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experience.
                  Then everything with Sean happened. I locked myself in my room for months, barely eating or drinking anything. By the time I resurfaced, I don't think my mother really cared about whether I would get the most authentic college experience—I think she was just happy that I was among the living again. She didn't even bat an eyelash when I told them I wanted to live off-campus.
                  “Can I stand up yet?” I'm beginning to get dizzy from all the blood rushing to my head.  It feels like I have been bent over at the waist for at least ten minutes while she aggressively brushes the tangles out of my thick brown hair.
                  “Almost,” she says, brushing a few more vicious strokes. “There!”
                  I stand up, flipping my long, chocolate-brown hair back and fix a pointed look at her.
                  “Perfection!” she chimes cheerfully. She runs the brush through my hair a few more times touching it up in a few places so obviously it's not quite ‘perfection’ yet. I sigh loudly, cursing myself for ever agreeing to this make-over.
                  “Ready?” Olivia asks as she touches up her lip gloss.
                  “I guess. I feel weird though.” I pull at the hem of the way-too-short dress she practically forced me to wear.
              “Don't over think it.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Just look at yourself,” she says as she turns me around to face my reflection in her floor length mirror hanging on the back of her door.  She has worked wonders on my hair somehow managing to make it fall in perfectly smooth dark waves. “Admit it. Go on.”
              “Fine,” I concede. She has given my eyes a smoky look and with the clothes and the way she styled my hair, I don't even recognize myself. “Can I at least wear a jacket? I'm going to freeze to death.”
              “There's no way in hell I'm letting you hide that smokin' body behind an oversized jacket. Now let's go!” She grabs my hand and pulls me out the door.
              I seriously can't believe I actually agreed to this. But after my mom threatened to come visit unless I had something besides work and classes to tell her about, I figured I didn't have much choice in the matter.
              Kensington College is so small that there aren't any traditional fraternities or sororities but there are a couple of old houses that are considered the “party houses” so it's practically the same thing.
              Olivia told me that the house was just down the street from the dorms so we could just walk there. This suited me just fine since I'm still pretty uncomfortable getting into a car—I can manage to ride in the passenger seat if I have to but I flat out refuse to drive anymore.
              I can hear the music as soon as we step outside of Barnaby Hall so I guess she's right. The crisp autumn air is brisk and the wind has picked up since I arrived at the dorm.  Chills run down my arms and legs leaving goosebumps in their path and I silently curse her for refusing to let me wear a jacket. 
              “Do you think my bike will be okay?” I had secured it to the rack outside the red-brick dorms before heading up to her room. It was the only one in sight.
              She laughs. “Aria, no one in their right mind is going to steal that piece of shit.”
              The leaves are finally changing colors and though it's dark outside, I can see their vibrancy even in the shadows.
              Once inside the old Victorian-style house, Olivia is fluttering all over the place like a true social butterfly, and she's dragging me along with her. At some point she shoves a red cup in my  hand, which I try to refuse. She just rolls