College life was completely different from high school and how any stories or movies I'd come across portrayed it, but I loved every minute of my days at UW. Because of my shorter height, I always sat in the first or second row of my classrooms. Academic success was independently motivated and I took full advantage of my work ethic and desire to do well into my own hands... literally.
One aspect I hadn't expected prior to college was how I was forced to discover how I best learned. For me, that was 'tactile,' or hands-on learning. Very early my freshman year, even though I had my laptop, handwritten notes cemented the information better into my brain. I went one step further than status-quo level and focused not only on just what my professors wrote or provided for lecture notes but also whatever they said no matter how fast or messy my handwriting was.
I spaced each of my classes out at least an hour apart and between each one, rewrote and organized my jumbled class notes. That way, they were neater, more coherent, and the lecture information also more clearly cemented in my brain. Two weeks before a midterm or final, I typed up all my handwritten notes and threw away the paper copies.
Throughout each quarter, I also typed up all of my homework assignments so I had electronic copies. All of these efforts were very time-consuming but by the time I got to exams or term papers, I knew all the information I needed to complete them.
Another trick, that I taught Charlie, was we listened to only one song while we studied for a particular midterm or final, over and over. We then replayed that song in our heads during the exam for memory recall.
So, with almost all of my new textbooks purchased and notes folders lined with fresh paper, I geared myself up for class. After Logan and I found we shared Human Anatomy and he'd already bought the books, he offered to share them with me and I graciously accepted.
With my mental prep plan in the back of my mind, my stomach was full of excitement when I sat down in room 192 in PCar Hall for my eight am Elements of Statistical Methods lecture. Technically the brick and glass-enclosed building was called PACCAR Hall, but everyone at U-Dub called it PCar. The lecture room was lined with narrow tables split by an aisle between them. There were about fifty chairs total and the course title projected on a screen from a laptop.
While I waited for Dr. Pearce in my second row end table seat, other students gathered around me. I recognized no one but that was fine. After some shuffled movements on my right, a pair of tired brown eyes met mine and paused my eye scan. His athletic build slumped over in his seat like he preferred to have stayed in bed but he flashed me a slight smirk.
My cheeks warmed and I fixated my eyes down at the course description I'd printed out last night after Logan and I set up a makeshift study area on our dining room table. We both had laptops, fortunately, but them and a printer left little space for actually eating there.
Elements of good study design. Descriptive statistics including correlation and regression. Introductory concepts of probability and sampling; binomial and normal distributions. Basic concepts of hypothesis testing, estimation, and confidence intervals; t-tests and chi-square tests. Experience with computer software.
My eyes paused, reread that last sentence, and I inwardly groaned.
Programming? Great.
Programming was not my strength, in any shape or form. Suddenly, the course I'd assumed was going to be my easiest supplemental course now seemed like it wasn't and I hadn't even been to my other three classes yet.
Mentally I ran through my schedule when the last student stumbled in and got seated. I took earlier classes since I'd found I paid less attention in the afternoons. Labs were fine but I was nearly brain-dead during lectures. So I had structured my schedule for 8-9am Statistics, 10-11 Nutrition, and 12-1 Sports Medicine on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Human Anatomy was 9-10:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
My schedule allowed me to work 1-5pm in the library Mondays through Thursdays, where half the time I worked on my notes or homework and the other half I restacked books or checked out books for students. After work I usually caught up with Charlie at the end of the Huskies' practice and we went to dinner but that was now up in the air with Logan's preference. She usually hung out with Wes while I stayed in, studied, wrote my notes, did homework and papers, then went to bed and did the whole thing the next day.
My schedule only changed on Fridays and weekends, when I tutored student athletes. Saturday afternoons or evenings I attended the Huskies' home games in the lower level seat Charlie secured for me. But while others went out to parties or whatever else they did after games, I'd retreated back to our room, back to my quiet studying... where I had not internet-stalked Logan.
Sundays I usually went to the grocery store, cooked our weekly meals, and did some Ellie's Kitchen updates before I got ready for the next week.
Maybe Charlie has a point about my... social life.
"Good morning everyone!" A loud, sharp female voice called out. A tall, thin woman with curly gray hair and round glasses burst into the room. One of her arms clutched a stack of papers while the other shut the door loudly behind her.
"I'm Dr. Pearce, welcome to Stat Three-eleven, Stat Methods." She walked over to the laptop then clicked a button to start her program. "Since this class has some prerequisites, let's start out with a pop quiz so I know who's remembered the right background material."
At the groan that erupted, she only grinned and distributed smaller stacks to the first row tables. "It's not for grading."
As the girl ahead of me passed me some papers, my eyes caught the first question when I grabbed one and passed along the rest behind me.
'Name two measures of central tendency and state how they're different.'
While most people shared irritated or annoyed expressions and quietly grumbled protests, my face just broke out into a huge smile.
Easy peasy.
One quick look up showed the guy next to me had an opposite reaction. By the frown that furrowed his forehead, he looked like he preferred that he planned his own funeral than took this quiz.
Definitely not studying with that guy.
After I aced my Stat Methods hazing quiz, my other two classes were a lot less anticlimactic. Nutrition and Sports Medicine were both in Raitt Hall, a charming brick building on the quad, where I sat in between both classes and rewrote my Nutrition class notes. Both professors, Dr. Hall and Dr. Chen, basically went over the syllabus and assigned some initial reading chapters in our textbooks.
Since I actually didn't start work at the library until Wednesday, after I'd eaten lunch then recopied all my notes in Raitt Hall, I slowly marched across campus to Huskies Stadium. The leaves under the gigantic, charming cherry trees were still fully green but in just a few weeks they'd be brightly colored for fall. While the weather up here was definitely colder but, relative to the geography, the temperatures were still quite mild.
Huskies Stadium was a brick-walled palatial shrine of school spirit, overzealous booster club, alumni pride, and an understated amount of local prestige. Once I stood outside, I took a deep breath and looked up at its quiet historical reverence before I entered.
The Huskies' Athletic center encompassed two floors of administrative offices, two practice fields, locker rooms, a Physical Therapy Rehab and Recover office where Charlie worked, and an indoor training facility with state-of-the-art equipment that, unlike the student activity center, didn't smell of body odor and none the treadmills had 'out of service' signs taped to them like discarded crime scene evidence.
While I entered under the two-story entrance area, my tennis shoes squeaked on the cement floors. The charming brick walls were adorned with pictures of past players and building donors. A display case along one wall proudly displayed trophies, metals, and other Huskies accolades. Purple and gold banners with the blocked 'W' hung overhead and flapped gently with air circulation.
One glance at my watch showed I'd arrived a couple minutes before practice ended but I made my way towards the edge of the field where the team exited for the locker room. On the way, I caught sight of who'd invited me here and held up my hand in greeting. Once I was at the ground level, I hadn't waited very long before the guy I was supposed to tear a new one came into my view.
With his size, very hard guy to miss.
"Darrius Williams!!" My voice rang out in a half-yell, half shrill screech that echoed off the walls in the tunnel between the field in Huskies' Stadium and the Huskies' locker room.
The tall, stocky frame of U-Dub's number fifty-eight stopped in its tracks and his shoulders slumped. His large hands raised up, snapped off his helmet straps, and slowly removed his 'W'-emblom helmet. It rested against his hip by the time I reached him. I wasn't alone in my approach though and timed my steps to the clicked heels on his tall, thin, and very pissed off girlfriend Monique Currie as she stepped down from her first-row seat in the stands.
Monique was one of the Huskies' girlfriends who I'd never not known exactly how she felt about something and I completely respected her for that. Like his entire family, football was everything to Darrius. Monique was as supportive as anyone but one thing she'd never done was coddled him.
"Hi Miss Ellie." Darrius' soft brown eyes looked down sheepishly at me, then lifted upwards to his girlfriend. "Hey Boo."
"Don't you 'Hey Boo' me." Her dark brown eyes flashed from under her thick lashes while she stopped and jutted out one hip. "Confession time, Darrius."
My long, dark brown hair pitched over one shoulder as I cocked my head sideways and fisted my hands on my hips. "Did you follow your meal plan during the offseason?"
"No, Miss Ellie." His large chin dipped down to his even larger chest. My eyes definitely noticed the extra bulge over his football pants that we'd worked really hard last season and successfully removed. "Momma Williams -"
"Darrius! We talked about this!" One of my hands lifted and my index finger jabbed the airspace between us. With our height difference, there was a lot of empty space. Our exchange caught the attention of pretty much every guy who stomped by in pads and cleats but I ignored them.
"You promised me Darrius!" I pointed my finger further upwards at him. "Tell me at least that your mother did not mail you food during training camp."
"She did, Miss Ellie," his deep, baritone voice vibrated down on me with a hint of sheepishness that suggested Momma Williams was back to her daily tricks again.
Based on Monique's pursed lips and frown, I didn't have to ask but I did, "So I'll take it you didn't follow the nutrition plan we set up for the summer?"
"No, Miss Ellie," was his sorrowed response. "I was hoping -"
"Ahem," Monique coughed loudly.
"We were hoping," Darrius corrected with a lopsided grin. "That maybe you could reset my plan? I'll talk to Momma Williams."
Momma Williams ran a diner in Darrius' hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana. Despite Monique's urging, every two days, for the first six weeks of our freshmen year, Momma Williams mailed Darrius food packages. The only reason I'd gotten her to stop sending her lard and bacon grease-backboned foods was how I'd added up her shipping costs. I estimated that, if Darrius and Monique made their own and hopefully healthier meals, then Momma Williams saved enough money that she flew here and saw Darrius play four games in person.
"Give me your phone." I turned up my extended hand's palm. "I'll call her."
"Miss Ellie -" Darrius started when another 'Ahem' from Monique put a thrusted phone in my hand.
I scrolled down to 'Momma' in his contacts and dialed her number. After a few rings her sweet, Southern voice graced my ears, "Darrius baby! Why you callin' Momma while she's workin'? Did you not get today's food package?"
"Hi Momma Williams. This is Ellie Harrison," I said firmly and frowned up at Darrius. "Are you feeding him too much again? He looks chubby."
Her line was silent for a few seconds, then a guilty-toned, "Miss Ellie?" came through.
"Yes, Ma'am." While I spoke to her, I looked straight at Darrius. "Now, your son and I set up a very clear food plan to help him play football. It's really important that he eats healthy and stays in shape."
"I can't help it," she started quietly, her voice still full of guilt. "My baby loves -"
A soft sigh escaped me and I absently rubbed the pads of my free hand's fingers over my forehead. "Remember how much it costs, Momma Williams? You stop sending those and you can come see Darrius play in at least three games this season. Don't you want that?"
"I know, I know," she muttered like she admitted defeat.
At the twist of sympathy in my stomach, I looked up at Monique's interested eyes and offered, "Let's try this. Why don't you send some of Darrius' favorite recipes and we'll try to make them here? He gets free food money from the school."
"Oh Lord," she gasped like I'd suggested blasphemy which, in her cooking world, I probably had. "I can't do that, they're Darrius' great -"
"Hear me out," I used as soft a voice as I mustered. "Send the recipes to Darrius' phone only. We won't follow them, just change them enough that your secrets are safe. He has a password, remember?"
Silence greeted me for a full minute, where I just darted my eyes between Darrius' guilty expression and a clear 'I told you so' on Monique's.
"I... oh... I - shoot," Momma Williams finally responded, which prompted my wink at Monique. "Guess I could do that."
"I look forward to seeing you in person, Momma Williams," I assured her, said our goodbyes, then handed Darrius back his phone.
"Thank you, Ellie." Monique slid one arm across my shoulders, but her eye gaze and sharp tone were directed at her boyfriend.
"Thank you, Miss Ellie," Darrius mumbled sullenly but the big softie then gave me an appreciative smile. He knew this was for the best since he'd admitted to me last season how much better he felt and played when he ate healthier.
Most of the team passed by us while I'd been on the phone. Despite the worst shit-talk in the locker room about girls they either wanted to sleep with, planned to sleep with, or details after they'd slept with them, they were all laid back with me. While I'd tutored a few of them and done a few others' meal plans, none of us hung out socially. If push came to shove though, I definitely felt like some of them were big brothers I hadn't known I needed in my life.
Besides, they're not hurting for female attention. Quite the opposite.
Some of the guys, like Darrius and Wes, were in serious relationships that would've resulted in their asses handed to them if they even looked at another girl, but the rest were total players. Not that they had to work hard; girls usually hung outside the locker room after practices and games. I wanted nothing to do with the guys like that, or worse create an awkward work environment for Charlie, so I happily settled for the odd enjoyment I got when I shut down their blimp-sized egos.
Emmitt Verns, a senior and starting quarterback, was by far the worst. With his chiseled good looks, near-black hair, warm brown eyes, dimples in both his angular cheeks when he smirked, and a constant five o'clock shadow, Emmitt was rarely without a girl in his mind, on his arm, or in his bed. The boy was handsome and talented enough to keep the Huskies in contention for the PAC-12 title, but unfortunately was well aware of both qualities and his ego was as big as Huskies Stadium.
Definitely my favorite one to shut down the cockiness from... still glad he's not my roommate.
At the sound of more staccato cleat clicks against the cement walkway, Wes' brown eyes sparkled and he grinned with his mouth guard half out of his mouth while he passed us. A few of the other guys I knew, Kade and Reese, grunted their greetings while Emmitt tried his best panty-dropping smirk that only turned my stomach... and not in a good way.
Right behind Emmitt's shoulder pad flashed a set of ocean-blue eyes that caught my attention. My breath hitched while my eyes drank in the first sight of Logan in his Huskies' uniform. Like all the other offensive guys in their away version today, his gold football pants perfectly clung to his muscular thighs. His dark purple uniform darkened a shade in the tunnel, but the bright, white number ten over his chest stood out.
"Hey Ellie," his deep voice greeted me. He paused for a moment, then the corners of his mouth curled up into a devastatingly sexy smirk.
"Hey," I pushed out the word full of breath. Even Monique tensed slightly next to me under the intensity of Logan's gaze, but Darrius clenched both his fists and his jaw tight.
Uh-oh.