I snatched them out of her hands and shoved them into the empty drawer. “Stay away from there and stick to the boxes if you insist on helping me unpack.”

“Aren’t I the boss?”

“The nosy boss.”

I jogged down the stone stairs at the back of the building. At least I was on the ground floor and didn’t have to trudge things multiple flights, but it had the downside of facing the quad where weekend revelers congregated. I’d have to rig up an elaborate pulley and bucket system to ward them off, although in the summer it would hopefully be better.

Being on campus was weird now. I wasn’t a student anymore. I was an employee. Temporary employee. My final summer on campus. Graduation had been less than a week ago. I was a college graduate. I was a bona fide adult with no more excuses to avoid joining the real world. And I didn’t feel any different. Well, except maybe the crushing dread of being an adult and not knowing what the hell to do with my life.

I grabbed the last box from my car and slammed the trunk closed. My temporary move-in tag hung from the rearview mirror. I’d have to go park it once I dropped off the box.

An older man in a wind breaker and khakis with a healthy glow that I didn’t think came from tanning, but from a lot of time outside, stopped me on the steps up to the dorm.

“Excuse me, I’m from the LA Lions, they said I should look for someone in a lime shirt.”

I looked down at my lime green Residence Hall Staff t-shirt. “That’s me. What did you need help with?”

“Did you want me to get that for you?” He gestured to the box.

“It’s not that heavy, and I’m only taking it over there.” I nodded toward the propped open door.

“A few of our players are arriving early today and we only have the coaching staff keys. Could we get the keys to their rooms?

“Of course. The Resident Director and I can help you out with those. If you stop by Resident Director’s Office right inside the main entrance with the room numbers, we can get you those keys. They finished setting up all the apartments and inspected them yesterday, so you’re good to go.”

He nodded and walked away.

I walked into my room.

“What’s Dare?” She wiggled the notebook with brown curled pages in front of her face.

The box slipped from my hands, crashing to the ground. Text books and other random knickknacks toppled out.

“Did you chronicle games of Truth or Dare growing up? A bucket list?” She teased.

My ribs tightened as Felicia flipped through my worn green-and-white notebook. If only it were something so silly and embarrassing, something frivolous and forgotten. Instead, it was a cross section of my broken heart committed to the page. The edges of the paper curled and stained with tears I promised I’d never spill again.