College Rules - Lucky Fucking Freshman [TOP]

Cole found me by the keg. “You look nervous.”

“I look sober,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

And then he texted: “Had fun. Let’s keep this low-key though? You know how it is.” College Rules - Lucky Fucking Freshman

He walked me back to my dorm at 2 AM. Didn’t try to come up. Just kissed my forehead like I was something precious and said, “See you around, lucky freshman.”

Afterward, we lay there in the dark. His arm under my head. The ceiling fan clicking on every rotation. Cole found me by the keg

By week three, I’d stopped telling my roommate where I was going. She’d just see me grab my keys and say, “Cole?” And I’d blush.

I did know how it was. I was the lucky fucking freshman. The one who got to learn, up close, that “low-key” means “don’t expect a text back,” and “see you around” means “I’ll call you when my other plans fall through.” Do I regret it? No. Let’s keep this low-key though

Because the real rule of college isn’t about avoiding trouble.

I learned more about my own worth in that one messy month with Cole than in four years of high school assemblies. I learned that I am not a prize to be won. I learned that the “college rules” aren’t about curfews or party safety—they’re about deciding what you want before someone else decides for you.

And here’s the part I don’t tell my mom: It was good . Not magical. Not the movies. But good in the way that makes you forget why you were scared in the first place. He was careful. Attentive. Kept asking, “You okay?” until I finally laughed and said, “Cole, I’m fine. Just shut up.”