in order to nurse my headache induced by my hangover, i decided to grab coffee from a shop about a half mile away from the house. my mom once described it as being quaint but i just thought it was a nice place to get cheap coffee that tasted pretty good. thankfully, the shop looked empty, except for a light blue volkswagen beetle parked nearby on the street.
i walked in and waved at the sole barista working today and began looking at the menu. i decided on a medium iced coffee with one cream and one sugar and gave my order to the barista, who began making my order quickly. i gave him five dollars, let him keep the change and i turned around to find a seat.
the angry geed girl was there, sipping an iced coffee and lightly tracing her pencil in her sketchbook while sitting alone in a booth. how fucking stereotypical. i walked towards her, taking a sip of my coffee while waiting for her to look up.
"do you need some help with that?" i asked, causing her to look up at me. her eyes were still as fierce as they were about an hour ago, but they were a friendly fierce now, almost as if she had a playful dare to offer me.
"no, i'm good, frat boy," she finally replied. i sat in the booth facing parallel to her and placed my coffee closer to me so there was no chance of the condensation ruining her sketches.
"god, when you say that, it's almost like a slur. frat boy," i retorted with an emphasis, causing her to crack a small smile.
"well, if i can call you frat boy, you can call me geed."
"i'd rather call you by your name, actually."
"fine. you can call me lara, lara holland, lara katherine holland or lara kate if you wanna get snazzy with it," she joked, taking another sip of her iced coffee. i grinned at her and mirrored her sipping.
"well, you can call me frat boy, or paul. paul joseph francis," i said, returning the sass she gave me.
"paul joseph francis. what a name. god, you sound like my future senator."
"i'm a political science minor, actually. my true passion lies in biochemistry."
"wow, you're gonna be my future senator, aren't you? i'll vote for you as long as you don't run as a republican."
"don't worry, i'm a blue dog democrat, baby," i joked, making her crack another smile and letting out a small laugh.
i don't think of myself as being a flirt. i enjoy banter and i will exercise my right to banter with anyone: pretty girls at coffee shops, nervous freshman guys at ifc recruitment events, cute milfs in clothing stores. however, bantering with lara felt easier than usual, despite the fact she probably had a bias towards me. i didn't care enough to remove the bias from her mind. i just wanted to talk to her.
"so, you're on the cross country team, right?" asked lara. i looked down at my t-shirt for confirmation.
"yeah. we placed third in state last semester." bragging a little never hurt anyone, right?
"that's pretty good. you have great legs," said lara. i tried to stifle my laugh as she covered her face with her hands.
"i mean, i know you have great legs because you run a lot."
"you were checking my legs out, weren't you?"
"no, i'm just making, like an assumption. you should know about the power of hypothesis or whatever, biochemistry boy."
"so art girl, what's your thing?" i questioned, trying to coax more details about herself out of her.
"art and singing sometimes. i make music in my dorm if i'm not sketching."
lara's hobbies very obviously reflected in the way she looked and dressed. there was something artful about the way she looked: put together but purposefully messy. i liked the way her hair framed her face and fell past her shoulders perfectly. i liked the way her face was somewhat round and had a natural blush to it. and i loved the way she focused intently on drawing in her notebook while still exchanging proper one-liners with me.
"i would love to see that sketch whenever you're finished with it." the beginnings of the sketch were looking pretty good.
"you should come to the art show next friday then. it starts at 5 and ends at 7."
"i have an idea. how about i come to your showcase and you come to a party at the house with me. i can change your opinion on frat boys," i offered. i took a long sip from the straw of my coffee while lara scrunched her nose, deep in thought.
"you're trying to take me out of my element, aren't you?"
"hey, art isn't my element. partying isn't your element. i'll come to yours if you come to mine," i negotiated.
"i need another sketch. i'll come to your fraternity party if you let me draw your portrait for the show too," she replied emphatically.
"is there something about my face that makes you want to draw it?"
"i figured i could put up the picture of your frat house and then your face to, you know, show how you kinda represent your frat. the face of it, you know?" lara took another sip of her almost empty coffee and looked down at her sketchbook before looking up at me. i pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it and gave it to her.
"can i have your number? it would be great to keep in contact."
she nodded in agreement and began typing her information into my contacts. my iced coffee was mostly water at this point so i got up from the booth, grabbed my cup and motioned for her to give me her cup as well. i threw them away and watched as lara began getting ready to leave.
"do you live on campus or in your frat house?" lara slipped her sketchbook into her shoulder bag and pulled her car keys out, before putting the bag on her shoulder.
"i still live on campus since i'm a sophomore. how 'bout you?" by this point, i opened the door for her and she began walking to her car: the sole volkswagen beetle, as she unlocked her doors.
"i'm a junior. i live in a rented house around uptown with a group of my friends. i can give you a lift back to campus if you want."
i got into her car and wondered if it was a bad idea. could she be a serial killer? would it really be that bad to walk the mile and a half back to campus if it meant i didn't get murdered by a really pretty art major?
"so, you're not gonna kill me right?" i questioned, as she started her car and began looking in her rear view to see if she could back out.
"i'm not that bad of a driver. i've only been in four accidents since i moved here."
"where are you from? wait, you've been in four accidents in three years?"
"i'm from atlanta, how about you?" the car was now moving slowly in reverse until she shifted gears to drive and slowly sped up.
"i'm from baton rouge. but that doesn't answer my other question."
"if it gives you any peace of mind, only one was my fault. and this is only my second car since i started driving," she reassured. we quickly reached the front of our campus and i quickly unbuckled myself from her possible death trap. as i got out of her car and began walking towards my dorm, she rolled down her passenger window.
"remember to text me!" she shouted. i turned back and waved, nodding at her.
i was in the elevator, waiting to get to the sixth floor when i pulled out my phone and shot her a quick text.
me: hope u didn't get into any fender benders
lara holland: haha i'm back at my place in one piece
lara holland: did you make it to ur room yet?
me: boutta to get off the elevator now. u doing anything tonight?
lara holland: i have to finish the sketch of ur house tonight so everything can be ready for the show
lara holland: sorry 😔
me: it's cool. can u meet me on campus tomorrow or maybe monday? you can sketch my face then
lara holland: totally. can't wait!
i arrived at my dorm and opened the door, only to find spencer and sam sitting closely on spencer's bed, fully clothed. as i walked in, sam scooted away from spencer and ran a hand through his closely cropped brown hair.
"hey paul, wassup?" greeted spencer. sam waved shyly at me as i sat on my bed and took off my sandals.
"not much. how are you, sam?"
"uh, i'm-i'm good." he had his legs crossed, trying to take up as little space as possible, juxtaposing spencer's position, which was manspreading at its finest.
"you guys wanna smoke tonight? i can call j.d. to bring us some kush or something," suggested spencer, looking first at sam then at me.
john david "j.d." broussard is easily the most prolific drug dealer and user in our theta xi chapter's history, and possibly in the top ten for our college. he smoked weed everyday, dabbled in coke, molly and ecstasy every few weeks and popped more pills than a nfl player with a busted knee. however, j.d. was an odd character. other than being known for his drug habit, he was also infamous for his wacky clothing choices, his wild behavior at our events and being the son of one of the wealthiest men in the gulf south. despite this, he always looked like he bought his clothes from kurt cobain's auctions and typically sported an unshaven face and uncut, shaggy hair.
"i'm down for it," responded sam, meekly.
"yeah, let's do it," i added.
"fuck yeah," said spencer, pulling out his phone to text j.d.