My Freshman Year: Day 58

Days as a Freshman: 58

Mood: totally freaking out

“So how do you combine these two molecules again?”

Sasha looked up, his adorable forehead knotted in frustration. I knew the answer, but something about his eyes catching mine stopped the flow of language to my mouth.

“It’s simple. You should have it in your notes. Here.” Grabbing Sasha’s notepad, Daniel Breely began to flick his pen across the page, shaking his puffy-haired head and mumbling under his breath.

I met Daniel B. (he insists everyone ad the “B”) during orientation, and quickly realized he would be a good ally to have. He’s one of those tall, skinny guys who wear pocket protectors with pride and he actually eats lunch at a table marked with handmade signs proclaiming “Caution, Geeks” and “Dorks Do it Better” in red marker. He’s got a reputation on campus as being the most genuine nerd alive.

He also helps people study for tests for $10 an hour.

Hiring Daniel B. to help Sasha and I with our Chem midterm was my idea. Needing some way to calm my anxiety about the whole Soccer House scandal, I decided having the most mind-numbingly flat personality in the world sit between Sasha and I would ease the tension.

Nothing but work would be talked about while Daniel B. was around. It was written in his “freelance tutor” contract.

“Hey, Grace?” Breaking my concentration on Daniel B’s tower of hair, Sasha leaned over, “What are you doing after this?”

My throat closed up. It was an instant sort of thing; one minute I was breathing and swallowing like normal, the next minute I was almost choking on my own tongue. What was I doing after this? No idea. Hearing my name come out of Sasha’s mouth had temporarily forced me into some kind of frozen shock.

“I needed to ask you something…” Sasha continue talking, obviously blind to my state of intense panic. “Want to grab a tea or something? I know it’s late, but—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” I managed to cough, the words falling out in such a rushed, tumbling way that even Daniel B. looked up at me strangely. “I never get to bed before like one or two anyway.”

“Cool.” Leaning back, Sasha smiled, and I thought I saw a glimmer of something disappear from his face. Nerves? Had he actually been nervous to talk to me?

“Um. So. You want the answer to your question or what?” Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, Daniel B. looked from Sasha to me with a slight grimace on his face, seemingly disturbed at the amount of non-work related chatter.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Flicking his eyes towards me once more, Sasha bent down to focus his attention on his now completely covered piece of paper.

I tried to do the same thing, but the numbers of my notes kept jumping around. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get them to mean anything. My brain only understood one thing.

Sasha had asked me to hang out. Alone.

Tila Tequila Tackles Trash TV
Tila Tequila Tackles Trash TV
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