Sean's College Life

It all began with her.

Yeah, I was just as surprised. At that point in my life, I'd thought girls would never make the first move. Yet, she did, and I was all the more grateful for it.

It was my first day of college, mid-afternoon in a huge lecture hall where students were streaming in. I came a few minutes early -- I wanted to make sure I got a nice seat and maybe talk to people around me.

Nobody came, of course. In college, there's an unspoken rule. As people stream into the classroom, you can pick any seat as long as it's not right next to anyone you don't know.

For the first few minutes of class, I kept looking around nervously, waiting for people to come in, hoping someone would come sit next to me and talk for a few minutes. I checked the time on my phone a few times, until I saw it signal the start of class. The professor motioned for everyone to quiet down, and I looked around behind me, seeing everyone seated exactly one seat away from each other.

It was a few minutes into lecture, when I was about to lose interest and start doodling in my notebook, when she showed up.

"Can I sit here?" She whispered.

I glanced over at her and gawked. She was wearing skin-tight jeans that showcased long legs. Thin, but muscular at the same time. She could totally be a soccer player or a cross-country runner by the looks of it. Light-brown locks of hair fell around her shoulders, and a few strands were pulled back into a small braid. She wore glasses on her very cute face, which appeared to be something between European and Asian. The best part? Her very loose-fitting blouse did nothing to hide her huge chest, handfuls of cleavage which could have easily been model material.

Could she sit here?

Of-fucking-course.

"Yeah, go ahead," I said, trying to keep my cool.

"Thanks," she whispered back.

Professor Hatchett kept speaking but my mind was distracted the whole time. Who was this beautiful woman sitting next to me? I focused on my notebook, trying to keep my eyes from straying off to the side.

The professor's question caught my attention before I realized it wasn't a cold call. "Who here can tell me who these figures are? Just give me one of them." He pointed at the screen which displayed four images: one was of an animal-looking sculpture, one was of a huge stone slab covered by inscribed text, another was a photograph of an army of humanoid warrior statues, and the last one was a large pyramid building, though it didn't look like the ones in Egypt.

His eyes wandered the crowd of bored students until they landed on mine and nodded. I panicked and looked around and my heart leaped when I saw that he was actually looking at the girl next to me, who had her hand raised.

I glanced at her, eager for a chance to look at her again. She was quite likely one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen. This time, I noticed the small strands of hair coming over her forehead. It was almost perfect -- my hands ached to tuck them behind her ear and see more of her soft, unblemished cheeks. My eyes traveled as far as they dared wander, drinking her in.

"The one on the top-right is the Rosetta Stone," she said. Her voice was as beautiful as herself, somehow gentle but confident at the same time.

"Very good! What about..." he continued as my mind wandered off.

I kept that image in my mind, trying to commit it to memory. Her slim form, leaned back in a relaxed manner, her beauty juxtaposed against the shabby lecture hall seats.

"Alright, so that's what we're going to be covering this class, from earliest forms of civilization in 6000 BC, to the development of more modern societies and advanced cultures," Hatchett explained, finishing up his last slide. It was still a half hour before the class ended. "So, I was talking to my son who's in university, and he was always talking about how it was hard to meet new people. Everyone kind of just rushes into class, listens to the professor talk for an hour or so, and rushes out to their next class.

I know everyone here is just taking this class as a GE, and it's very likely that you'll forget all of it the day after the final. Something that is going to last however, are all the future friends you're sitting with right now. Why don't you all introduce yourselves to the people around you for the last few minutes of class."

My heart thumped in my chest. I was like a deer in headlights.

"Hey, my name's Keira," she said, holding out her hand.

I took it, and noticed the pale, smooth skin of her forearm. Oh, I was hopeless.

Somehow, I managed to make some conversation without tripping over too many words. It turned out we were both neuroscience majors and were taking some of the same intro classes for biology together too.

I told her about all the clubs I wanted to join this quarter and asked her about what she wanted to do this semester. It turned out, she was interested in a lot of different kinds of things, from auditioning for acapella groups to joining research labs.

Her laugh. How had I not mentioned that yet? It was perfect. She would flash me a smile for all my jokes and make my heart shiver. And her boobs would jiggle. It was all I could do to not glance down at them every time she laughed. They were so beautiful, and planted dirty thoughts in my head that I fought to ignore. I was probably the envy of every warm-blooded straight male in the room.

"Alright, thanks folks, I'll have office hours on Thursday this week if you want to come hang out," Hatchett said. People were up and about before he finished speaking.

"It was nice talking to you, Sean," Keira said. "I'll see you next class?"

"Yes, of course!" She wanted to see me again. I was just about the luckiest man alive.

She was gathering her things now. A thought occurred to me.

"Wait, just one second." I pulled out a small sticky note and scrawled my name and number on it. "I hope you can read my handwriting."

She took it and flashed me another smile. "See you later, Sean."

Keira.

She left hurriedly to her next class -- a math lecture on the other side of campus. I was heading back to my dorm but soon realized that I'd forgotten how to walk. It was only when I banished the thought of her from my mind that I could stop tripping over myself.

Oh, what a wonderful beginning.

------

The next couple days were packed with Welcome Week events, classes, and meetups with people I could barely remember the names of. Yet, one thing stayed on my mind the entire time.

It'd been almost 48 hours since I met her. I'd checked my phone repeatedly throughout the day, my heart skipping a beat whenever I saw a notification. She hadn't texted me since I gave her my number.

This, I told myself, was not healthy. I was becoming obsessive over something that shouldn't be taking up so much of my headspace. I called my friend Roshni that night, seeking wisdom of the ages to alleviate my troubles. She was just a year older than me, but she always seemed to have some unique perspective on things.

"Sean! What's up?" Her cheerful voice made me smile. I missed her a lot -- ever since she went to college I had barely seen her around. She was just a friend of course. We had that conversation a while ago.

"She still hasn't texted me yet," I complained.

She giggled. "Give her some time, Sean. It's the first week of school -- everyone's busy, and she's probably got a million friends and family members trying to talk to her."

"But just to send a text? That takes like, five minutes out of your day. Or not even."

"Relax. There are so many things that could've happened. What if she lost the paper? Or mis-wrote your phone number? Or maybe she forgot about it."

"Maybe she forgot about it," I repeated, stressed. "Ugh, what if I was misreading the signs? Or she just never talks to me again?"

"College is such a big place," she said. "There's going to be other people out there for you, don't even worry about it. I know you probably think this is a huge deal--"

"This is a huge deal," I protested.

"--and knowing you, she's probably hella hot--"

"She is hella hot," I said, emphasizing every syllable.

"But there's just nothing you can do about it right now. And if you stress about it you're just going to become more obsessive and you know that no one likes obsessive guys."

"Ugh, you're right."

"Relax. Try to talk to other girls and take your mind off of this. It's not good for you at all."

"Alright, alright."

"Didn't you say you were going to have some intro psych class or something with her today?"

"Yeah. Psych 2," I said. "I showed up today but I couldn't find her at all."

"Eh, it was a huge lecture hall, right?"

"Yeah, but she could've maybe texted me. She knows we're in the same class. I looked around and all too, I didn't see her."

I couldn't see her now, but I could just envision her frown of intense thought. "Maybe she was just sitting in the back. Or she was wearing so much makeup that she was completely unrecognizable," she joked.

"Nah, she wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?"

Keira was so beautiful, and it didn't look like she was wearing heavy makeup the day we met. Girls like her-- well, there were no girls like her. She just wasn't someone who needed makeup to look beautiful. "I would've seen her if she were there. You gotta trust me on this."

"Alright, whatever you say, stud. It's psychology though... I bet that class is filled with hot girls."

"Uhh.. yeah, a bit," I admitted. I was pleasantly surprised when I showed up yesterday. There were all kinds of pretty girls in my major. None of them could hold a candle to Keira though. I just couldn't get her out of my mind.

"Well, there you go! Plenty of fish in the sea. Little Sean's all grown up now. Maybe we should call you Big Sean," she said.

"Whatever you say, Ros," I said with a sigh.

"Hey, what's her name again? Ka...tie?"

"Keira," I corrected.

"Right, right. Keep me posted, Sean. I better get my money's worth on these front-row seats."

"Ha-ha," I said dryly.

"Keep your head up, king. College can't all be about girls."

"I know," I said half-heartedly. She was right. I needed to focus on academics too. That meant science organizations, research labs, professional networking, and a whole host of things to do. Med school would be a long journey with no end in sight.

My phone dinged. Text from an unknown number.

"Oh! She just texted. I'll call you back," I said quickly before hanging up.

(Hey, it's Keira!)

(Sorry I didn't text earlier, I just got caught up with all my classes and first-week things!)

(Let me know if you wanna meet up tomorrow afternoon!)

Tomorrow afternoon? I thought we had class then.

(Don't we have history tomorrow?), I texted back.

(Nope, prof sent out a message yesterday, class canceled.)

I stared at my phone, my brain already abuzz with the possibilities, fantasizing about all the things we might be able to do. Just the thought of seeing her again was enough for me.

I pulled out my notebook and looked at the half-finished drawing of her. I tried my best, but I wasn't any kind of art student. It'd been years since I drew seriously, and the lack of practice showed. It wasn't nearly as good as I'd envisioned it, but she was certainly recognizable.

Roshni was right. I should do my best to take my mind off of her. She was just a normal person, like all my other friends.

I glanced at it, and back at my phone, and sat down, getting to work. What could I do? My hand itched to draw. It was too perfect, too irresistible, like a recovered addict happening upon a new stash of the pure stuff after so many years sober.

My hand idly traced lines over the page as I thought of what we could do tomorrow. Eventually, I settled on a response.

(Why don't we get coffee tomorrow?), I texted. I immediately regretted it -- what if I was being too forward? Should I have saved the romantic implication for an in-person moment?

(Sure! Meet me in front of the library :) we can walk to the Philz across the street)

She proposed the time and the place? I sighed. It suddenly struck me that if this didn't work out, I would probably be spending the next few years running in circles, trying to find someone as perfect as her.

(Okay! Cya then :) )

I looked down at my drawing. Not great, but the beauty of the subject matter eclipsed the shortcomings in skill. I could imagine that moment clearer now -- her soft eyes that seemed to effortlessly peer straight into my soul, her elegant hair that seemed as soft as cotton.

My hands instinctively reached for the colored pencils, searching for a mix of the right colors. I picked out a shade of dark blue and light green, and got to work.