Campus King | 18+

Chapter Five

Luck must have finally been shining down on me because I didn't run into Fuckface for the next two days. It was amazing. The sun was brighter, the temperature was warmer and the air just smelled a whole lot sweeter. I was finally starting to recover from the trauma of interacting with him.

I'd managed to phone Bailey and tell her everything — because everyone knew that the best kind of therapy came from your best friend. Though, in this instance, she was useless. All she could focus on was trying to get me to tell her how hot he was. It was with great reluctance and disgust that I finally admitted he was one of the hottest men I'd ever seen and that he had the body of a Greek God. At least it seemed that way. I was praying that under his clothes he was actually really hideous. A bit of a far reach but it made me happier to picture it.

I didn't even complain when my mom called to gossip about my dad's new young girlfriend again. I just listened to everything she said as I ate microwaved ramen and mini-pizzas. And then my dad called soon after to complain about my mother annoying him while I ate cookies and cream ice-cream. Afterward, I settled in to watch a new series I was interested in and was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. Even sleep was good that night. No nightmares or sad dreams this time.

All was good with the world again.

This is why I decided to treat myself to a meal at the popular bar and grill, Moxie, near campus. It was Friday so I went pretty early to avoid the evening crowd. I thought I'd focus on one of my assignments while enjoying a plate of their famous nachos.

The bar was a ten-minute drive from our place with traffic. I parked my car in the gravel lot outside the bar. As I approached the weathered brick structure, I couldn't help but admire its rustic charm. The faded blue paint on the exterior hinted at its age, and the slightly creaking sign above swayed in the evening breeze, adding to the overall nostalgic feel. The low hum of chatter and distant notes of music seeping through the door promised a fun time.

Apparently, this bar was as old as Dale University itself.

Entering through the creaking double doors, I found myself enveloped in a warm, inviting atmosphere. The interior was adorned with vintage posters and memorabilia, proudly displayed on the brick walls. The rows of lights overhead cast a soft, golden glow, as generic rock music played in the background.

Several flatscreens played a recording of an old football game. It had to be one of our school's matches because one-half of the players were wearing blue and silver — our college colors. The few patrons that were here were focused on the screens or quietly chatting amongst each other.

As I walked further into the establishment, I couldn't help but notice the array of signed posters and photographs on the walls. Some of them were a testament to the talented musicians and artists who'd played here in the past. The rest were sports posters with scribbled autographs all over them.

The bar itself was an impressive sight — a polished wooden masterpiece that spanned the length of the room. Behind it stood two bartenders, manning the bar with the vibrant array of bottles on the shelves behind them.