You'd forgotten. Weems had assigned you a co-ed room.

Which meant a room with boys.

An uneasy silence choked the wooden dorm room like smog. You'd clearly severed an important conversation between the two boys. They leaned toward each other on opposing twin beds, but their heads shot up sharply at your unexpected entrance. 

Judging by the first boy's rigid posture and the second's curious frown, they hadn't known Weems had thoughtlessly gifted them a new roommate. Just your luck. 

You whisked into the room and bouncily plopped onto the free bed, dangling your legs. You weren't the most tactful of girls. Besides, when you wanted something, people usually staggered to get out of your way. 

"Woah, woah, woah," the second boy sprung out of his bed, crossing his wiry arms and eying you skeptically. "You're not supposed to be in here." His soft, dirty-blond hair flowed just around his neck. 

"Oh, I'm (y/n)," you announced, cheekily beaming back at the moody-faced boy. You paused dramatically. "Your new roommate." 

"Oh, I'm Xavier." The boy cocked his head to the side, green eyes burning with a steadiness most people would call intimidating. "Not your new roommate." 

You choked out a short, incredulous laugh. He'd mimicked you. This Xavier might prove harder to bend than you'd thought. 

"But you're a girl," blurted the shorter boy, bundled in corduroy pajamas with thin blue stripes running down the fabric. Thick black glasses balanced on his slightly bulbous nose. 

"Well done, detective," you sarcastically congratulated, unzipping your suitcase and beginning to unpack. The massive wooden room consisted of three spacious beds and three desks. Tattered pages plastered over one corner, covered with rough sketches, squares of color, and swirly paintings. An unbidden smile crept across your face. One of the boys was an artist, like your best friend Macie from back home. 

"Who gave you a key?" Xavier demanded, shattering the wistful thought. "Weems?"

"Yes, Weems," you confirmed, pulling five pairs of designer high heels out of your suitcase: pink, black, baby blue, red, and white. You arranged them in a row like delightful pets. "Xavier, which pair should I wear tomorrow?" 

Xavier gave a disbelieving scoff, but he receded back to his bed. You smugly fluffed out your uniform, gently laying it out across your desk for tomorrow. The first day of classes. Tomorrow, you'd splash into Nevermore's social scene. 

 You snuggled under your blush-pink covers, sinking your head into the soft pillow. 

"I'm talking to Weems tomorrow," Xavier warned, flicking the lights off and tugging his deep blue blankets up to his waist. "So don't get too comfortable." 

Silence. 

"And you should wear the black shoes tomorrow." 

You smiled up at the ceiling in the darkness.