2I sipped my indulgent caffeine shake while I watched University of Massachusetts students filter in and out of the campus dining area, rushing for their morning classes and grabbing the quickest meal at the same time. I mentally patted myself on the back for choosing late-morning classes, not regretting whatsoever that I prioritized opportunities to sleep in rather than starting the days bright and early.
I sat at a smaller table enjoying a breakfast-for-one by placing my backpack in the seat across me, silently letting others know my table was not an open invitation for others to join. I struggled to be friendly most of the time and while I usually tried, there was not enough caffeine in the world to make it worth doing so in the morning. I needed food and the initial mental-drain of classes before I attempted any kind of socialization.
I didn't mind the isolation so much as it gave me the chance to people-watch. It was interesting how students behaved in college versus high school. I assumed cliques would run rampant and much larger and encompass every nook and cranny of the social scene, but I was wrong. Everyone had their own lives to live, their own priorities and problems to focus on. No one gave two shits to things and people outside of their circle.
Most of the time, I watched students crisscross each other in a strange dance so as not to run over each other as they powerwalked to class. Occasionally, I'd watch groups of people huddle at a table, but instead of grating laughter, it was the hush of morning study – asking each other questions over index cards and textbooks.
Sitting at a table by myself stopped being this out-of-place occurrence and for once, I was normal.
So today's game was watching for out-of-place people. My eyes drifted from the grab-and-go breakfast station and searched the seating areas. I'd recognized many students – and to my surprise, they recognized me, too. Small hand waves and head nods were our only forms of communication. I knew none of their names, their class schedules, or their friends, but we were all grinding away. So after greeting them, I kept scanning for anyone or anything unfamiliar.
Aha! There – at a table closest to a wall, a small group of men were gabbing excitedly. They were too far away for me to listen, but they were engrossed in their conversation. I couldn't imagine it had anything to do with classes, but what stood out to me the most was the guy not moving his mouth. Smack dab in the middle, he was surrounded by the cacophony of his friends, but he kept staring straight ahead, not even bothering to pretend he listened to a word they said.
His friends playfully shoved his shoulder, constant glances at his face as if they knew he wouldn't return the eye contact, and mindless gestures when it seemed like he came up in conversation. I couldn't help but wonder if he realized that he was wanted company. To me – the girl who tried and failed many times to draw in potential friends – found that to be fascinating. And a little bit sad.
As if he knew what I was thinking, his eyes wandered to me. Caught staring red-handed, my eyes widened in response, and I stupidly sucked at my caffeine shake. I didn't know what exactly I'd been hoping for – maybe give myself a brain freeze – but it was like I had no control over my body or its reactions.
My phone alarm vibrated loudly on the table reminding me I had fifteen minutes to walk to class. It was so sudden that I choked on the drink, and the guy watching me pressed his lips together, and I knew it was to stop himself from laughing at my expense.
Game over, I thought to myself. I shuffled out of my seat, hauled my backpack over my shoulders, and pretended to walk out of the cafeteria with dignity.
My people-watching game continued despite getting caught last time. I hadn't realized it was my version of socializing until more and more people started saying "Hello" to me in addition to the waves and head nods. And thankfully, it was less intimidating than starting conversations that I was in no way prepared for.
Best of all, today was probably the best day, because when I ordered my daily caffeine shake, I didn't have to pay a cent.
"It's been paid for," the worker informed me. "Enjoy."
I looked around the cafeteria, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who bought my drink. But no one claimed the kind gesture, no one sent me a salute or an obvious sign to let me know, so I gratefully accepted the gift.
By the time I finished breakfast, I noticed the strange, not unpleasant looks as students passed my table. "Are you… okay?" someone asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," I replied cheerfully. And that's when I realized I was smiling. And for those who noticed me in the cafeteria all these weeks, it was me who was the strange one. "I'm okay."
It was a long day of classes, but here at the Southwest dorms, it was a typical Friday night. Loud music, a never-ending supply of alcohol, everyone just trying to let loose from another stressful week of lectures, research papers, and an ungodly amount of studying over concepts high school never really prepared us for.
My good mood that started in the morning, unfortunately, hadn't extended into the later evening hours. I tried my best to ignore students racing up and down the hall outside my room; ignored even harder the hookups that were just an inch away from kicking me out of my dorm. In all honesty, it wasn't in me to duke it out over my space. It would just mean I'd have to switch bed sheets earlier than I'd planned.
Convincing myself that I was steeling my nerves instead of meekly giving up my room for the night, I grabbed my purse from the dresser and walked toward the chaos.
The marijuana smoke was stronger out in the hall, including the smell of spilled beer and inevitable sweat in such a packed place. I kept walking until I reached the common area of the fourth floor where I lived. It was livelier here where the beer keg was easily accessible, and the subwoofers tightly surrounded the area so that the thump of the bass was impossible to escape. I was tempted to take a drag of the shared joint passed around and chug whatever concoction was flowing from the tap; to be swept away in a hypnotic trance, but despite living here for the past four months, I still haven't managed to make any friends to allow such a possibility to pass. Even when I wanted to be irresponsible, there was still a level of practicality I couldn't ignore.
I couldn't help but be disappointed in myself. I thought I could kick my antisocial tendencies by deliberately choosing the most "party" dorm on the entire campus, only to dig my feet in even further. Not able to take another moment of doing absolutely nothing, I ran to the nearest flight of stairs. Somehow the partygoers conveniently ignored this area each time, preferring the overheated bodies in a crowded space to the cool, albeit stale, air of the concrete staircase.
But this time, it didn't appear I was the only one with the same idea. I froze at the top of the stairs as I stared down at the man sprawled against the middle steps, leaning against the wall behind him to support his head and back. Cafeteria guy, I recalled.
Goodness, he must have been tall. It seemed like his legs stretched on forever on the narrow steps. Despite wearing an oversized sweater, it couldn't hide that his broad shoulders took more space on the wall than I had thought was possible and I couldn't help but wonder if he swam daily to build such a physique.
He'd been too far away the day in the cafeteria, so even now, I couldn't tell the color of his eyes, but in the dim moonlight trickling from the transom window, I could see he had a broad nose and square jaw. Dark straight hair framed his face, styled in a way that would make most women jealous, and a severe not-smile-not-frown on his lips.
I stared at him long enough that I expected him to send me a sharp sneer, find an angry set of brows, an accusatory "What?" that I was more than surprised to see a mild question in the way he squinted his eyes. Not mad, but curious.
I moved my mouth to say the words, but no sound came out. It was the slight shift in his body, the way he moved his torso and head in my direction, the subtlest movement to let me know I had his full attention, that I found my voice again.
"Would you mind if I hide out here with you?"
He shook his head.
I immediately plopped down on the first step, hyper-aware that if I stretched my legs, it would be too close to his own, so I did the opposite and hiked them close to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself to avoid any contact.
I stared again at his bland expression and forced myself to try to be social.
"I remember you from the cafeteria," I started.
He nodded. "You choked."
A startled laugh escaped from my throat. Good god, his voice. "I made a wonderful impression, then." I had to physically stop myself from clearing my throat as I listened to his voice. Goose-pimpled flesh immediately covered my arms and legs, and I could have sworn that the hairs on the back of my neck stood attention. Even my ears felt flushed. I admit that I am embarrassingly naïve with the opposite sex, but I never realized that a deep and raspy male voice could create such a visceral reaction in my body.
"And the staring," he commented.
I felt my face heat up and silently thanked the moonlight wasn't anywhere on me. "Sorry? You were interesting to watch."
He deadpanned, "That's not creepy."
"I'm just saying," I sighed, "you were off in your own world." I shrugged helplessly. "It was hard not to notice." My eyes drifted to his broad shoulders, so I asked, "Do you swim?"
He shook his head. "Minuteman for the ice hockey team."
I nodded as if that made all the sense in the world. If anything, it confused me more.
"Why are you hiding? Shouldn't you be…" I jerked my thumb to the door I had just come in from. Drinking into oblivion, finding a conquest, being a typical jock, "… in there?"
His reaction surprised me; my bias laid bare when he hadn't sent me an insufferable smirk or fake-humble chuckle I'd come to associate with a classic, egotistical jock.
"I'm a full-ride D1 athlete. Not worth the risk."
"That partially explains it. But if you won't join in, then why be here at all?"
He sighed. "Mostly for the team's benefit, try to bond or whatever."
I didn't consider myself to be the most expressive person in the world, but compared to him, I may as well be an open book. I knew I couldn't stop the furrow in my brow as I asked, "How would you being away from the party help to bond the team?"
"They'll try to find ways to rile me up, tease me for not being part of the action, but they'll remember that no matter what, I'm still gonna be around to have their backs."
I mulled the words in my head before I said them out loud. "That sounds like a secondary benefit."
He made a small noise in the back of his throat, not sure if it was meant to agree with me or not. "Did you get your coffee this morning?"
I wasn't expecting the question, so I sent him a bewildered look. "What?"
"Coffee shake?" he asked again. "Every time I walk past the cafeteria, I always see you with food and a shake."
My gift! "That was you?" And just like that, my good mood came back. "I did get it. It was the best part of my day," I thanked him. "I guess I'm not the only one who was watching, huh?" I teased him.
"Whatever," he responded. He squinted his eyes again, this time I could tell he was trying to find the words. "Why was I interesting to watch?"
"Because…" I began, trying not to linger on the fact that I'd be opening myself to humiliation again, "I have a hard time making friends. And you had people that wanted you around." I hugged my legs a little tighter. "But you weren't even there… and they didn't mind."
The concentrated stare of his eyes on mine scared the bejeebus out of me, yet I couldn't tear myself away. I wish I could see the color, but all I could distinguish was dark, like his hair.
"I think," I told him, "you'd rather be alone in a crowded place than be alone on your own."
His eyes unfocused for a moment until I realized he was staring at a point behind my head. "Psych major?"
I shook my head this time. "Maybe a kindred spirit."
The silence that stretched between us felt safe and companionable, despite what I believe were his attempts to seem inhospitable.
"Is that why you're here then?" he asked.
Reminded of the reason why I even left my room in the first place, I immediately hid my face against my knees. "It's so embarrassing."
"And why is that, kindred spirit?" he asked sarcastically.
I ignored the bite in his question, but answered honestly. "Two horny kids needed a room. My room to be more specific."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Did they kick you out?"
"… Not necessarily." I waited for a beat as I realized he wanted me to elaborate. "It was either watch them take over or leave. I decided to leave."
I watched him shoot up from the stairs, so impossibly taller than me even while I sat on the top step. "Get up. Show me your room."
"Y'know, saying things like that can be taken out of context." He didn't even try to respond, just letting me know with the line of his mouth and eyes he wasn't trying to be funny. Well, neither was I. Just saying.
He held out his hand to help me stand up, and selfishly I wanted to stay this way a while longer. It was oddly attractive watching his dark hair fall behind his head, how his neck stretched to look up at me.
"Room?" he reminded me.
"Follow me," I said. I opened the door back to the party, startled to feel the bass squeezing my chest after the relative quiet in the staircase. I could feel the heat of his body close behind me, the smallest amount of pressure of his hand on my lower back to help me keep moving.
I could feel the hidden smiles and scandalized ogling around us as I led him to the dormitories of the building, straight for my room.
"Just ignore them," he whispered in my ear. The party was loud, the act a simple matter of logistics, but my spine tingled. I hoped against hope that he didn't notice, or at least had the decency to not rub it in my face.
We stopped at room 404 and surprise, surprise, a sock was tied to the knob.
"Here," I stated awkwardly. "You know where I live now."
He stared at the sock for a moment and asked, "Would you like your room back?"
I fidgeted as the awkwardness grew. "Well, yes. But seeing how it's occupied…"
He gently grabbed my shoulders as he placed me against the wall next to my door, facing away from the inside of it. "Just wait," he told me. I heard him resolutely open the door, then the shrieks of the occupants inside.
"Get out," he said icily.
"The fuck man? Is this even your room?"
"It sure as hell isn't yours." The other man in the room sputtered. "You can walk out, or I can drag you out. The choice is yours."
"Jesus, man. Yeah, fine, we're leaving." The couple scrambled out of the room, but the other man couldn't help himself calling us cockblocks on the way out.
"What did you say?" my stranger called after them loudly, the couple tripping over themselves trying to run away faster.
I snickered at them, both clutching at my stolen bed sheets and carrying the loose clothing they didn't have time to put back on.
I sent him a grateful smile as I entered my room. "Thank you."
I craned my neck to watch him at full height. I could see him in full color – pale complexion, brown eyes, chocolate straight hair. In a small, cramped space, he dominated every sense, and it was equal parts terrifying and arousing and more than I could manage. Yet I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving quite yet.
I licked my lips, and I winced internally at how obvious my thoughts may be broadcasting. "Could you reach that top shelf? I need new bed sheets."
He made an easy grab for the new sheets where I would've struggled, even if I had used my collapsable platform. My eyes darted to the patch of skin revealed where his shirt rode up, and the look he sent me told me he knew what I was doing. Mercifully, he did not comment on it.
I decided to also put myself out of my misery, and made myself busy by flipping over the mattress. First thing in the morning, I was buying a new one and throwing this out to the communal dumpster. If I could set it on fire, I would.
Once I finished tucking the corners of the new sheets, I noticed my stranger slowly walking toward the door. I felt myself panic, still not ready to pop the bubble we found ourselves in.
"Would you-", I winced outwardly this time at how I instantly yelped in my panic, so I made a conscious effort to calm down. "Would you be willing to stay for the night? I'm not… assertive, and I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight." Then as an afterthought, "My roommate doesn't sleep here. She'd much rather stay at her boyfriend's."
I smoothed the last of the new sheets over my bed, refusing to watch him reject my proposition. I realized too late that the sock still at my door was as useful a deterrent as any, so there was no real reason to stay.
"Sure," he responded. "Kindred spirit."
I swallowed a knot in my throat at that. I could tell he was teasing and meant no harm by it, but the fact that he saw straight through the question unnerved me.
I turned around and found comfort in his gaze. He may not have liked that I saw what he'd clearly kept to himself, but he acknowledged it to me at least. "I'm Sloane," I whispered.
"Theo."