First day of classes. Yeah. Walking into English class with a peach-colored ball in hand doesn’t exactly allow me to blend in. I take the first empty seat I can find. “Hey, is this seat taken?” a girl with the most gorgeous smoky-brown hair and blue eyes, asks me.
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, sure. You, it’s all yours,” I spit out.
“Thanks,” she says, sitting down. “I’m Cassie.”
“I’m Sarah. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, continuing to marvel over the unique color of blue contained within her eyes.
“I love your hair, by the way. It’s such a good color of blonde. That’s natural, right?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I can feel the blush heating up my cheeks. I should pay her back a compliment. Why am I getting flustered? “You have amazing lips…”
Wow—Seriously Sarah? That’s the best you can do? “I mean, I love the lip gloss you have on. What kind is it?”
“Oh.” She laughs as she reaches in her bag and pulls it out. “It’s called Rose Petal.”
“Nice, I’ll have to look for that,” I respond. Hoping she missed the bizarre blunder.
“Here, you can have it. I’ve got a spare at the dorms,” she says.
“Really? Thanks!” I say, taking it from her.
“I’ve got to ask, what’s with the basketball?”
“Oh, it’s a stupid team requirement. Rookies have to carry around a ball,” I respond.
“Oh, so you’re on the basketball team?”
“Yeah.”
“No way! That’s awesome,” she exclaims. “Maybe I can see you play sometime.”
“Yeah! Sure. Definitely!” God, I sound like I’m on meth or something. Calm down, Sarah. She’s probably not even into girls. That’d be my luck. Or she is, and she’s got a girlfriend.
“So, what does Peaches mean?” she asks, nodding at my basketball.
I can feel the heat instantly rush to my face. “Nothing…just a silly nickname.”
“Oh, cool. I like it.” Her smile is so genuine and innocent. Thankfully she doesn’t push for the exact meaning behind it.
“So, have you figured out what you want to major in?” she asks.
“Ummm. Not really. I’m here on a sports scholarship, so... I’ll probably do something general,” I say, twirling a string of hair around my finger. “What about you?”
“I want to do something with writing. It’s definitely something I’m passionate about,” she says.
“That’s cool. Is there anything in particular, like journalism or something?” I ask.
“Probably creative fiction, but I know that’s a hard field to get into, so I’m going to keep my options open.” She tucks a long string of her perfect smoky-brown hair behind her ear.
“Oh, I totally get that. I would love to go pro, but I’ll be keeping my options open as well.”
“Yeah, exactly. But I think you should go for it. I bet you’re amazing. You’re good enough to get a sports scholarship,” she replies.
“Aww, thanks,” I say, trying desperately not to stutter.
“Sarah, I didn’t know we have English Lit together,” Maly states as she sits down in front of me with her ball tucked under her arm.
“Hey Maly, this is Cassie. Cassie, meet my roommate Malynne.”
“Nice to meet you. I take it you’re on the basketball team too?”
“Yep,” Maly says.
“Good Morning Class,” An enchanting middle-aged woman walks in. Her mocha-brown hair drapes past her shoulders, a pair of high-rise white ankle pants hug her rather big butt and a scarlet blouse that compliment her eyes. “My name is professor Jenna Porter. You can feel free to call me Jenna. I’d like to keep this class casual and open. A writing class should be more of an open discussion rather than a mundane lecture.”
Not only is she gorgeous, but she seems so chill. This is going to be a difficult class to concentrate in. “So, let’s discuss what we’ll be doing this semester. For the most part, the papers I will assign will be open to your choosing. I want you to write about the things you find passionate. Writing should be fun. So as long as you turn in something that you’ve put appropriate time and consideration into, you’ll get a good grade.”
---
I hate math, and to make matters worse, I have it with Danielle. I’m not surprised to see her without her ball. Of all the college algebra classes available, why did I choose the only one with her in it?
“Hey, girl. Looks like this seat is empty,” your typical Abercrombie douchebag says as he sits down next to me. He’s even got the hair, neatly combed with a little wave to it. Please. “The name is Ethan, not to brag or anything, but I’m on the basketball team. Here on a sports scholarship.”
“Well, it’s obvious you aren’t here on an academic scholarship,” I respond.
“Ouch,” he says, taken aback. I wish there was an anti-douchebag repellent, but that would be too easy. “Feisty. I like that. So are you going to tell me your name?”
“Probably not,” I say flatly.
“Playing hard to get, you like to keep things interesting, don’t you? I’m all up for a challenge,” he says. Does he not know how to take a hint?
“Good afternoon everyone, welcome to College Algebra,” states a tall man with glasses thick enough to be bulletproof. “My name is professor Alvin Stafford. I’ll be teaching you the intricacies of algebra.”
It doesn’t take long before I’m dozing off. Why is math so boring? By the time class is over, I rush out of there as fast as I can. I can’t make it far before douchebag Evan or whatever his name is grabs my arm. “Hey, cool basketball. Peaches. Is that because you’ve got a peach for an ass?”
Of course, he’d know exactly what it stood for. I raise an eyebrow and tap my foot impatiently after I yank my arm from his grasp.
“So… There’s this cool party this weekend at this frat I’m rushing. It’ll be fun. Free drinks on me.”
“Sorry, I’ll be busy this weekend. Gotta run to my next class, bye,” I say. What a creep.
“Sarah. Are you heading back to the dorm room?” Danielle asks as she walks up to us.
“Sarah, huh?” Mr. Creep asks. Of course, Danielle hands my name over on a silver platter. “And who’s your friend?”
“Danielle, and what’s your name?” She bats her eyes and smiles, clearly displaying her interest in him.
“Ethan.” He drops a shit-eating grin that makes my skin crawl.
“It’s a pleasure,” Danielle replies as she steps closer. Of course, she’d go for a guy like him.
“I was just telling, Sarah, that my fraternity is throwing a party this weekend.”
“Oh, really? What fraternity do you belong to?” Danielle inquires, using her sickly sweet voice.
“Phi Sigma Phi,” he answers proudly like the douchebag he is.
“Well, it’s too bad we can’t drink. Well, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got class. Bye.” I walk away before either of them can stop me. A shiver goes down my spine from just thinking about that creep.