2- food run

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The hardest part to move is the couch. William has an IKEA couch that can have the backrest and the seating area taken apart, as well as the legs but he didn't do that since his dad helped him load up the truck, and then there we were, just him and I and a large sofa to move to the second-floor apartment. We got it, eventually, and with a lot of rests and awkward squeals of:

"Wait, stop. Set it down. What if we just slide it? Do you think the neighbors would want to help?"

At around five o'clock, six hours or so since my unloading journey started, we made an empty apartment look like a disaster zone. There are boxes in the rooms, there are boxes in the kitchen, there are boxes in the bathroom, and there is surely a lot of boxes in the living room. So many, in fact, that instead of using William's sound couch as a rest spot, I sit on top of one of the boxes labeled as 'clothes' and decide that's where I want to be uninterrupted for the next thirty minutes.

"Thank you so much for your help." William sighs, sitting down on the floor close to me, and resting his back on his very nice couch.

Have I mentioned what a pain in the ass it was to move that couch?

"It's all good." I swipe at the side of my face with the back of my hand. I feel so gross and sweaty, and my arms and legs hurt like high hell but at least I won't have to worry about moving any more things until the moving company brings me my things tomorrow, the thought alone making my body cry out in pain.

We sit in silence, letting ourselves rest for a while as he stretches his arms behind his head. I am more than willing to admit: Boy is good looking. I had figured that out by the call, but again, it is way different meeting a person in real life and seeing them be themselves. Jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin (which make me wonder how long he has to roast under the sun to get a nasty burn because with me it's not long at all).

"How are we going to tackle this?" He asks, motioning to the surrounding boxes.

"Oh God," I let my head fall back against a package behind me. "I don't even know where to start, it's giving me nightmares already."

He sits straight up, resting an arm over his knee and pointing at me, an idea clearly sparking on his features.

"I say we procrastinate and go get some food because I am starving, I don't know about yourself."

"Alright, I can work with that, I'm feeling kind of hungry, too." I think of whether I can afford to even go out, but then again we don't have any food in our fridge and if we wanted to go grocery shopping right away, we'd be pushing our mealtime a couple of hours more. "I like where your mind is, William."

"Yeah, and look at it this way, it's a good way to know each other." He gets up, dusting off his hands over his jeans. "So what do you say? McDonald's? I think I saw one a block or two away from here, but I'm sure there are more things closer to the school."

I wonder for a moment whether this was the right idea. Should I have gotten a dorm, or maybe specifically asked for a girl roommate? Would any of that have made any difference on how this was going so far and would that make this better or worse? I'd still have to socialize with someone new whom I had quite possibly never met before. At the very least William is from Asheville and we have that going for each other.

"Don't isolate yourself." That's what mom would have probably said, but mom is the best example of what isolation can do to a person. Perhaps she meant it as a warning rather than advice.

I get up, patting the back of my shorts for my keys and my phone.

"We can do that, come unpack a bit, and then go grocery shopping. If that sounds good to you?" I fiddle with my hair so it doesn't look like fine bird real estate and decide to rush to the bathroom to assure it doesn't.

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