Perfect Summer (7 page)

It
was what I had always wanted since our first kiss. He had become the pirate to
my princess, who was going to defy all odds for us to be together. I should
have been happy. I should have been satisfied, but deep down inside, why did I
still have my doubts he would become the knight who swept me off my feet to a
land of happily ever after?

Chapter
6

M
y first week of college started off with a
bang. Because I was starting school in the last semester of college, rather
than the first like most freshmen, I had to adjust quickly to a new school, new
schedule, and college life. Winter break was done, and everyone had gone back
to school. Rachel had left a couple of days ago, while Nat had returned to San
Francisco just a day ago.

Entering
college was a whole new world for me, which was both exciting, yet scary. Being
a new girl without a single classmate from the same school as mine, meaning no
friends, being a new recruit on the college volleyball team, and just joining
in during the middle of the school year left me floundering and grasping to
catch up.

My
first days were spent getting lost, trying to find study groups to join, and
frantically trying to catch up on assignments many students who had taken a
prior class last semester had already had a head start completing before the
Winter Break. I only had four classes for the semester, but it felt like five
since one of them, my English Literature and Drama one, had a separate class or
lab, as it was called, that met once a week. With Aunt Sookie’s Academy starting
a Spring program, college, and me fumbling around with my good arm in a cast, I
was literally feeling handicapped and overwhelmed.

The
assignments were a lot more work than the one in high school, and I had
underestimated the amount of time I needed to complete them, causing me to
spend the first few days studying far into the night and getting very little
sleep.

By
the end of the week, I was exhausted, but more confident about college, as I
head over to the last class of the week, English Literature and Drama, which
was held in a room the size of an auditorium. With no assigned seats, I headed
for the back of the auditorium where there were a few seats left and sat next
to a girl with dark shoulder-length hair and brown eyes, wearing a red USC
sweatshirt and jeans. As soon as I sat down, she handed me a sheet of paper.

“Thanks,”
I said, looking at it. It was a blank piece of paper with names and phone
numbers on there. “Um, what is this for?”

The
girl blew a bubble with her chewing gum, and said, “It’s the sign-up sheet for
the lab. It’s like another class, only smaller where we get into groups to read
and discuss the books that we’re reading in class.”

“A
reading group?” I asked.

“Mostly
a study group, but if you like what we’re reading, yeah, kinda like a reading
club, only we go over some discussion questions that we think will be on the
exams.”

“Why
is this a class?” I asked. “Do you get credit for this?”

“No
credit,” the girl said, “but it’s popular because most of the time, whatever
the group studies and discuss in the group, is found on the exams.”

“So
it’s a way for us to find a study group to belong to,” I said.

“Yes,”
the girl said. “Believe me, you would want to be in this group. Professor
Standish’s exams are ridiculously hard. Many college careers and dreams of
getting a high grade point average in college were derailed by a poor grade
from this class.”

“Oh,”
I said, hastily adding my name and number to the list. “Thank you for telling
me all this…”

“Trish,”
the girl said, extending her hand. “My brother took this class, and to this
day, he swore it was the toughest class he’s ever had.”

“Literature
and Drama?” I asked. “How can that be so tough?”

Trish’s
eyes opened wide. “Glad you’re pretty confident about that, um…”

“Summer,”
I said.

“Summer,”
Trish said. “Professor Standish teaches this class like it’s a doctoral program
instead of an undergraduate class. He’s one of the leading authorities on
classical plays. Many of the things taught here aren’t even known yet, and
Standish is about to publish an anthology of classical critiques analyzing the
role of plays on society throughout civilizations.”

“Okay,”
I said. “You’ve got me convinced to take good notes.”

“And
never fall asleep in class. This is a big class, and you think you can hide behind
the masses, but he always manage to find that one student who isn’t paying
attention or have fallen asleep to ask the hardest question. If you answer
wrong, then he makes sure to subtract a point from your exam.”

“It
doesn’t help this class is way early in the morning,” I said.

“That’s
why he does this…almost half the class is barely awake for class.”

“Smart,”
I laughed. “I should try that for my evening scene classes.” I made a note to
myself, and added in bold script, DRINK COFFEE.

I
got up from my seat to walk over a few seats to the next student at the end of
my row with the group sign-up sheet, and was about to head back to my seat when
I spotted a familiar jersey on one of the students sitting in front.

He
was a large guy with dark, almost black wavy hair that was cropped close to his
head, wearing a San Francisco 49er jersey which was filled out by broad
shoulders, and talking animatedly with the pretty blonde girl seated to his
right. On his left was a bosomy brunette, pressed close to him, acting very
interested in what he was saying. Clearly the best-looking guy in class, based
on the view from behind, he seemed to carry himself with easy confidence and
charisma. Girls seemed to be drawn to him from left to right. Even behind him
was a row of well-manicured, well-made up nicely dress girls leaning forward
towards him, as though they wanted to hear what he said. At one point, they all
burst out laughing, and one of the girls in back, patted his shoulders, which
got his attention.

Boy,
I thought I’d seen it all before with good-looking cocky guys using their looks
and body to get sex, casual sex whenever they wanted it, but all that
flirtation right in front of class…it was shameful how the women were throwing
themselves at him. One of them was playing with his hair even, and another had
leaned in to whisper into his ear, while touching his neck from behind.

I
was about to head back to my seat when he turned around abruptly, as though he
had heard someone call his name. Without hesitation, his blue eyes traveled up
to the back of the room where it met mine. For a second, my breath caught in my
throat, and I was frozen in place, staring down into eyes I’ve seen several
times over the years. Drew’s.

He
had an easy smile on his face when he first turned around, but when his eyes
met mine, his smile disappeared, and a look of pain briefly flickered on his
face, causing a couple of the girls to turn around to see what could’ve caused
Mr. Hot and Perfect to get serious for a second.

I
quickly made my way back to my seat before the girls could recognize me
standing there, and began flipping through my notebook. I should’ve recognized
Drew from the start, but his new haircut, clean and closely cropped, threw me
off.

Him
surrounded by so many girls, threw me off. Apparently, he had no problem
adjusting to college life so soon, unlike me.

I
felt more pathetic thinking about how challenging this first week of school was
for me, than it was for him. How at ease he seemed talking to obviously the
most prettiest and popular girls who looked like they just walked out of a
salon, on campus while I was dressed in an old grey Twilight t-shirt, cut-off
jeans, and a long white cotton cardigan and sneakers, looking like some high
school nerd while he looked like some hot underwear model.

Stop
feeling so insecure!

My
brain was trying to get me to focus, while I struggled to put aside my
feelings. It must be the lack of sleep, having my arm in a sling, and missing
my friends and Aunt Sookie.

Luckily,
I didn’t have time to dwell on my sudden feeling of insecurity, as Trish nudged
me with her elbow.

The
class grew silent, and a man in his fifties walked to the podium. He had stark
white hair that stood up like a lion’s mane, and a nicely trimmed beard that
was a shade of salt and pepper like his moustache.

For
an older man, he was striking, dressed entirely in black. Instantly my eyes
were riveted to his commanding distinguished presence. He looked, acted, and
embodied the very essence of what I had imagined a professor of drama and
literature would be.

He
turned on the screen behind him, and took out a clipper-like device. Then he
talked into the microphone in front of him. “In case you think this class is
the Tribal Storytelling Through the Ages Class, I’m Professor Standish, and
this is Classical Literature and Drama”

So
he had a dry sense of humor, I thought. I was already beginning to like the
class, even though Drew was in it, too, with his harem of Mrs. Drew wannabes.

Having
Drew in the same class as me shouldn’t be so bad. After all, it was what we had
originally planned when we both heard we were going to start school a semester
earlier. But plans change, and now it seemed old Drew was back, along with his
full Drew Effect.

It
shouldn’t bother me so much. It wasn’t as though we were together. It wasn’t as
though we have a commitment to each other. Somehow, however, just seeing him up
there flirting with those girls, letting them touch him, and even shamelessly
give him their numbers; I felt sick to my stomach.

I
wanted to ignore him, to forget he was here, but that was impossible. In order
to pay attention in class and follow along Professor Standish’s lecture, I had
to stare straight in the direction of Drew and harem to Professor Standish.
Having him in the line of sight to the professor was the most distracting thing
I’ve ever experienced in class. My eyes were riveted to the girls next to Drew,
lightly playing with his hair or even rubbing his back.

At
times, Drew would look over at one of them and whisper into her ears or lean
playfully into another. Except for that one time he turned back and made eye
contact with me, he acted like he didn’t know me.

He
didn’t even glance back at me once as the lecture slowly ended. By then, I was
fuming mad. I wanted to run out of there and head straight home. Maybe go
jogging on the beach, to get that image of him and those girls out of my head.

Professor
Standish finished his lecture, and I bolted out of my seat so fast, I knocked
over my textbook, and bag, making everything spill to the ground with a loud
thump. Everyone in front of me, including Professor Standish turned to look in
my direction, as I bent down and tried unsuccessfully to pick up my books,
pens, hairbrush, and phone. With one arm in a sling, I was sure I made an
awkward sight.

Trish
bent down to help me, and I whispered a quick “Thank You”.

“No
problem,” she said. “It must be tough enough having to carry all those books
and everything with a broken arm.”

“I
can manage,” I said, almost finished picking up a small first aid kit.

I
was reaching for my small turquoise leather notepad, which Nat had jotted down
a sweet note in, when a large hand reached over and plucked it up off the
floor.

Still
crouching on the ground with Trish next to me, I followed that hand up long
muscular legs clad in tight jeans up an obvious smooth washboard stomach,
well-defined chest, shoulders, and arms, to a handsome chiseled face with blue
eyes and dark hair.

Drew.
He looked angry, but he didn’t say anything except stare at me as though he
wanted to shake me.

I
bit my lips, trying to keep from letting out a frustrated sigh. Finally, he
acknowledged me in class like this?

Trish
saw the looks Drew and I exchanged each other as though we were about to start
a duel and excuse herself. “Well, I’ll see you in the group study on Monday,”
she said. “Good luck with things, Summer.”

“Thanks!”
I cracked a smile. Looks like I may have made a new friend in college.

Drew
flipped the cover of my notepad over, glanced at what was written inside, and
visibly clenched his jaw tighter.

I
didn’t want to wait to see why he was so pissed at me. I placed the strap of my
bag over my shoulders, and brushed past him, on my way out of the classroom
without turning back.

I
was about a few steps away from exit when a hand grabbed my good elbow from
behind. “Summer, wait,” Drew said.

I
stopped to glare at him. “What do you want?”

Drew
ran his hand through his hair, and bit his lips. His eyes darted all over my
face, resting on my eyes and mouth a couple of times. “Summer,” he said, a note
of longing in his voice.

I
tried crossing my arms, but my sling got in the way so I ended up using my good
hand to hold the forearm of my bad arm. When I found a comfortable and less
awkward position, I stopped fumbling and waited for Drew to say what he had to
say.

“Summer…”
he began and stopped. He finally handed me my notepad, saying, “You dropped
this.”

I
took it and said, “Thanks. Nat gave that to me before he left for San Fran.”

Drew
nodded. “I know. It’s Nat’s notepad. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. It was a
gift from Aunt Sookie years ago when he turned ten.”

“Oh,”
I said, vaguely remembering the details.

Drew
shuffled on his feet. “So you and Nat…” he didn’t finished.

“Drew…”
I said being as gentle as I could. “Nat and I are close. You kinda pushed me
closer to him, Drew.”