Roseline - 
The chilly fall wind whipped at my nose as I stepped foot onto the campus of Brown University. I look around me at brick buildings and trees in shades of red and yellow. I follow my map to my new home, a dorm on the North side of campus; double-checking I had everything for the following day. My classes didn’t start until tomorrow, but I just wanted to make sure I had what I needed. This will be way harder than last year, but I’m excited to start my day with all writing classes. I have always been creative, writing stories, and painting pictures with the words that I put on a page; allowing the reader to get a sneak peek into my brain. Not that I have ever let anyone read anything I’ve written, but it's the thought that counts right?

I walked into my first class the next morning. Taking the seat closest to the door on the wide crescent moon-shaped table. 10 minutes later a guy with dark brown hair walked through the door. 

“How nice of you to join us, Mr.…?” Mr. Simmons says once the guy finds a seat.

“Lawson,” He says with arrogance in his voice, “Mr. Xavier Lawson”

Of all people, HE had to be in my creative writing class.

“Well Mr. Lawson, I expect you to be on time if you want to learn anything from me.” 

I try to keep my head down for the rest of class. The one time I lifted my eyes to look around the room, they locked with him. Out of everyone, it had to be him. We have been competing valedictorian during our high school careers. He graduated top of the 500 kids we were against; I finished right behind him. Before I drop my gaze again, I can’t help but notice the dark curls that fall over his eyes as he flips open his computer screen.

“Okay class,” Mr. Simmons starts again, “I know that it is the first day but you have been invited to compete in Browns' writing contest. You will be in pairs and will have a week to complete a short story of your choosing. Now you will not have class time to complete this.”

 My heart sunk into my stomach, “Winners will get 10 grand each and mentioned in the New York Times 2006 Best Incoming Authors. It will put your name out there as an established author, not to mention it is a huge honor.” Mr. Simmons continued, “I will post your partners on my page, if your partner doesn’t want to compete then I will switch people around, but I couldn’t imagine any of you backing out of this chance.” Oh goodie I thought.

*----------------------*

Xavier Lawson. It could have been anyone and I got paired with Xavier. You have to be kidding me, right? As if he could read my mind, an E-mail popped up on my laptop, ‘Creative Writing Short Story’ - Xavier Lawson @LawsonX.BrownU.org I clicked on it and a Word Doc was already made outlining the whole story. There is no way I am letting him do the whole thing. This is my story too. I quickly took half of what he had written and deleted it all. I started writing little bits of paragraphs I came up with throughout the day. After all of my classes, I took one final look at the document. EVERYTHING was gone. This can not be how it’s going to be for the rest of the week.

I found him in the hallway, “Listen, we have to do this whether you like it or not. I would love it if I could do it myself, but that's not how this thing works. Now, you either let me have a say or you march up to Mr. Simmons yourself and tell him we aren’t doing the competition.” By the end I was breathless. He only said one thing in response, “Okay,” and walked out of the room. Slowly we started meeting up in person instead of fighting over the computer. We got the final outline done by Wednesday and the entire beginning was done in the very early hours of Friday morning.

After all of my classes Friday I hear a knock on the door, opening it to find Xavier. “Alright, Rosy, let's get this thing done.” Smiling, I let him through.

*----------------------*

Staring at the screen for more than necessary, I hear Xavier let out the longest sigh I’ve ever heard. “We did it,” He said, “Not in time.  We might be able to send it in still.” 

“I don’t know, I mean we are approximately,” I look at the time on the screen - 3:43 AM-  “3 hours and 43 minutes past the deadline.” 

“We just wrote a whole story, and I don’t know about you but I’m proud of us. Of you. We should at least try,”  The look on his face sent butterflies in my stomach. The way his eyes set my heart on fire, burning away any doubt I had about this story; our story. I have no idea how we did it. 

He grabs my computer and sets it in his lap, flipping to the page we were supposed to turn in our short story 4 hours ago. In no time, he was looking at me again, I gave him a swift nod, silently telling him to do it. He hit the submit button and we both watched as the screen loaded. And just like that;  It was over. A week of hard work and fighting somehow ended in a flurry of emotions and one completed story. We won’t even know if our hard work paid off. Not even the top 50 gets announced until December.

 “ Hey, Rosy, even if we don’t get any prize, any money, I couldn’t imagine finishing this thing with anyone else.” Suddenly his hand brushed my cheek and I felt his lips on mine. Soft. Delicate. Perfect…