What am I doing here? I should have stayed at the dorm! It wouldn’t have made a difference if I had been watching a new season of “House of Cards” now or sitting here on the swing, listening to music, while the others are having fun in the house. But then again there is a pleasant air and a light wind, instead of pesky dust and crazy rhythm of the city.

When my feet pushed off the ground to swing, I looked in the window of Chris’ two-storied white mansion: a slender, tall guy with short brown hair, who threw a party at his place, was smiling widely and talking joyfully to other guys. It’s been a year since I’ve known Chris and he hasn’t frowned once. However, when you know how to communicate with people, play football, have straight A’s, and plan to run a family business in the future, is there any reason to be upset about even for a second? Okay, I need to stop envying Chris, because generally my life is not that bad: I have a good family and my beloved Beth, whom I’ve been dating for three years; starting next semester I will finally study architecture instead of economics – do I have one good reason to be discontented about anything? If only these constant worries and thoughts about moving where nobody knows me stopped, I would be completely happy.

I guess I envy Chris because of his never-ending boasting. I think he threw a party here so that we would all turn green with envy of his enormous, spacious mansion. I wonder how much did his family spend on building this house and setting up the garden with trees and plants? The guys suggested to go bowling or hang out in “Burger King”, but Chris insisted that the end of the academic year has to be special. All right, I just hope he’s happy with his decision. I looked in the next window and spotted Emma, a nice and very kind short girl in a bright summer dress. She was sitting in a white leather armchair, completely plunged into reading “Before you”, having forgotten about the loud music and noisy people. Should I offer her to walk around the garden? We didn’t talk much, when we got here.

I got up from the swing and decided to come up to my group mate, but Miguel was heading my way, a cheerful Mexican with smooth dark haircut and directed at me his favorite camera. Oh no, not this!

Next Chapter: 2. Miguel