Chapter 2.

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To this day he can still remember the way vanilla filled the small dorm room the first time he was alone with her. Her hair was soaked, she had a towel wrapped around her curvy body and it was the first time he paid attention to the way her chest flushed when she was mad. He would see her mad again, so damn mad, more times than he could count, but he would never, ever, forget the way she tried to be polite to him at first. For no reason at all. She didn't owe him anything, she still doesn't, and he can only hope to see her mad at him again and again, for the rest of his life. 

The first day of the Fall Semester is always the absolute best for people watching. So many fucking idiots running around like chickens with their heads cut off, so many girls dressed in their most favorite outfits in an attempt to gain attention from men. 

It's the same cycle every year at every college across the globe. Washington State University just happens to be where I'm condemned to attend. I like it enough, it's easy and my professors cut me a lot of slack. Despite my lack of giving an actual fuck, I'm pretty decent academically. If I "applied myself more" I could be even better, but I don't have time or energy to waste obsessing over grades or plans or anything that could be obsessed over.

Sitting in front of the Student Union is the prime location for the show. Watching all the parents in tears  has to be my favorite part. It's amusing to me because my mum couldn't seem to get rid of me quick enough and some of the parents here act like their damn arms are getting cut off when their children, adult children mind you, are off to college.

A woman with huge fake tits and bleached hair hugs her puny, plaid shirt wearing son and I'm full on grinning as he starts to cry into his mum's shoulder. Fucking pussy. His dad is standing back, away from the pathetic sight, checking his expensive watch, waiting for his son and wife to stop blubbering. 

I can't imagine how that would feel, having my parents obsess over me. My mum was always caring, as caring as she could be but I fought it. I wouldn't and still won't accept it. Not from her, not from anyone.

"Hey man," Nate sits down across from me at the picnic table and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. "What's the plan for the night?" He asks as his fingers strike over the lighter.

"I don't know, we're meeting Steph in her room." I shrug and pull my phone from my pocket to check the time.  

Nate annoys me into walking to Steph's dorm from the Student Union. It's not a far walk, ten minutes or so, but I'd much rather drive than push through the masses of eager pupils decked out in their college best.

By the time we reach the dorms Nate is going on about the party this weekend. It's always the same every single weekend. What's there to be excited about?

Everything is always the same for me. Same group of friends, same amount of sex, same parties, same old shit, different day.

"We should knock, remember how pissed she was last time?" Nate reminds me.

I laugh to myself. Yeah, I do remember that day. It was last semester and I walked into Steph's dorm room without knocking. I found her on her knees in front of some asshole. I call him an asshole because, well, because he was wearing flip flops. A man in flip flops is automatically an asshole. He was embarrassed and Steph was pissed, she threw just about every item she owns in the direction of my head.

It made my entire week to see her so horrified. To this day I give her shit about it.

"Yeah, I remember." I finally stop laughing when she yells for us to come inside.

A blonde guy in a cardigan is standing in the middle of Steph's room. It takes me a moment to notice a woman and younger girl with them. The woman is hot, my eyes take her body in, tall frame, long blonde hair, decent size tits.

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