Murphy and Me: Sophomore Fall

September: Warning Labels, Iced Mochas, and a Proposition

I have what's called the "Basic" meal plan. Fifteen meals a week, $100 in snack money (good for the cafe or the Pub) and three guest passes. I use these fifteen meals by eating breakfast and dinner during the week. When the mood strikes, I eat lunch, and only if some of the girls are eating with me.

To recap my weekend: It was interesting. I had lunch with Murph and Liam in Murph's room, though the smell of food made Dev turn an unhealthy shade of green, and he didn't come back for a while after nearly mowing Liam down to get to the door, spent some time doing homework in the pseudo-lounge outside my door, and went to dinner with the girls.

And, of course, texted Murphy.

I got plenty of sleep in my own dorm bed, and go up well-rested and ready to take on the universe bright and really freakin' early Monday morning. And everything was gravy until I agreed to meet Sasha, Cara, Em, and Mel for lunch.

The issue wasn't the food because it was chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries. I doused both liberally with honey, and after getting a glass of water, was headed down the main ramp to what is known as the third tier because it's...well...the third tier in our dining hall. There was a table of soccer players to my left, and a table of football boys on my right. I didn't see any that I recognized, but hot damn did they apparently know me by sight. They knew my name, too, and me being the genius that I am, I stopped and waited for two of them to get up and walk over.

I was suddenly very keenly aware of what I had chosen to wear that day – jeans, t-shirt, sneakers – and that they were significantly taller than I was. Which meant some craning.

"Hi." Once again, I stunned myself with my eloquence.

"Hi, Olivia," the one on the right said. "Look...We know you're tight with El - Murphy, but..." He struggled for words. If I were a man we would not be having communication issues - he would simply verbally expel what he was thinking, grunt a few times, and wait for my answering response. Simplified? Very. Realistic? No so much.

His buddy took pity on us. "What he's tryin' to say is don't hurt Elf."

I blinked. "Oh - Okay." This was not a conversation that I had expected to have with Murph's football buddies in the middle of our dining hall. This was the conversation I was expecting Sasha to give Murphy, only with threats of bodily harm, too.

"I'm not gonna hurt him," I blurted. I had no intentions or unintentions of hurting my bo - Murphy. Murphy. No inclination to hurt Murphy.

The redhead on the left rolled his eyes. "That's what the last one said.

“I'm not her." I looked between the two. "I am not going to hurt him." I gave him my most sincere smile - it looked a lot like the one I wear on a regular basis, especially around Murphy. "Really, I'm not. But I would like to eat my chicken nuggets."

They flushed; the redhead winced. "Yeah, sorry. Just - Just - "

"Warning duly noted, gentlemen," I said, and side-stepped around them. And I did get the warning that was there because it was the same one that Sasha was inevitably going to deliver.

I sat down at our table like nothing had happened knowing full-well that most everybody had probably stopped to stare. It was a natural cue; uncomfortable, self-conscious girl in the middle of the cafeteria, let's watch her freeze when not one but two boys stop her, and talk to her. And everybody stare right now.

Sasha nudged my leg as I chonked chicken nuggets.

"Was that Murphy?" Cara asked.

"No," I mumbled. "That's not Murphy."