and have escaped the state hospital.

“You have got to be kidding me. It’s every girl’s trusty companion; you never leave home without it,” Jen defends.