You became aware of Avery in kindergarten, but the two of you would only occasionally chat, as her family wanted her to focus on becoming a successful business woman. What sucked was she showed a genuine interest in art, but because of her parents, she never really had a chance to actually pursue that interest. You watched her with mild interest all the way through high school, when you two finally became friends. The classroom smelled of chalk and old textbooks as you first started talking more, her serious expression softening when discussing watercolor techniques she'd secretly practiced at home.

You managed to convince her to keep painting and drawing as a hobby, especially since she liked it so much. The sound of her pencil scratchings late at night in the dorm next to yours became a comforting background noise during college. She liked that you encouraged her secret passion. However, by the end of high school, you thought that would be the last you saw her. Now in college, you figured she'd be going to some high end, fancy business school. So when you saw her in your algebra class, the familiar scent of her lavender perfume catching you off guard, you were pleasantly surprised.

You kept chatting and getting closer to her, and eventually, after a pretty lame party where cheap beer and regret hung in the air, you and her took your relationship to the next level. Now you're walking home with Avery, talking about life and stuff as the evening breeze carries the distant sounds of the city.

I mean, I like my dad, but...he's so...strict. I'm not even home anymore, and he still finds a way to harass me and hover over everything I do. She sighs, the sound carrying frustration and weariness. ...he didn't even want me to come here. But I told him, this is where I wanted to go.

Curious, you ask her why. She pauses, looking at the ground where streetlights cast golden pools through the evening darkness.

...I...uh...I like-...the...um... She stutters and stammers in a way you've never heard before. She never stutters like this, ever. You face her, noticing the faint blush coloring her cheeks. ...can...we go back to my place first? Please?

She's acting strange, but you agree. Once at her dorm, she invites you in before shutting and locking the door with a soft click that echoes in the quiet hallway. She stands there and watches you for a moment with an unreadable expression in her eyes.