It’s not that college kids are mean. People in my classes are nice enough to me. They smile, say hey, but that’s where it starts and ends. I don’t know how to take that to the next level, to turn it into something meaningful.
Is it me? It has to be me, right? Quieter than most of them, a little odd and stand-offish. My pink hair essentially makes me a walking juxtaposition. I’m not shy—I can talk to people. I just can’t set down this ball of anxiety pressing on my chest for long enough to actually approach someone.
Never had that one best friend, you know? Always on the fringes of a few friendship circles but couldn’t ever figure out how to break into something more. Totally thought that when I got to college, I’d find another awkward, mildly anxious introvert to adopt me and become friends with.
If it’s so hard for me to make friends, it stands to reason that it’d take time for my quirky alter-ego to find me too, right? Okay, I’ve got to reevaluate my expectations. Whoever is going to adopt me has to be at least an ambivert, or slightly extroverted, because two introverts would happily sit side by side and never make eye contact or talk with each other. I need to find an extrovert to adopt me.
Where’s the sign-up sheet for that on the cork boards around the school?
With a sigh, I pull out my notes from my chem class. As much as I appreciate having a “lighter” workload my first year, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into all the good “helping people” stuff waiting for me in my second and third years.
The chair across from me squeaks as it’s pulled back from the table. Looking up, the bright green eyes of someone I don’t recognize meet mine, and my anxiety dials up to an eleven. Oh, God. She’s sitting. Doesn’t she realize she doesn’t know me?
Her face lights up with a warm smile as she sits, and she blows at the red hair that falls over her face. She’s a natural red but not orangey ginger, or even copper; it’s darker, richer, and shiny. Really freakin’ shiny. Her hair falls in long waves that probably reach halfway down her back.
I barely resist the urge to tug on my own hair. Before the accident I had long hair too, but it’s easier to hide my scars if it hangs above my shoulders. I have hair envy over everyone with longer locks than me.
She’s looking right at me, so she must know she’s at the wrong table, and yet, she hasn’t moved. It’s my own personal nightmare playing out right in front of me. How is she staying so calm? I have secondhand embarrassmentforher. Like my stomach is churning, and my palms are starting to sweat.
Is she going to sit here awkwardly for a few minutes before getting up and going to the table she wassupposedto sit at?
“Hi, I’m Victoria.” Instead of fleeing, she sticks out her hand across the books spread over the table. “Or Tori. I’ve seen you come in here almost every day that I do, and I figure since we’re both here a lot, and we’re both studying alone, we may as well study alone together, right?” Her smile is hopeful, and for a fraction of a second, a flicker of vulnerability passes as quickly as it came.
For an almost imperceptible beat, I’m jealous of this woman all the way to my core. Not only for her glorious auburn hair that I’ve been lusting over, but for being able to talk to a stranger in the middle of a coffee shop.
Then, the relief that someone has actually struck up a conversation with me hits, and my muscles relax a little.
Her warm smile is still in place, and her hand remains extended as she eyes me patiently. “If you’d rather I take myself back to a table by myself, I can do that too.” She glances over her shoulder like she’s checking that her table is available.
I cautiously accept her hand and shake. “I’m Eloise.”
Her face was lit up before, but once I introduce myself, her smile grows, and I swear to God, warmth spills out of her entire being. “Let me guess, introvert, right?”
I nod. Was I muttering out loud about my introverted self needing to be adopted by an extrovert? Or is she really that good?
“How’d you guess?”
She nods back with an airy giggle. “I thought so. Don’t worry, I’m not some weird energy vampire or anything, and I’m not going to talk and talk and talk at you when you’re trying to study—ugh, isn’t that so annoying? But I wanted to say hi and get the ball rolling by telling you I’m your new best friend.”
What the heck is happening right now? Did I sign up to an adopt-an-introvert program in a fever dream? Or did this chick literally read my mind and decide to take the opportunity to present herself to me?
She starts pulling books out of her Army-green book bag and taking up the little space I’ve left on her side of the table. Her smile stays in place, and even though I don’t know anything about this woman other than her name, that she’s a student, and the fact she’s very obviously the most outgoing person I’ve ever met, it doesn’t feel awkward.
I mean, announcing herself as my new best friend is a bit presumptuous, but no other candidates have made themselves known at this point in time, so she could be right.
I’m still staring at her by the time she crams a pen between her teeth and gnaws on the end as she flicks through a notebook. I’m curious about her. I want to ask her questions and figure out why the heck she chose to plop herself down at my table. But she’s jumped straight into studying and is giving me space like she said she would, and I’d never interrupt someone when they’re working, so I turn my attention back to chemistry.
After about twenty minutes she picks up my mug and examines the contents. “You’re empty. You want a drink or something?” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to get something. Full disclosure: possibly more than one something. Spoiler alert:definitelymore than one something. Have you tried their hot chocolate? It’s orgasmic.”
Yeah, okay. She might have been right about the new best friend thing. “I love their hot chocolate. I’ve already had one though, I should switch to tea.”
She purses her lips and leans toward me. “You only live once. Have the second hot chocolate if you want it.” She pats her tummy. “This chunky girl doesn’t judge.”
I can’t help but smile. Something genuine emanates from her, something easy, something that leads me to feel as though I’ve known her for more than the last twenty-five minutes.
I really do want more hot chocolate. Heck, if they offered a gallon sized mug of the stuff I’m still not sure it’d be enough for me. I roll my lips between my teeth and nod like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. “Okay. I’ll take another.”
“Something you’re going to learn pretty quickly about me, Eloise, is that I’m an enabler.” She drops her voice. “So, if you ever need to be talked into something, I’m your gal.” She grabs her wallet from her bag and heads up to the counter to order before I can offer her money for my drink.
