Page 6 of Awakening
As the campus buzzed with August heat and nervous energy, I saw families hauling boxes, RAs calling out dorm assignments, and the distant thud of music from a welcome fair already in full swing. I stood by my assigned dorm building, shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand, duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of no one watching.
No sneers from James.
No silent apology in my mother’s every glance.
Just me.
And the choice to show up as myself.
I took a deep breath. The air smelled like sun-warmed brick, grass, and cheap cologne. New air. New rules. New name on my lips, even if it was still mine.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself, “Let’s be brave.”
I hoisted my bag higher and walked through the building doors. My apartment-like dorm was still empty when I arrived—a living area, a kitchen, and two rooms. My room held a full-size bed, a desk, and smelled of pine cleaner clinging to every surface. Dropping my bag on the floor near my bed, and sitting down, palms pressed to my thighs, a smile eased onto my face—FREEDOM.
I pulled out the photo strip from my wallet.
Not of family. But of myself, at different stages in life, the one thing always evident in the pictures is that my smile never reached my eyes.
“Maverick?”
I turned at the sound of my name, startled, finding myself face-to-face with the other half of the dorm.
Knox Fairfax.
At first glance, he’s strikingly handsome and effortlesslycharismatic, just from the way he said my name, exuding a quiet confidence that draws people in. His smooth, deep brown skin housed a close-shaven beard that framed a strong, symmetrical face. His eyes are warm and expressive, with a sharp, steady gaze that suggests depth, intelligence, and empathy.
A neatly trimmed fade, polished and intentional, complemented his well-defined jawline and high cheekbones. Dressed in Ralph Lauren from head to toe minus the Jordan 1s on his feet, he’s clean-cut but still rugged.
“You must be my roommate,” he said, stepping inside. “I’m Knox. I run track, hoping to make the team, Nutritional Sciences major, but trying not to flunk Algebra in the first two weeks.”
Everything about Knox suggested a ladies’ man, especially in how he presented himself and how he moved. There's a quiet strength in his expression, the kind of man who speaks volumes even before he says a word.
Blinking as I took in his casual confidence.
“Yep, Maverick Carter, but everyone calls me Blue. Football player, kicker. Nursing program. I’m also gay, so if that’s going to be an issue, we should talk to housing now and get our room assignments changed,” I blurted out, tearing the band-aid off.
He chuckled, the smile remaining on his face, and before he could stop himself, he said, “You brought a plant.”
I grinned. “He’s emotional support. I call him Quincy. Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment here,” Knox assured me as he glanced at Quincy, “I dig it, it’s got good vibes.”
We both laughed, and something inside me eased. The knot I hadn’t realized formed in my chest immediately dissipated.
Knox set his things down, then glanced at the mirror. “That you?”
I stiffened for a second, but nodded, “Yeah, me over the years,and the last pic was from graduation, before I stopped pretending to be someone I wasn’t.”
Knox looked at the photo, then back at me. “You look like you were waiting for this place.”
My heart stuttered.
“I was.”
Knox didn’t push. Just gave me a soft smile and said, “Well, you made it.”
