College Kids And Champagne

Burgers And Rodeos

I breathed a sigh of relief - I’d had a good night, and I’d gotten to class on time. I took that as a divine sign that I’d be able to handle college. The people around me were chattering as the professor shuffled papers and I felt content.

“Hey, I know you,” came a voice from beside me. My nerves exploded, my previous calm gone. I went rigid, right down to my blood, which I could’ve sworn turned solid in my veins. Fear consumed me. My mind spun with panic. Oh God I’ve been recognized. It’s all over. And so soon. I thought I’d have more time.

All of this was internal of course. On the outside, I simply turned to face my accuser. A guy my own age, with dark auburn hair and soft grey eyes. He was tall and burly, but his face was dotted with friendly freckles, giving him a cuddly teddy bear like quality.

“We met at orientation,” he went on, mistaking the fear in my eyes for confusion.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, the panic rushing out of me along with the air. “Right! Riley!”

“Right!” he said, seeming pleased. “And you’re Nikki. You’re from the East too right?”

“Yeah Pennsylvania,” I told him, trying to rack my brain for where he was from. “And you’re from . . . Long Island?”

“Good memory,” he noted, tapping a pen against his blank notebook. “So how was your first night here?”

“Well I’m happy to report I did not puke, if that answers your question,” I said laughing. He laughed too. He had a nice smile, open and warm. “What about you?”

“I too, did not puke. Though it was touch and go there for a while, I must admit,” he replied. I found myself intrigued by the way he spoke. He didn’t sound like most college guys. He sounded rather intelligent actually.

That was the end of our conversation for the time being though. Class started, not with a bang but with the terrible creaking of the projector screen as it descended. Trix had been right - class was a joke. We all got a syllabus, and the professor read it aloud to us. It was head splittingly dull, but I preferred that to challenging, given that it was still not even ten.

When class ended, I walked out with Riley. He towered over me. He was even taller than Jacen. He seemed like the kind of person who probably had a lot of trouble in the subway. He had to be ducking all the time, to avoid getting smacked in the face by low hanging signs.

“So, Creative Writing,” I said as we walked out into the California sun. Even at 9:55 in the morning, it was already hot. I had a feeling I was going to like it here - or die of heatstroke. “Easy A or do you actually like to write?”

“I wouldn’t say that I like to write. I’d say that I have to write,” he explained. “Actually, it drives me kinda crazy sometimes - but I just have to.”

“I totally feel you!” I exclaimed, giddy to have found someone with a common interest. Was this what going to a big school was like? “For me it’s like, I have all these stories rattling around in my head - and if I didn’t write them down, I’d go insane!”

In my excitement I had fallen behind his long strides, so now I had to scamper to keep up.  He shook his head at me and laughed. “So what exactly do you write?” he wondered, “You know, to keep from going insane.”

“Plays mostly. I feel like it’s such a lost art. And besides, I’ve always loved being in them - back in high school that is.”

“Very cool,” he said, nodding.

“What about you?”

“I want to be a screenwriter. That’s why I came all the way out to California. I figure this is the place I have to be.”