Staring at Sabrina's number in my phone feels like holding a live grenade with the pin half-pulled. After lunch, we went our separate ways with that awkward "see you around" dance that could either an "Let's hang out tomorrow" or "Goodbye forever, random cafeteria person." I'm not great at deciphering these social cues.
We did exchange numbers, which is objectively a win, but now what? I've literally never texted a girl unless it was about so group project where I was desperately trying to sound professional while secretly hoping they didn't think I was a complete loser. What am I supposed to say? "Hey, it's that awkward guy from lunch who rambled about Doctor Who and has mommy issues you definitely don't know about"?
Despite how refreshingly weird Sabrina was, or maybe because of it, this feels like scaling Everest without oxygen. I keep typing and deleting the sa "Hey, it's Gabe" ssage over and over like a fucking lunatic.
"Yo, Earth to new guy! You with us?"
I snap my head up to find twenty pairs of eyes on in this stuffy classroom where they've herded us freshn for so mandatory "community building exercise." Kill now.
"Sorry, yeah," I mutter, shoving my phone into my pocket before the orientation leader, so aggressively cheerful junior with too many teeth in her smile, can confiscate it.
"As I was saying," Teeth continues, "partner up with soone you haven't t yet and share three interesting facts about yourself!"
The room erupts into that special kind of chaos where everyone's desperately scanning for soone who doesn't look like a complete psychopath to pair with. I'm still frozen in place when a guy built like a linebacker slides into the desk next to mine.
"Sup, bro? Wanna team up?" He extends a aty hand. "I'm Brad."
Brad is exactly what you'd get if you typed "college bro" into an AI image generator. Backwards baseball cap over dirty blonde hair, a muscle shirt that's doing overti containing his biceps, and a smile that says he's probably chugged beer from a shoe at least once in his life.
"Gabe," I reply, shaking his hand and imdiately regretting it when he nearly crushes my fingers.
"So, three things about ," Brad says, leaning back in his chair with the easy confidence of soone who's never had an anxious thought in his life. "First off, I just broke up with my girlfriend last month. She was super into being vegan and basically forced to try it too." He chuckles, flexing his bicep unconsciously. "I was terrible at it, man. Kept sneaking cheeseburgers when she wasn't looking. When we split, first thing I did was hit up Five Guys."
I nod, not sure what to say. The concept of having a girlfriend, let alone one who dictates my diet, feels like science fiction.
"Second," Brad continues, counting on his fingers, "my all-ti favorite movie is Top Gun: Maverick. Cinematic perfection, bro."
"It was pretty good," I agree, thinking of how Mom and I watched it on streaming a few months back. She'd comnted on how handso Tom Cruise still was, and I'd spent the rest of the movie trying not to think about it.
"And third," Brad says, lowering his voice like he's sharing classified information, "I recently got back into Magic: The Gathering. My roommate had so cards, and it kind of rekindled my middle school obsession."
My eyes widen. "Wait, you play Magic?" I say, suddenly feeling less like I'm talking to a different species.
Brad's face lights up. "Hell yeah, bro! Got a green stompy deck that's been crushing it lately."
"No way! I play, too!" I can't hide my excitent. "I've got this blue-black control deck I've been tweaking since high school."
Brad's expression suddenly shifts to panic. "Shit, dude, we're supposed to be telling facts about each other, not ourselves. Your turn, what are three things about ?"
"Oh, right." I scramble to think. "Uh, first thing about is... I also play Magic the Gathering."
Brad laughs, a booming sound that draws glances from nearby groups. "That's one way to do it. What's your second fact?"
I feel sothing in my chest loosen as Brad waits for my next fact. Maybe this won't be so painful after all.
"Second thing," I say, running a hand through my hair, "I'm pretty much addicted to pizza. Like, I could probably eat it every day and never get tired of it. Pepperoni, mushroom, whatever."
Brad nods enthusiastically like I've just dropped so profound philosophical wisdom instead of admitting I like the most basic food on the planet. "Dude, sa! Pizza is life! You try that place down on Mill Street yet? Orono House of Pizza? Their buffalo chicken pizza will change your life."
His genuine excitent over sothing so simple makes smile. I wrack my brain for a third fact that doesn't involve my mother or my social anxiety.
"And third, uh..." I glance at the window air conditioning unit rattling away in the corner of the classroom. "I absolutely love air conditioning. Like, unreasonably so. I'd probably marry my AC unit if that was legal."
Brad bursts out laughing far harder than he should, slapping his knee with enough force to make the desk shake. "You're funny as hell, dude! I wasn't expecting that. Low key a legend in the making man."
"Thanks," I say, feeling my face heat up despite the blessed cool air. I'm not used to people finding funny on purpose.
Brad leans in, his massive shoulder almost touching mine as the classroom starts to empty around us. "Yo, Gabe, what're you doing after this?"
I blink, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, nothing really. Just heading back to my house, I guess."
"Dude, no way." He shakes his head like I've just suggested jumping off a bridge. "Listen, we're having this kickback at my place tonight. Nothing crazy, just so of the brothers and cool people." His eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. "You should totally co. You've got this weird vibe that I dig, man. Like, you're different from most of the freshn I've t today."
My brain short-circuits. Is this actually happening? The human equivalent of a Golden Retriever wants at his party? , the guy who spent most of high school eating lunch alone in the library?
"I..." I start, my mouth suddenly dry.
This is it, isn't it? The exact mont I've been waiting for. New school, new people, new Gabe. I could stay in my room tonight, overthinking that text to Sabrina while binging sothing on Netflix, or I could actually step into this new life I keep saying I want.
"Yeah," I hear myself say before I can chicken out. "Yeah, that sounds cool. I can go."
Brad's face splits into a grin so wide it's almost alarming. His hand clamps down on my shoulder with enough force to make my knees buckle slightly.
"Hell yeah, dude!" he booms, giving a shake that rattles my entire nervous system. "That's what I'm talking about! Here," He pulls out his phone, opening up his contacts. "Put your number in. I'll text you the address. We usually get things going around nine."
I fumble with his phone, nearly dropping it twice before managing to input my information. My fingers feel numb like they belong to soone else.
"Sweet," Brad says, taking his phone back and imdiately sending a text that's just a beer emoji. "It's nothing fancy, just bring whatever you want to drink. We've got so communal stuff too."
"Cool, cool," I nod, trying to look like this is totally normal for and not a seismic event in my social developnt.
Brad's eyes light up suddenly, like he just rembered sothing crucial. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial level that makes feel like we're scheming sothing.
"Oh, and just so you know," he says with a nudge that nearly knocks sideways, "there's definitely gonna be so cute girls there. My buddy Jake's bringing his study group, all nursing majors. If you want to introduce you to anyone, just give the signal. I'm a fucking legendary wingman, bro. Seriously, it's like my superpower."
"For sure, man," I manage to say, trying to sound casual while my brain short-circuits at the thought. "That'd be cool."
"That's what I'm talking about!" Brad claps on the back again with enough force to make my teeth rattle. "First night of college, and we're already on the prowl! This is gonna be epic!"
It seems tonight will be a trial by fire.
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