Accepted (3 page)

He looked at me as the corners of his mouth tipped up, and I noticed the same amused look in his eyes I’d seen that first day on the stairs.

I’m such an idiot.

"Alright. Well, Ashley," he began, speaking formally and holding a pen to his mouth like a microphone. "Where do you live?"

I chuckled at his theatrics, but as I processed the question, two thoughts went through my mind. One, I can’t believe I couldn’t think of that question and, two, where
did
I live.

I wanted to answer Colin honestly. Sure, I liked him as a guy, but I also liked him as a person and a friend, and I wanted to be truthful. I didn’t, however, want him to feel sorry for me.

Since I’d confided some of my story to Amber that first day, I hadn’t opened up or offered any more information about my life to her or to anyone else. I wanted to be like everyone else here, and no one else here was homeless or family-less. That first day, I could tell Amber had felt sorry for me, and I definitely did not want Colin feeling that way. I decided, at that moment, that no one here could know about my family or my life before I came here; I wouldn’t give anyone else a reason to feel sorry for me.

The honest answer to Colin’s question was: Room 213, Mikkelsen Hall, Chicago, Illinois. That was where I lived, but that wasn’t the answer I was going to give him.

I didn’t want him to know the truth, but I didn’t want to lie to him. So, I worded my answer carefully, hoping to avoid both.

"I came here from Omaha, Nebraska. I went to Omaha Community College last year."

I didn’t answer his question, but I didn’t lie. I just gave him an answer he could apply how he wanted. Then, quickly, I turned the tables.

"Where are you from, Colin?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer from hanging out with Randi.

"Springfield. It’s about three hours from here." He stopped, and then started again. "I actually grew up with Randi Jared. We went to school together our whole lives." He looked at me.

"And then you went to college together," I finished.

"Yeah…that wasn’t on purpose, though." He shook his head. "I didn’t know she was going here until I got here. We all thought she was going to some fashion school in New York," he explained.

I’m not sure why he explained all that to me, but it made me feel good to know that they didn’t plan to come here together. It made me feel even better that he wanted
me
to know it.

I looked at him and smiled timidly. He looked back at me expectantly. My stomach flip-flopped again.

"I’m not good at this at all. I can’t think of any questions," I explained truthfully as I looked back down at my hands.

"Okay," he said, and he leaned down toward me to make me look at him. "I’ll ask the questions, then."

And he did. For the next hour, even after most groups had given up, Colin grilled me about all different facets of my life. He didn’t pry or ask any deeply personal questions. I didn’t feel uncomfortable about the questions or even have to carefully phrase my answers. He mainly asked about my likes and dislikes: movies, music, books, food.

He asked if I like school, and I emphatically answered "yes" without thinking, only realizing after the word was out that may not be the most common answer to that specific question. This set off a barrage of questions about why I liked school. There were so many reasons I wanted to tell him: about it being one of the few places I felt normal and the soothing familiarity of classrooms and desks — places and things that stayed the same no matter what city or state I was in. In the end, though, I explained that it all came down to a thirst for knowledge. I really
did
want to learn, to know as much about everything as I possibly could.

He laughed and called me a know-it-all, and then he asked my major.

"Pre-Med," I answered, still smiling at him. I was always smiling at him.

His face lit up. "Seriously?" he asked, and I nodded yes. "I’m Pre-Med, too." He grinned at me. "Maybe we’ll have some classes together," he continued.

And he looked genuinely happy about that possibility.

****

A little while later, we finally gave up on our interview. It was late, and classes started in the morning, and I had an eight o’clock class. I said good-night to Colin reluctantly and headed back to my room. Amber and Randi were both there waiting for me, luckily I was prepared.

"Hey, Guys," I began, and then I looked right at Randi, and continued, "You never told me that you grew up with Colin. How neat! He told me you guys have gone to school together your entire lives. That’s so cool!"

She couldn’t say a word.

Chapter Three

After tossing and turning for most of the night, I finally succumbed to my exhaustion and got some peace sometime around dawn. I wasn’t expecting to feel this nervous, but soon after Amber started snoring, my mind started racing.

I’d spent nearly every minute of the past three days with someone, mainly Amber. But tomorrow, I was on my own. What if I got lost and was late to class? What if I went to the wrong classroom? What if I couldn’t find my way back to the dorm after my classes? I’d never been this nervous about the first day of school before, and I had a lot of practice being the new kid on that first day.

When my alarm sounded, I jumped up out of bed and got dressed and ready. Amber was still sleeping. She’d designed her schedule so she never had to wake up before 11:00am on any given day, a fact she seemed pretty proud of. I grabbed my books, purse and schedule and headed out the door.

It seemed that everyone on my floor shared Amber’s aversion to the morning; my walk through the dorm was a solitary one. The weather was perfect—warm and sunny—when I stepped outside. I took this as a sign that today would be a good day.

I walked across campus, hoping I remembered the way to my first class correctly. Apparently, I did, and soon the science building came into view. I walked up the steps of the large, stone building and into the first class of my new life.

If I’d been nervous when I woke up this morning, I was terrified now. I found the classroom but paused outside the door. I took a few deep breaths — in an attempt to calm myself — and walked in.

Community college had been like high school—13
^th
grade. I had no illusions that this experience would be the same.

As I entered the room and looked around, I was struck first by its size. The room was massive. It was the largest classroom I had ever seen, let alone been in, and it had stadium seating like an auditorium or concert hall. There were no desks, just rows of seats that curved around the room. There wasn’t even a desk at the front of the room for the teacher; instead a tall, wooden podium stood where one should have been.

I was blocking the door, so I walked into the room, ambled up two shallow steps, and took a seat in the second row. I was early, a product of my irrational set of fears this morning, so I was one of the first students in class. I got my textbook, notebook, and pen out of my bag and waited for class to begin.

A few minutes later, as the class was filling up, an older, attractive man walked in the room and strode to the podium. He set a notebook and a stack of papers down and looked at his watch before looking up at the students sitting in his own personal stadium. Then, he introduced himself.

"Good morning. I’m Professor Jonathan Kinsey, and this is Environmental Science." As he spoke, he wrote SCI 101 on the whiteboard behind the podium. Then, he grabbed the pile of papers and handed them to a boy sitting in the first row. The boy took one, and passed the rest of the pile on to the student next to him. When the pile got to me, I realized it was a syllabus — a very thick syllabus.

Yeah, this wasn’t going to be like high school.

****

My first class wasn’t as bad as the eleven-page syllabus had convinced me it would be.

When we finished passing around the syllabus, Professor Kinsey took attendance before proceeding to talk about himself while sporadically mentioning something from the syllabus for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Once we were all sufficiently informed of his qualifications, merits, and research interests, he let us leave.

I was relieved to get out of class a couple of minutes early. It gave me more time to find my next class.

Next on my schedule was Organic Chemistry and, thankfully, it was in the same building as my Environmental Science class. I still had some time left over after finding my classroom, so I went outside to grab a cup of coffee from a cart I’d passed in the front of the building. My nerves had wreaked havoc on my sleep last night, and I was dragging a bit.

The campus was starting to fill up and — although I didn’t see any faces I recognized — I was, once again, filled with my newly familiar sense of contentment. I was enjoying the rest of campus and what college had to offer as much as I was enjoying my living situation and the friends I had made. This quickly reminded me of how lucky I finally was.

And, apparently, my luck was just about to get better.

As I turned with my coffee to walk back up the steps of the science building, I saw my first familiar face of the day.

It was Colin.

The moment I saw him walking toward the building, my stomach started flip-flopping, and I felt my face break into an enormous smile. And when he noticed me, he smiled, too.

"Ashley! Hi!" He waved as he walked toward me. "I was hoping to see you today. I figured, you know, science major, science building…" he trailed off as I just stood there, surprised to see him. Today, he was a bit more dressed up than I’d seen him, wearing khaki shorts and a light blue button down shirt that made his eyes even more striking. I just stood there, smiling stupidly, and I wondered if I would ever get used to how ridiculously good-looking he was.

Finally, I realized I should say something. I also realized that it was nowhere near in my capacity to say something cute or witty, so I settled for factually correct as though not to embarrass myself any more than was inevitable.

I began by nodding and then forced my mouth to open. Baby steps, Ashley
…

"You figured right. I had Environmental Science this morning. Now, I have Organic Chemistry." See, now that wasn’t so hard
.
I got three whole sentences out.

Then he smiled again, and it was all over. I lost any train of thought I’d had going. He spoke again, and what he said started all new trains of thought.

"Organic Chemistry? I have Organic Chem now, too." He looked happy. "Professor Johnson?" he asked.

I had no idea who the teacher was; I wasn’t even sure how he knew that. All I had was a course name and a room number.

I looked up and shrugged, "Room S12?" I wasn’t sure if I answered his question or asked one of my own, but he just looked down at me, a pleased look on his face, and nodded.

"Alright, then, let’s go to class." And he walked up the steps. I followed him, suddenly pleased too.

Colin led me to the middle of the room. We sat, and he dropped his book bag on the floor by his feet.

"This is such a nice surprise," he said and reached over to squeeze my hand.

Yeah — Randi or not — I
definitely
liked Colin.

****

As I sat next to Colin in Organic Chemistry, I wondered if having classes together was actually a good thing.

Unlike my first professor, the Organic Chemistry professor comprehensively explained the syllabus, including course requirements, objectives, policies and assignments. All things I was sure were going to be important in the grand scheme of the course.

And I didn’t hear a word she said.

Once again, I was completely distracted by the man sitting next to me.

We were in another massive classroom dominated by stadium seating. We would, over the course of the semester, split our time between this room and the chemistry lab. There were no spaces between the seats, just a thin metal arm rest jutting out from the spot where the seat backs met each other.

Every time Colin moved — to grab his notebook, to turn off his cell phone, to turn the pages of the syllabus we were reviewing — his body brushed some part of mine. By the time we were on the third page of the syllabus, he had brushed me three times with his arm and once with his leg.

And I was frozen.

Every time he touched me, albeit accidentally, my stomach dropped, and my cheeks flamed. My entire face was on fire within the first twenty minutes of class, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the boy to my left. I was afraid to move even a quarter of an inch for fear that I would inadvertently shift myself too far away for his unintentional brushes.

To make matters worse, my mind, which never wanders in class, began to drift away and I, the girl who rarely loses focus on a task, drifted with it.

As I sat frozen in my seat, waiting for the next time Colin brushed against me, I wondered what it would be like if his brushes
weren’t
accidental — if he was touching me on purpose…leaning his leg against mine casually as he relaxed in his seat, running his fingers down my arms, holding my hand in his, entwining our fingers together…

And as I imagined this, I felt myself smiling, my fantasy becoming so detailed that I could actually feel his warm hand, his long fingers, wrapping around my wrist. I could hear him saying my name again and again, the concern in his voice growing each time he repeated it…

Wait…what?

"Ashley?
Ashley
?"

Oh
no
. I looked over at him. His face was filled with concern. I cringed.

"Sorry." I smiled sheepishly. "I’m just…" I closed my eyes and rubbed my face, which was on fire, in my hands. "…You know, taking it all in. E-everything’s a little o-overwhelming," I stuttered. I hoped that being overwhelmed was a good excuse for acting like a lunatic.

He smiled. "Don’t worry, Ash. I’ll help you." And as he stood, he put his hand under my elbow to help me up.

Thank goodness next class is in the lab.