"Temptation Has Kaleidoscope Eyes"

I have discovered Temptation. He comes in the form of an eighteen-year-old boy with kaleidoscope eyes and soft, dirty blonde curls. His hands, larger than mine, never lose their heat. You want to be held by them. With all his warmth, it's surprising that he smiles so sparingly - an eclipse of expression that is only shown when he genuinely feels it inside. Rare. He strums his own songs on his guitar, wanders outside with anyone interesting enough, hangs a fallen bus stop sign above his bed, spray paints over insults staining a tunnel wall, and comments, always comments, on things people usually don't notice.
"That's not how this game works," he says when you try to steer the conversation, or be the one who convinces him to do something. That's when he smiles - in between the why and the how, knowing that you are trying your hardest but will always lose in the end.

I have discovered Temptation. It was Welcome Week '07, the time when incoming UMBC freshmen met the rest of the crew before a semester of pirating through a sea of uncharted experiences. On this particular Monday, during this particular moment, the freshmen were gathered in the University Center Ballroom for the "RU Ready? Rights, Responsibilities, and Resources" event. Three walls were lined with tables, each seated with a representative from a different resource office on campus; the fourth was occupied by a stage. The objective was to receive a sticker from every table by asking each a reasonable question.

I don't remember the name of the table where I was waiting in line, but I do know it was the one closest to the stage. I had the strange feeling I knew the back of the head in front of me; but as I took a step forward for a look at the face, I realized I was wrong.

It was too late to pretend we hadn't made eye contact. I had two choices: an embarrassing moment of awkward half-smiles after the common blunder of mistaking someone for someone else, or a nonchalant attempt to make a new friend. Having been a near-wilting wallflower in high school, I settled with introducing myself. As long as I met at least one new person each day, I figured coming to the Welcome Week events wouldn't be a waste of time. Looking back, I should not have dismissed "RU Ready?" as a rhetorical question.

Temptation and I must have crossed paths multiple times again, because by Friday, we were walking around perfectly comfortable with each other's company. He threw compliments at me and I caught them with all the verbal grace a teenage girl can muster. People teased me for how utterly obvious he was about liking me.

"So where are we going?" I asked for the first time in what was to become a common question-and-answer conversation between us.

"We're going to find the highest point on campus," he replied as he strolled along with his raised shoulders that never fell, in his shoes with scribbled notes from high school friends.

"I heard it was the 7th floor of the library."

We wandered through seemingly deserted buildings, winding up staircases and looking out of windows, eliminating the chance that I had heard wrong. When we finally took the elevator to the 7th floor of the library, at the far left end we found a panoramic scene that spanned an empty, pink-carpeted circle lined with glass windows. It was the perfect juxtapose of land embroidering sky, stretching as far as Baltimore City. It has been my favorite spot ever since; his too, I think.

Later that day, as we walked up the grass-covered ledges that cascade down the front of the Commons, I was thrown off guard when Temptation asked me out to dinner. This was a bold request considering that we had already spoken about my religious background - about how my family is Muslim, so dating isn't considered appropriate. Naturally, I said, "No," flattered nonetheless. It was the first time I had been asked out, and I thought it was the first time any single person had shown interest in me as an individual (but it was only because I was a girl - a piece of reality I chose to ignore). The semester had yet to begin, and I was already dazzled with "the honeymoon stage" of college, as my mother labeled it and repeatedly warned me to keep in mind.

Luckily, I met Clarity during Welcome Week as well, who shared my goal of becoming an extroverted introvert. As much as we had in common, she was a much more objective version of myself. While my image of Temptation was rose-colored with intrigue for his whimsical ways and flowery words, she found him to be arrogant and rude. But it wasn't until two or three weeks into classes that Clarity ever mentioned her honest opinion to me.