Days as a Freshman: 83
Mood: Totally unable to concentrate

The November wind pushed itself under my scarf, biting at the skin on my neck. I pulled my jacket collar up as high as it would go, wishing I had worn a heavier sweater.

Coming from Maine, you’d think I’d be better prepared each time winter touched down, but every year it caught me off guard, snaking through my window and startling me with it’s freezing nights and frozen mornings. Some people were built to appreciate winter. I was not one of those people.

Crashing through piles of leaves, I made my way through the quad, the campus still asleep at 10 AM on a Saturday. Part of me wished I was still asleep. Still warm under my comforter instead of rushing with wet hair toward the Soccer House, a place I had no desire to even look at, let alone spend hours studying in.

Sasha had asked me to come over that night at the coffee house, pleading with me to help him with the chemistry problems he had missed going over with Daniel B. My initial reaction had been to make up an excuse; to come up with anything to keep me away from sitting alone in the Soccer House with Sasha, but standing in front of him, feeling his gaze and the extra pressure of his tall, silent friend, I ended up smiling and saying sure. Sure I’ll help. Sure I’ll do whatever you ask. I’m Grace, the pushover loser.

The soccer house came into view as the main campus disappeared. Set on the far corner of campus, covered by a bunch of pine trees, the two story house sat dark against the dead lawn, an occasional beer can lying in the grass or up against a porch railing. The broken grill and dilapidated tarp hanging off the roof signaled occupants who didn’t really care about decorating.

My heart started to sink as I walked up to the front door. I really didn’t want to be here.

I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened before my fist even made contact with wood. Sasha stood on the other side, his hair sticking up and his face unshaven. The sweatpants and sweatshirt he was wearing looked as though he had found them stuffed underneath his bed.

“I just woke up,” he said, smiling and opening the door wide enough for me to walk through. “I mean, like ten minutes ago. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“No…it’s fine.” Sure it’s fine. Everything is fine with Grace. “I get up early on weekends anyway.” Big giant lie. I did not get up early on weekends. I got up early during the week, but on the weekends, I slept in.

“Really? I don’t know how you do that. I’m definitely not a morning person.” Leading the way down the dark, quiet hallway, Sasha walked into a spacious living room connected to an equally spacious kitchen. Besides a few pairs of shoes, old dishes, and a some random papers, the place was surprisingly clean. Well, clean might be an overstatement…but it wasn’t as dirty as I had been expecting.

“I should have spruced up a little, I’m sorry.” Fluffing a few sad pillows on the old couch, Sasha sat down and pulled the coffee table out far enough to let me sit down next to him. The old wood floors and high ceilings of the house reminded me of home, and as I sat down on the worn cushions, I started to realize why so many groups clamored for the off campus houses. They were nice. And big. And private.

“Everyone else still asleep?” I pulled my bag up next to me and began to dig through it.

“Either that or totally passed out.” Sasha leaned back against the cushions. “Serious rager here last night.”

“You must be exhausted then.” I watched him run his hands through his hair, trying to calm it down but succeeding in only making it more adorably messed up.

“Naw. I didn’t go.” He rubbed his eyes. “Got this stupid paper. I’ve been working on it all week.”

“For what class?”

“Stupid English Comp. For losers like me who can’t write good.” He smiled and turned to face me.

I smiled back, suddenly realizing how close we were. At least I had bothered to put on some make-up this morning. Not that I had thought… Well, I don’t know what I had thought. Weeks ago I would have been blind with love sitting this close to Sasha. Now I was just blind with confusion.

“Your eyes are a really pretty color.” He leaned a little closer. “Hazel? Green? They look really nice in this light.”

“Thanks…” My voice got stuck and I felt the intense need to blink. I guess I wasn’t that blind with confusion. Sasha’s smile could still throw me.

“Yo, what up Campbell?”

Clunking into the living room, a tall guy clad in pajama pants and not much else made a beeline for the open kitchen. I recognized him from the coffee house, although it took a minute to place him without that popped collar.

“Stevens. Grace is here.”

“Yo.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Stevens waved, doing his best to smile through what was clearly a hangover haze.

“Hey.” Between Sasha’s smile two inches away from me, and this kid’s shirtless chest, I had nowhere to look.

Concentrating was going to be hard. Hard in the best way possible.

Maybe spending a few hours here wasn’t going to be as bad as I had thought.