My First College Hookup

I guess I was a pretty typical eighteen-year-old girl on move-in day—excited, nervous, happy, sad…in other words, a bit of a mess. It was the first time I’d really been away from my family, with the exception of the occasional weekend with friends. I was scared to move away. After all, my school was nearly a ten-hour car ride from home. I couldn’t come home on regular weekends or anything like that, and being a bit of a daddy’s girl, I definitely knew I was in for a bit of a rude awakening. But, at the same time, how could I not be excited? Moving out, growing up, becoming independent, all the things college signified. And how could I not be pumped for the parties and the cute boys?
Anyways, moving into my dorm was emotional. My mom cried. My sister cried. And then promised to visit with a whisper that we’d scour the school for our Prince Charmings. My dad tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but he was more nervous to see his eldest daughter move out than I was to be moving out. Anyways, I’ll spare you all the details of the goodbyes.
My roommate had already moved in by the time we got there. We’d talked online a few times and she seemed really nice! I could tell by her side of the room—the posters, colors, her pictures—that she was pretty similar to me, and I was really glad to know that we’d likely get along. Before I go on, I should probably describe myself, and my roommate. I’ll start with my roommate.
Her name is Taylor, and my first impression of this girl was that she was gorgeous. She was relatively tall, maybe around five foot eight or nine, with straight blonde hair that came down just past her shoulders. Heart shaped face, stud in her nose, green eyes. She was wearing a tank top that, while not flaunting it, certainly didn’t hide an impressive bust, probably C cups I estimated. She was skinny, and the shirt didn’t quite cover her tummy, so I could see her belly button ring. Another thing for me to envy! Her waist was narrow but her hips flared out, and I could tell she had a nice butt. Her daisy dukes were tight. Like I said, she was a real looker.
My name’s Emma, and I’m one of the few black students at my school, though as far as African-Americans go, I can’t say I’m very dark. I’m five foot four, brown eyes, brown hair with a bit of an auburn tint at times, and it brushes my shoulders.