My Freshman Year: Day 17

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Days as a Freshman: 17

Current Mood: Tired

“So she just said she was a lesbian? Right there?” Crystal sliced a piece of tofu up and shoved it into her mouth. “Stacey must have flipped her shit.”

“I’ve never seen her that silent for that long.” I tried to keep my eyes off the white, shimmying blobs on Crystal’s plate and took a bite of my own dinner. Crystal was fantastic, but her vegan diet was often cringe-worthy.

One of the first friends I had made at school besides my roommates, Crystal and I met in Statistics when she leaned over and asked if I had a calculator. I told her no, and that I hadn’t understood a damn thing the teacher had said for the last hour.

She vigorously agreed, asked me if I wanted a piece of gum, and a friendship was born.

“Have you seen that kid around anywhere?” Brushing a piece of her stick-straight blond hair out of her face, Crystal eyed the dining hall. “Sam…or whatever?”

“Sasha. And…no.” Maybe it was her hippy, tree-hugging ways. Maybe it was her friendly smile. Maybe I just really needed to tell someone, but whatever the reason, Crystal was the first person I had confided in about Sasha.

“Jonathan plays intramural soccer. I should ask him about Sasha.”

“Crystal! Horrible idea!” I almost choked on my sandwich thinking about Crystal’s boyfriend interviewing his friends about my crush. “Don’t tell Jon anything. Swear. Promise you won’t?”

“Tell me what?”

Falling heavily onto the bench next to Crystal, Jonathan kissed her on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her, virtually engulfing her shoulders. Jon was a big guy; tall, stocky, hairy, about as Mountain Man as you can get. He and Crystal were sophomores and had been dating since the first week of freshmen year.

We should all be so lucky.

“Nothing, honey,” Crystal smiled at me before feeding her boyfriend a dripping piece of tofu. “Grace was just telling me about a crush she has.”

It wasn’t just the tofu that was making me feel uncomfortable now. Watching Crystal and Jon happily feed each other and kiss in between bites made me feel like a big, awkward, third wheel. Couples were forming across campus faster than red plastic cups up to a keg, and each time I saw another duo walking hand-in-hand across the quad, I was reminded of how long I had been single.

The length was biblical.

“Well guys, I’ve got to go read like 50 history chapters, so I should probably get going—” Pulling my bag close to me, I attempted to stand up. But stopped suddenly.

Sasha was in the dining room. And heading straight for our table.

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