MAYA'S POV
I've been told I'm pretty for as long as I can remember.
Not in a dramatic, movie-star way - more like the kind of pretty people notice even when I'm trying to fade into the background.
It's never been something I chased. If anything, it made things complicated.
Still, stepping onto Ridgeview University's campus for the first time, I felt small.
New place. New faces. New expectations.
And for once, I wasn't sure if being "the girl everyone notices" would help me or overwhelm me.
Lily, my roommate of exactly twenty minutes, waved at me from the hostel door.
"You finally found the block!" she said, pulling me into a quick hug.
"I walked past it twice," I admitted.
"It's fine. Half the girls here walked past it too."
We made our way to the room, and people kept glancing at me the way they always do - not in a creepy way, just curious.
It's the same look I've seen all my life:
Who's she? Does she know she looks like that?
But I don't react anymore. I've had years to learn how to keep my expression calm.
While Lily and I unpacked, someone knocked on our door. I looked up and met a broad smile and too much confidence.
"Hey," the guy said. "You're new, right? I'm Kade, the block rep."
Lily nudged me too quickly.
"Yeah, we just got here," I said.
Kade's eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary - they always do with boys like him.
"Well, if either of you need anything, I'm on the third floor," he said, clearly directing the offer at me.
When he walked away, Lily turned immediately.
"He was definitely flirting."
"He flirts with oxygen," I said.
Later, at orientation, I sat next to a quiet boy with glasses and a neat notebook. He looked like the type who ironed his timetable.
"Is this seat free?" I asked.
He nodded. "You can sit."
He introduced himself as .
Rav Soft voice. Calm energy. Kind eyes.
The kind of guy who'd be reliable but predictable.
When I dropped my leaflet, he picked it up instantly, almost like he was waiting for me to need something.
"You're very... noticed," he said suddenly, then looked embarrassed.
"I get that a lot," I replied, used to it by now.
Lily kept whispering, "That's two guys already," which made me want to hide inside my own bag.
But the truth is, none of it meant anything.
Not the looks.
Not the attention.
Not the compliments or the stares or the way people seem to always expect something from me.
Because being wanted isn't the same as being understood.
And on my first day of college, surrounded by hundreds of strangers, I realized how empty "being wanted" can feel.