Ashes & Roses

Chapter 4

Wynter Rose Monroe

By the time I stepped into the hallway, I was already running late. I glanced down at my phone and felt my stomach tighten. Psychology. I adjusted the strap of my duffle and started walking faster, my legs still heavy from class. Professor Bennett had requested that I stay behind after everyone else left, and what I thought would be a quick conversation had stretched much longer than I'd expected. I hadn't even had time to change. My ballet attire was still underneath my warm-ups, my hair was beginning to loosen from its bun, and my feet were sore from pointe work. I probably looked exactly like what I was..a dancer who had spent the morning in a studio and had barely made it back into the real world.

The campus was much busier now than it had been when I'd arrived that morning. Students hurried between buildings, some carrying coffee while others walked with their eyes glued to their phones. Conversations overlapped around me, mixed with the occasional laugh or the distant sound of a bicycle bell. I kept moving, I had enough time to make it if I didn't stop. Which was exactly why I wasn't expecting someone to step directly into my path. My shoulder collided with hers.

"Oh I'm so sorry!!"

The girl stumbled slightly before catching herself. Her eyes dropped briefly to my ballet clothes before returning to my face.

"Hey, watch it, Twinkle Toes."

I blinked, caught off guard.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, already stepping aside.

She gave me a brief look before continuing down the walkway. I didn't have time to think much about it, I hurried the rest of the way to my next class, slipping through the doors just as the professor was beginning his lecture. The room was already mostly full. I quietly apologized as I entered, earning a few curious glances before finding an empty seat toward the middle. My face was warm as I set my bag beneath the desk and pulled out my notebook. The professor glanced at me but didn't stop the lecture. I was grateful for that. I opened to a fresh page and immediately began writing.

Psychology required a different kind of focus than ballet. There was no music to follow or movement to memorize. Instead, I had to listen carefully, separating the important information from everything else while trying to keep up with my notes. I underlined key terms and added small explanations beside them whenever something needed clarification. Every now and then, my mind wandered back to the studio.

You're good.

But you're a long way from great.

I pushed the thought aside, I needed to focus.

The professor continued explaining the day's material, occasionally pausing to ask the class a question. I listened carefully, writing down the answers whenever they were discussed. By the time I looked at the clock again, almost the entire class had passed. My body was exhausted, but my mind had finally settled.

Then my phone vibrated quietly against my thigh. I glanced down.

'Genevieve: Where are you?'

I smiled faintly at her text and typed beneath the desk.

Me: Psychology.

The response came almost immediately.

Genevieve: I'm coming to get you when you're done.

I shook my head.

Me: Why?

Her answer appeared before I could put my phone away.

Genevieve: Because you need to eat.

I looked down at the message. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until she said it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, and slipped my phone back into my bag and tried to focus on the lecture. A few minutes later, the professor dismissed us. The room immediately filled with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and students gathering their belongings. I slowly stood, feeling the ache in my calves return. When I stepped into the hallway, Genevieve was already waiting. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"You look exhausted."

I adjusted my bag.

"I had ballet, and Professor Bennett kept me after." I explained

Genevieve's expression changed slightly.

"She did?"

I nodded faintly not wanting to get into much detail, the lack of food definitely was taking a toll on my body.

"I'll tell you about it later."

She studied my face for a moment but didn't push. Instead, she reached for my duffle.

"Come on...I can carry it." She said, I took a slight step back quietly insisting that I could carry it but she took it anyway. I smiled and followed beside her.

We made our way across campus, the morning rush beginning to settle into the slower rhythm of midday. Students were scattered across the grass, sitting beneath trees or gathered around tables outside the student center. The smell of food grew stronger as we approached the dining area. My stomach betrayed me with a quiet growl. Genevieve looked over at me, I pretended not to notice, and she smiled. We pushed through the doors, and the warmth of the building immediately surrounded us.For the first time that morning, I allowed myself to relax. My first ballet class was over. Psychology was done. My feet hurt, my legs were sore, and I still had the rest of the day ahead of me, but I had made it through. As Genevieve walked beside me, already talking about what she wanted to eat, I realized something. Maybe this was what college was supposed to feel like. A little overwhelming, a little exhausting, and completely new.

Students filled nearly every table, some eating with friends while others sat alone with laptops open in front of them. The room seemed to have its own rhythm, everyone moving between the food stations, searching for empty seats, or calling out to people they knew. Genevieve grabbed a tray and handed one to me, telling me simply,

"Food first. Everything else later."

I smiled and followed her toward the line. We filled our trays and eventually found a table near the windows. I barely had time to sit before I started eating. Genevieve watched me for a moment before shaking her head, amused.

"You were definitely hungry."

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable rhythm, the kind that made the morning finally feel like it was catching up to me. For the first time since arriving on campus, my shoulders loosened. By the time we finished, the ache in my legs had settled into something dull and manageable. I gathered my things and followed Genevieve back outside, grateful for the cooler air against my skin. We wandered across the quad without much of a destination. The afternoon had settled over campus, and everything felt less frantic than it had that morning. Students lounged beneath the trees, groups gathered on the grass, and music drifted faintly from somewhere near the student center.

We were almost past the bulletin board when Genevieve suddenly stopped. I took another step before realizing she wasn't beside me anymore. Turning back, I frowned.

"What?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pointed toward the board. It was covered in flyers. Club meetings, campus organizations, volunteer events, and study groups filled the upper half, but the lower section was almost entirely dedicated to something much more interesting.

Parties.

There were flyers advertising fraternity and sorority events happening that night, each one more colorful than the last. Different themes, different locations, different start times. Genevieve stepped closer, scanning them with growing interest.

"Well..."

I moved beside her, reading over her shoulder.

"There are a lot."

"A lot?" she repeated with a laugh, clearly entertained. "Wynter, there are enough parties here to keep us busy until graduation."

She began pointing as she read, voice picking up with excitement. "This one starts at eight. This one at nine. This one says they're having a welcome party, and this one has a beach theme." Then she looked at me, grin already forming.

"We're going."

I lifted a brow. "To one?"

She looked back at the board like the answer was obvious. "Why stop at one?"

A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. "You want to go to all of them?"

"Not all of them," she corrected quickly, though her expression said she was already committed to the idea. "We could party hop."

The idea sounded slightly ridiculous. Which was probably why I liked it.

“We could start somewhere, stay for a while, and leave whenever we wanted. We wouldn't have to spend the entire night in one place, and if one party wasn't our scene, there would always be another one”

"Okay," I finally agreed.

Genevieve's smile widened instantly. "Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated, more certain this time. "We can party hop."

Without hesitation, she hooked her arm through mine. "Perfect. We're going tonight."

"Tonight?" I echoed, half-laughing as she started pulling me away from the board.

"Yes, tonight," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what the flyers say."

I let her lead me back toward the dorm and by the time we reached our room, Genevieve had already shifted into planning mode, talking about outfits before her bag even hit the floor. Then, suddenly, she stopped. Her expression changed, becoming more serious as she turned toward me.

"But before outfits, we need rules."

I blinked at her. "Rules?"

"Yes," she said firmly, as if this was the most important part of the night.

She held up one finger. "Neither of us takes drinks from random people. If we didn't see it being made or open it ourselves, we don't drink it."

I nodded immediately.

A second finger followed. "We don't leave each other alone. If one of us goes somewhere, the other knows where."

Another finger. "If either of us feels uncomfortable, we leave. No arguing. No convincing each other to stay."

Her tone had shifted completely now, all seriousness beneath the excitement.

"We communicate," she added. "If you're tired, uncomfortable, overwhelmed, or just want to go home, you tell me. I don't care if we've been there for ten minutes or three hours."

I smiled softly. "Okay."

"And we keep our phones charged," she continued. "We check in with each other if we get separated. Nobody disappears without telling the other where they're going."

Then, after a brief pause, she added more quietly, "And if someone bothers you, you tell me."

"I will," I said without hesitation.

"I mean it, Wynter," she said, meeting my eyes.

"I know," I assured her.

Her expression softened slightly. "I just want us to have fun without doing anything stupid."

I nodded. "I agree."

"Good."

She held out her hand. I looked at it for a second before laughing softly and placing mine in hers.

"Deal," I said.

She squeezed my hand once, then let go like it was settled.

"Now," she announced, already turning toward our closets, "we have the much more important problem."

I didn't even need to ask.

"What am I wearing?" I said, amused.

"Exactly," she replied immediately.

Genevieve threw open her closet and began pulling clothes from hangers with the intensity of someone preparing for battle rather than a night out. I sat on the edge of my bed, watching her create a growing pile of options, unable to stop smiling. I had no idea what tonight would bring. I'd never been to a college party before. I'd never gone anywhere without knowing exactly what was expected of me. But maybe that was the point, for once there was no choreography. No counts. No professor correcting my posture. No audition waiting at the end of the day. Just a night ahead of us, a few party flyers still fresh in Genevieve's mind, and the possibility of something completely new. And somehow, I was ready to find out what college felt like when I wasn't standing inside a dance studio.