Spring-cleaning has come early this
year. It felt so liberating to take down all the pictures, delete all the
emails, and erase Jared’s contact information from my phone. However, there are
still the contents of my “memento box” to deal with. Much more personal than
photographs and text messages, this is a box that contains artifacts from every
person who has ever meant something special to me: birthday and Christmas cards
from Tess, the collar that belonged to my first pet, even the ticket stub from
the movie I saw with my first boyfriend back in ninth grade.
The majority of the contents in this box actually aren’t from Jared, but
there are enough birthday cards and pictures of him to keep me away for now. I
don’t trust myself to throw those things away without reliving the way I felt
when I first received them. Doing so would crush me all over again, even though
he’s been nothing like the person who sent them for a long, long time.
After another tiring day of class, I come back to the dorm with the
intent of going to bed early. My plans are thwarted by an unexpected
distraction: Collin is in the lounge, talking to a guy who lives down the hall.
To say I’m shocked is quite an understatement. I wait in the stairwell for a
few minutes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving any time soon. There is no
choice but to walk briskly past him, and pray I’m not recognized.
Just when I think I sneaked by unnoticed, I hear him call out “Hey, AK-47!
What are you doing here?”
I grit my teeth and stiffly reply, “I live here.”
“Oh yeah? Well I live here too, three floors up! I was just visiting my
buddy Eric here.”
The guy I presume to be Eric stands up, informing Collin he’s stepping
outside for a smoke. How convenient. Once he leaves, it’s just the two of us
alone in the lounge. I can’t explain how or why, but I think I’m starting to
smell trouble.
“Nice pin” Collin tells me, pointing to the mockingjay on my bag. “Big Hunger Games fan, huh? That’s cute.”
I’m about to defend my strong devotion to the series, but decide against
it at the last second. Now that we are out of the cold, he’s wearing a
short-sleeved T-shirt. “Says the guy with Lion
King characters tattooed on his arm,” I retort.
“Well I’ll have you know that Lion
King was the last movie I got to watch with my grandpa before he died.
Mufasa reminds me of him.”
Holy crap. “I…wow, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry –”
“Psyche! My grandpa is still
alive. I just wanted to see your reaction.”
“You’re an ass-hat.”
“Aww, come on now. Can you at least admit I’m a cute ass-hat?”
“Well,” I stumble. “I guess, since you said my pin was cute…”
Wait wait wait – am I flirting
with this guy? Someone I only met two days ago? And is he flirting with me? What
am I doing?
It’s quite shameless, open flirting. There is no way to deny otherwise.
I am completely without excuse, other than having my heart blasted to
smithereens by the man I loved for the last four years, rendering me
temporarily senseless. I’m not the sort of girl who goes looking for rebounds, but
I can’t stop myself from feeling oddly flattered by Collin’s unexpected
attention. Dangerously, dangerously flattered.
Having stood up and moved closer to me during this exchange, I realize
Collin is close enough to kiss me. Something in his manner tells me if I were
to look up at him the right way, it could happen. If I were truly calculating
and shameless, I could play this so we end up not only making out, but going
back to his room or mine, for God knows what.
With a clearer mind now than when we first met, I notice he is
attractive, in a nerdy sort of way. The giant Mufasa tattoo on his bicep is
kind of a turn-off, simply because it’s too big for my taste; the thought of
what that will look like in twenty years makes me cringe. This banter has been amusing,
but something in my gut is telling me Collin is more of a charmer than a
serious dater. I don’t need any charmers right now.
Clearing my throat, I tell him “We should go to bed.” His eyes widen,
and I instantly realize my idiot mistake. “Go to bed separately,” I clarify. “It’s almost ten o’clock.” Good grief,
could I sound dumber if I tried?
“Right, right,” he replies, laughing. Honestly, I don’t get the
impression that he would have objected if I meant what I’d originally said.
Reaching out with both hands, he holds my arms like he’s about to pull
me toward him. My breath quickens, and I keep my gaze focused on the floor so
there’s no temptation to kiss him. Before I can say anything else, he folds me
into a quick hug that almost turns me
to Jello. He breaks away just as quickly with an abrupt “Goodnight!” and
disappears down the hall, toward the elevator. I do the same, to my end of the hall, not allowing myself
to think too deeply on what just happened, or could have happened.
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