Three
The breeze is comfortable under the obscure tree this evening. It is already 6 PM and my first day of college is officially done and over with. The day wasn't exactly awful. Despite the aberrant glances from Professor Collins, I enjoyed my classes. I only had to review syllabi, which was pretty relaxing.
I exhale while watching the sky transition into a luminous red. The scenery is such a beautiful view here on this large campus. I'm glad I chose this elegant spot.
I willingly relax my head against the tree while closing my eyes pleasantly.
I could get used to this.
"Mind if I join you?" A shadow casts over me. His low voice startles my tranquility.
I open my eyes to see Blake gazing down at me with a welcoming grin. What's he doing here? Not to put this in a harsh way, but we are not friends. There has to be a better place he can be than here.
"Um, go ahead." I pull my book bag closer to me for him to sit.
To be honest, I don't wish for him to be present with me. This was one time of the day where I can be composedly alone. However, declining his welcome would be too rude of me. I just don't have the heart to say no.
He sits down with his knees propped up while resting his forearms on them. After an exhale, he asks, "Stunning view, isn't it?" He squints at the sunset.
I stare at him for a moment. "Yeah." My head turns away inadequately. This is just to odd for him to be here. I don't even know his last name. What am I suppose to say?
I then happen to notice his duffel bag beside him, giving me a great idea for small talk to make this less awkward. "You play a sport?" My finger traces a circle in the grass.
"Football." He replies while still watching the sunset tranquilly. "It's my second year here playing."
I huff and shake my head at the ground. He's a football player here.
"What?" He asks after catching my expression, his face puzzled and quizzing my feature with curiosity.
"Nothing." I reply softly at him as a way of biting my tongue. I'd rather not start anything.
I'm not sure why he is trying to befriend me. He's a jock. I know how this ends. Bottomline: he's a complete douche.
"What is it?" He asks again, straightening up more as he challenges me.
I roll my eyes. "You. Guys like you don't talk to girls like me often." Besides, shouldn't he be with the cool kids? I'm definitely not one of them.
I was never a "cool kid," but I also was never a shy one either. Everyone knew my name. There were unfamiliar students that would greet me in the hallways and students who would gladly talk to me during class. However, I don't consider myself one of the "cool kids" because I was never apart of the clique. I preferred to hang out with maybe four or five people each day. Not once did I party nor do drugs or even find myself getting with the trend of the month. I was apart from all of that. I wasn't cool, but I wasn't boring either.
"Guys like me?" He chuckles as he points at his chest like I've insulted him.
"Yes. You know, jocks." I shake my head at the ground disapprovingly.
"First off, I'm not a jock. I'm not like those other assholes." He narrows his eyes at me. "Let's not play with stereotypes here."
I peek up at him, allowing him to continue.
"And secondly, I doubt that all the jocks ignored you in high school." His head tilts to the side as he smiles, accusing me of some type of treat for the boys.
I begin to process the information while refelcting my high school days. I guess a lot of the jocks did hit on me quite a bit, more than several occasions, to be fair. I never really thought about it until now. It just became adaptable.
"As what I thought." Blake straightens his lips after watching my silent contemplation.
I smile at the ground while pushing my hair back behind my ear. I glance up and add, "That doesn't mean you're right."
"But it doesn't mean I'm wrong." He defensively objects.
"Whatever." I throw grass at him.
He chuckles while leaning back, attempting to dodge the grass. His hand rips strands from the ground and throws it back at me. The wind catches them like feathers in the air, floating softly to my lap.
I begin to think about what he said earlier today, about how I'm different. I'm still not all that sure what he exactly defines by that. What is it that seperates me from everyone else? What am I doing to make him believe that I am different? Is it the way I talk? Is there something that I have done?
It's currently silent between us after our short laughs. This is what I fear: inadequate laconism, especially with people I just met. Inarticulateness with newcomers is difficult than it is with associations. When I'm with the unknown, I find it distressing to gather conversation because I have no clue who they are.
Breaking the awkward silence, I inquire, "Define different."
He tilts his head. "The opposite of similar?" He chuckles.
"No." I quickly utter. "I meant what you told me earlier. About how I'm different." I stretch out one leg as I watch him.
He stares at me for a moment, observing my expression. He then replies, "Alright." He leans back up against the tree. "I said that because I think you're not like the other students here. You're not like the girls here either." He watches the sunset while explaining. "You're just your own person. You're not stuck up or cruel or even dress like the typical sorority girl. You're just. . .different."
I suck my lips in and allow all of that to sink in. Maybe he considers me to be friendly because I tend to bite my tongue a lot. Objecting against people with what I think probably wouldn't be the best idea. Avoiding arguments is what I prefer. Sometimes I am convinced that reporting people what's really on my mind is not worth it. What is the cost of it anyway?
"You don't even know me. We literally just met today." I accuse while shrugging, brushing my hair back into place bashfully.
"I don't have to know you my entire life to acknowledge everything I just said. You just carry it with you." He stretches out one leg and rests his head against the tree. "Tell me I'm wrong."
I turn my head away. He is right. He definitely is also not the first person to assume my personality by my body language. I imagine that this time was just the first I've ever heard that I am different. Am I really?
"Rosie," He turns his head toward me. "have you. . .met anyone today that may have offered you something?" He squints his eyes from the sun.
I tilt my head with my furrowed eyebrows. "Um, no?" I chuckle. "What do you mean by that?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just wondering something." He grins.
"Blake!" Someone in the distance calls.
We both glance in the direction it came from. Ahead of us is a stocky man striding towards us.
Blake glances at me and informs while standing, "That's my roommate. I'll catch you later." I wave at him.
The two men walk side-by-side in the opposite direction.
I'm surprised by today. I've already made a couple of friends. I wasn't expecting any conversation with anyone here.
Suddenly, I remember my mom reminding me to call her when I was done today. She would love to hear that I am doing well so far.
I pull out my phone and push it close to my ear, waiting for for it to ring.
"Hi, mom." I welcome after a few seconds.
"Hi, sweetie!" She exclaims. "How was your first day?"
"It was actually really great." I smile at the ground. "I met a couple people today. I think we'll get along great." My fingers pick at the grass, pulling a strand up one-by-one.
"Oh, darling! That is so wonderful! I'm glad you made some friends. How about your professors? Are they nice?" Her voice becomes warm.
I glance up. "Oh yes. My art professor is wonderful." I smile. "And my math. . ." I pause, my smile falling. "My math professor is nice."
Real nice.
"Oh, how amazing!" She replies. I can almost see my mother smiling through the phone.
I hear my father in the distance asking who she is talking to.
"It's Rosie!" She calls out away from the phone.
I smile while rolling my eyes. I then spot a tall, broad figure. My expression falls.
"I said it's Rosie!" My mother repeats louder this time.
Professor Collins strides towards me gracefully. His eyes are locked on mine as he squints from the late sun.
What's he doing here? Why is he walking towards me?
He's not really walking towards me, right? I check over the tree and only see people in the far distance.
Why would he want to see me? Did I do something wrong? I assume he doesn't want to make conversation with me.
"Rosie? Rosie? Hello?" My mother asks. "Hello?"
"Oh, yes?" I shake my head, still watching him stride toward me. He's only a couple feet away now.
"I asked if you would like to talk to your father." Her voice is gentle now.
"Um," I watch him grow closer. "actually, I have to go. I'll talk to you later." I press 'end' on the phone before she could reply.
When he approaches me, I rise to a full stand. He's about a foot or two taller than me this close. I look up at him. "Yes, sir?"
He grins down at me, lines on both sides of his mouth appear. His short, fluffy hair lightly dances in the soft breeze. His eyes grow darker now that the sun has almost completely set. I bite my lip as I admire him.
Oh, boy. My breathing becomes heavier as my chest warms.
His eyes shift to my lip-biting and then back at my eyes. "You forgot your wallet." He finally says after a moment. He hands me a small, giraffe-print wallet.
My mouth opens when I see it. I grab it quickly and admit, "I had no idea I left it." I glance back at my bag and remark, "It must have fallen out."
"I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but I wasn't sure if you were going to need at all any time soon." He slides his hands into his pockets as he stares down at me.
"Oh, thank you." I stare at it in my hand. I glance back up at him, admiring his beauty. His skin seems a lot darker now and his suit fits him so comfortably. How can one man be so damn hot? My bottom lip meets my teeth.
"Oh, and one more thing," he adds while sliding his hands out of his pockets. "Don't bite your lip like that around me."
I freeze. What did he just say?
"W-what?" The word slips from my lips softly. It's all I can manage to say at the moment. I can't even move right now.
He backs up while smirking at me and turns around. I watch him walk away with his long strides.
What?
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness already. I'm able to see my ceiling. I keep thinking about what professor Collins told me today.
Why did he say that?
Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he said something else. I could have sworn he told me not to bite my lip, though. But, why? What does he mean by that?
I turn on my side and sigh. The clock reads 12:48 PM. I need to get to sleep. I just can't stop thinking about what he said.
Why could he possibly want me to stop biting my lip around him? He can't be attracted to me. Right? Of course he's not. He's my professor.
I flip onto my other side.
What kind of professor is that demanding over something so ridiculous? Who the hell is he?