Honestly, it’s overwhelming. Parents and siblings and grandparents of virtual strangers buzz around me, and I can’t remember any of their names. But I do learn a good deal about my suitemates in a short amount of time.

Aaron is the first to arrive, and he basically looks like a young Instagram version of Gaston, all burly and muscly, parading around in one of those tank tops that’s cut so far down the side, he might as well be wearing nothing at all. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing. Half of his stuff is “packed” in garbage bags instead of suitcases. He wastes no time unloading a small set of free weights in the common room and telling me I can “use them whenever, fam.”

“Nice. Thanks.” Because I totally work out.

His two older brothers are busy carting in cases of beer disguised in empty Capri Sun boxes. Their parents both make a few judgy under-the-breath comments about our small “elite” arts college, and I catch the mom looking at vaguely racist Facebook memes as I come out of my room. That’s my cue to stay far, far away. I doubt Aaron mentioned to his family that one of his suitemates is very, very gay.

Xavier arrives next with an older sister, his grandma, and an aunt, and immediately he’s quite possibly the coolest person I’ve ever met. He’s quiet at first, dancing around Aaron and his family, who don’t say much to him. But he’s quick to decorate half of his dorm room with the most stunning portraits of Black women I’ve ever seen. The lighting is electric and layered and exquisite. Then I see his cameras and photography equipment and the signatures—a sweeping X with a cool squiggle—on the bottom of the portraits, confirming they’re his work. Xavier looks like Michael B. Jordan in his tight white tee, black joggers, and Ray-Bans—indoors!—through which he stealthily checks out Aaron. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.

Once they’re unpacked, they each go out for lunch and shopping sprees at the nearest Target with their respective families, leaving me alone yet again. Both Aaron and Xavier asked me to tag along, but that would have been super awkward, so I stayed behind.

The only person who hasn’t shown up yet is my actual roommate.

“Where the hell do you think he is?” Rae asks over FaceTime. “Do you think he saw just how gay you are and ran screaming? Or maybe he saw how hot all your suitemates are, including you, and simply couldn’t measure up.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” My voice falters as I walk around the quiet suite, now filled with boxes and suitcases and knickknacky crap that wasn’t here last night.

“Relax. I’m sure this Benigno character is cool,” she says. “And if he isn’t, I’ll come over there and kick his ass. I do have a—”

“A black belt in karate, yes, I know,” I finish for her.

She’s silent for a few minutes. “Guess who I heard from today?”