Brax: Wake your ass up, Sunshine. First day of college you know.
Shaking my head, I pulled at my lip with my teeth and grinned to myself.
Me: I’m already up, smarty pants. I’m an early riser anyway. What time’s your first class?
Brax: Smarty pants, eh? You’re wicked funny. Early riser, that’s right you’re usually out milking cows by now. 8am class for me. U?
Me: Same. Maybe I’ll see ya around.
Brax: Not if I see you first. ;)
Me: Very funny. Bye.
Brax: Catch ya later Gracie.
Brax Jenkins was an anomaly. While he looked like he’d knife you in a dark alley and rob you blind, he’d treated me with kindness and respect. He was funny. He was sexy and knew it, but not in an idiot way, like Tessa’s brother. And Brax might say his flirtations were part of his charm, but it was hard not to think otherwise when he point-blank asked questions like were you wondering why I didn’t try and kiss you? That’s something I’d tried really hard not to think about. Tessa had already warned me that he’d charm the pants off of me—at first. Is that what he was doing? And was I being naive enough to fall for it? It made my head ache thinking about all the stupid what-ifs. He seemed genuine. Real. Blunt and to the point. But was that all a perfected act to get what he wanted? The last thing I needed was to fall for some inked up bad boy baseball player, only to have my heart stomped on. Jesus, I hated doubts. Hated that I’d become such a suspicious person.
But did I really and truly want to go through any sort of hell again? Over a guy?
No, I wouldn’t go there. Not this time. I’d keep Brax Jenkins at a friendly distance, despite my traitorous heart doing monkey-flips at the mere thought of him.
By the time Tessa’s “sec” was over and she was out of the bathroom, I’d pulled on a pair of old soft faded jeans, my fave E.T. tee shirt, and a pair of All-Stars. After shaking out my hair and running a wide-toothed comb through it, I quickly re-braided it, brushed my teeth and washed my face. I was ready to go.
“God, I think I’m jealous,” Tessa said, staring at me in the mirror.
I wiped my mouth on my hand towel, hung it up and gave her a curious look. “Why?”
She pointed at me. “You throw on a ratty old tee shirt and some holey jeans and you look gorgeous.” She scowled at me, drawing her brows close. “No make-up. Low maintenance.” She rubbed her chin with a forefinger. “Maybe I’ll give that look a try.”
I shook my head and grabbed my backpack. “This is definitely not a ratty tee shirt, Tess.” I looked at her. “It’s a classic.” It was, too. I glanced down at it. My mom had preserved it from her teenaged years in the 80’s. An original E.T. movie tee shirt, black, with the logo and E.T.’s long glowing finger pointing. I loved it.
She grinned. “What-ev, freak. Let’s go.”
Together we cut across the courtyard, Tessa chatting non-stop and me slowly eating the spoonful of chunky peanut butter I’d grabbed on my way out. At the pavilion Tessa was joined by two other girls. “Guys, this is Olivia, my roomie. Liv, this is Marcie and Kelly,” she hugged them both. “My girls from back home.” Marcie was even taller than me, with nearly black, perfectly coifed hair and wide full lips. Kelly was Tessa’s height, petite, with a blonde stacked bob haircut that looked perfect on her. Her eyes were humongous and blue. Both smiled and said hey, but gave my big glob of peanut butter a strange look. Tessa waved. “See ya later.” They left, huddled together and giggling. Tessa’s laugh rose above the others, and I smiled and continued on my way to the Foster building and my first class of my college career: Lit Humanities.
The campus was alive and buzzing with students, even at this early hour in the morning, like ants pouring out of a mound. I continued eating off my spoon and weaved my way through sleepy-eyed and dreary walking college-goers, looking more like zombie extras from a horror movie than students. The scent of fresh cut grass rose from the ground and I inhaled; it reminded me of home and smelled clean and brisk. The air felt different this morning. An early onset of fall maybe? Or was it that I felt different? Either way, exhilaration filled me, and I trotted the steps of the bricked Foster front entrance two at a time. Inside, I shouldered my way down the hall to lecture hall 31, and ducked inside.
Winston was not a huge school, so the room wasn’t auditorium-style. It was just a big classroom, which was fine by me. A huge dry-erase board took up the wall behind the professor’s podium, and as I scanned the seats I noticed only three other students were there, spaced out, looking down at the handout that sat on every single desk.