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They say curiosity killed the cat.
Well, I’m not a cat, and I’m not dead, but my curiosity is the reason I’ve currently got a C in Philosophy. If I’d just kept my damn mouth shut…
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I grew up in a small town in northern California. When I say small, I mean a population just shy of 17,000. Not quite a backwater but… Not far off. I honestly probably would’ve stayed there if left to my own devices, helping Mom with the family business. Maybe I’d have met a girl at some point and settled down, who knows. I probably would’ve been happy… I think.
But Mom wanted more for me than that. She pushed both my sister and I to do well in school, and when it came time to graduate, she sat down with us and made us apply to what felt like every college under the sun. Pretty sure we spent like $1,000 on application fees by the time we were finished.
It paid off though. Abbie got accepted to her journalism program of choice at USC with a hefty scholarship. As for me, I ended up with a full ride to Texas A everything is bigger in Texas, it would seem. And she was looking right at me with a radiant smile on her face, paralyzing me as effectively as Medusa herself.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, gesturing towards the empty chair next to me.
If I’d been standing, I’d probably have fainted.
As it was, I just kinda made a noise, like a choked, pathetic gasp. I don’t think I could recreate it even if I tried. At the same time, I could feel my cheeks burning, hotter than ever before. I’m sure I probably looked ridiculous given the way she giggled, but at the time I wasn’t in a headspace to appreciate her laugh.
On the contrary, I was dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Gobsmacked, even.
Girls… Didn’t usually talk to me, and especially not ones like this. I’m ashamed to admit it, but my first thought after coming around to the fact that someone this attractive had actually acknowledged my existence was “what’s the catch?” I just assumed it must’ve been some joke, or a cruel prank. I glanced around me looking for cameras or snickering classmates, but found none. Maybe I was dreaming?
I tried to rationalize it. The lecture hall was getting pretty full at this point, and it didn’t look like the girl had come in with a group, which meant she must be alone like I was. And if you’re gonna have to sit next to a stranger, well, the scrawny, 5′ 4″ twink with glasses is about as non-threatening as they come.
That had to be it. I was simply the lesser of all presented evils, a safer bet than sitting next to a cliche of bitchy girls or getting harassed by the brawny football players filling out some of the other rows. It was the only explanation, Because the alternative, the idea that a girl like this would willingly go out of her way to interact with a nerdy dork like me, was simply laughable.
Of course, the entire time I’m over-analyzing the shit out of everything, this poor woman is still just standing there waiting for me to respond, her smile unwavering. After slowly pulling my earbuds out of my ears, I finally found the strength to give her a meager wave, hoping that she didn’t notice the way my hands were shaking.
“U-uh, no it’s all yours,” I stammered, my voice catching in my throat. The girl slid into the seat with a relieved sight, setting her backpack on the floor in front of her. I couldn’t help but notice that her substantial thighs barely fit in the narrow lecture hall chair, which was… Neat.
“Chill dude,” I told myself, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat. “She’s just a person, just like Mom or Abbie. She’s probably only sitting next to me cause she knows she could beat me up if she needed to. No need to be all weird about it.”
After getting comfortable, the girl turned towards me again, which spiked my heartrate enough for my smartwatch to yell at me. Then she held out her hand. Her fingernails were painted a satin green, the same shade as her captivating eyes.
“Hi, I’m Sarafe,” she escort bursa chirped, offering another cheerful smile. She seemed to smile a lot.
“C-Cameron,” I replied, annoyed that I couldn’t get my shaky voice under control. When I took her hand, it was warm and unbelievably soft.
“Nice to meet you, Cameron. Are you from around here?”
“Oh, um, no. I’m from California.”
“Oh cool! What city? I’ve met a few people from LA already.”
I had to suppress a laugh. They might’ve been in the same state, but my hometown was about as far from the City of Angels as you could get. “It’s a small town in Norcal called McKinleyville, I’d be… Surprised, if you’ve heard of it.”
Sarafe scrunched her lips to the side, searching her memory for something I knew she wasn’t going to find. “Can’t say I have,” she eventually admitted. “What brings you down here then? Cali to Texas is a long way.”
“Oh uh, I got a pretty good scholarship,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I still didn’t know how to explain that the university was practically paying me to be here without making it sound like I was bragging, and the last thing I wanted was for this Sarafe character to think I was stuck up.
“What’s your major?” Sarafe asked.
“Computer science.”
Sarafe smirked, which made my stomach do a little summersault. “Oh watch out, we gotta smarty-pants over here” she teased. “I bet you just love having to sit through a Philosophy lecture then.”
“Hey you never know, maybe Karl Marx has some surprisingly insightful commentary into recursive algorithms,” I said dryly, drawing a genuine chuckle from the hot stranger I could still hardly believe I was actually talking to. This time, I was almost relaxed enough to appreciate it. She had a nice laugh.
“Yea, gotta love those gen-ed requirements,” Sarafe grumbled, shaking her head. “I’m in the same boat as an Architecture major, but who knows, maybe you’re right! I’m sure Freud has some hidden secrets that will help me design better skyscrapers.”
That got a smile outta me. I had to admit, when I’d first seen Sarafe, with her effortless beauty and shameless sex appeal, alongside her obvious athleticism, I’d initially profiled her as one of the airheaded jocks I’d grown up with. The volleyball girls from my high school had always been easy on the eyes with their thick thighs and tight spandex, but they weren’t exactly known for their intelligence.
But it seemed I’d been treating her unfairly. Sarafe had thus far shown herself to be friendly and articulate and surprisingly funny, and there was a light behind her eyes that suggested she was far from some shallow meathead.
“What about you? Are you… From here?” I asked, doing my best impression of a normal human making small talk. Idle conversation had never really been a strong suit of mine, especially when it came to attractive women, but the prospect of sitting in awkward silence felt even less desirable than running the risk of putting my foot in my mouth.
“Oh, no, I’m from Miami!” I raised my eyebrow, but it seemed Sarafe had anticipated my next question before I could even ask. “I just wanted a change of scenery,” she added, with a knowing wink. Given the casual way she’d struck up a conversation with a total stranger, I wasn’t shocked to learn Sarafe was from a big city. Florida too made sense. There was something about her that gave “beach girl” vibes.
I was saved from having to come up with a reply by a commotion towards the front of the room. A man much older than the assembled students, I presumed the professor, had stepped in from a side entrance and was fiddling with the projectors. Seemed like class was about to start. Sarafe reached down to her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be an older laptop, the cover decorated with a veritable mosaic of stickers. After setting it on the folding desk attached to her chair, she turned towards me, wearing a soft smile once more.
“Well hey, if I’m gonna have to suffer görükle escort through this class, it’ll be nice to do it with a friend.” She gave me a playful shove in the shoulder, while I nearly fainted again.
Had she just called me her friend?
—
If it had been up to me, I probably wouldn’t have talked to Sarafe after that. Not because I didn’t like her or anything, on the contrary, I thought she was wonderful, but… She was also smart and pretty and confident and social and… Basically everything I wasn’t. I’d grown up with strong women, don’t get me wrong, but Sarafe… She intimidated me.
But in the end, it wasn’t up to me. Sarafe kinda made that decision for the both of us when she demanded my number after that first philosophy class.
“We can be study buddies!” she’d said excitedly. She looked so happy, I didn’t have the heart to turn her down. After exchanging contact info, she departed just as suddenly as she’d arrived, promising to be in touch soon. Then she was gone, leaving in her wake a warm seat and the subtle scent of mint.
We met at the library for our first study session a few days later, and I felt like an awkward dumbass the entire time. I had a hard time looking Sarafe in the eyes because of how… Intense, they were, but then looking elsewhere came with its own share of problems.
She’d worn a fairly unremarkable Aggie hoodie, which was considerate of her, but her light grey leggings left very little to the imagination. It was almost like they were designed to show off her phenomenal ass, and then there was the matter of her substantial package clearly outlined on the opposite side.
You try studying with that on your periphery.
In the beginning, we kept things pretty professional. We mainly just talked about school stuff, and I did my best to pretend that I could be mostly normal around her. That said, after a while, our conversations began to wander a little.
I learned that Sarafe had grown up in Miami, and gone to a high school that was genuinely nearly ten times the size of mine. I learned that she was also living on campus like I was. And I confirmed that she was in fact on the school’s volleyball team, making her a collegiate-level athlete in addition to her staggering collection of other notable features.
And honestly, the more I learned about her, the more I wondered why she was bothering to spend time with me.
She was so confident and friendly and personable, people gravitated towards her like she was magnetic. It seemed like every time we studied together, some random person would stop to compliment her hair or her makeup or her clothes, and every time Sarafe would smile and laugh and find something nice to say in return. I watched her grab more than a few numbers following these interactions like it was nothing. She made it all look so… Easy.
Meanwhile, I was shy and awkward and I turned into an anxious mess anytime someone so much as looked in my direction. Sarafe seemed to appreciate my sarcastic sense of humor at least, but I could never escape the feeling that she was only laughing at my jokes to be polite.
And yet… She kept coming back. As time went on and I slowly got more comfortable around her, our conversations went from strictly business to something more… Companionable. We’d exchange memes or silly YouTube videos we liked every so often, and she even invited me to get lunch with her a couple times. I never once felt like she saw me as anything more than a friend, but… She was still the only one in Texas who’d ever made a genuine effort to make me feel included, when everyone else looked past me like I didn’t exist. I really appreciated that.
Such was our relationship for several weeks; more than acquaintances, but not quite friends, despite Sarafe’s assertions upon our first meeting. It’s entirely possible things might’ve stayed that way ’til we graduated, were it not for… The Incident.
One evening, we were studying together in the library like we normally did, which involved the expected amount of lingering stares from various passers-by.
Something to know about Sarafe; it wasn’t like she went out of her way to be provocative, but she did like wearing clothes that were cute or comfortable (or both), and very little of what she wore seemed designed with her particular anatomy in mind. Not that I could blame her, with what she’s packing she’d probably need to get clothes custom made if she cared about modesty, and I learned pretty early on that A) Sarafe doesn’t give a fuck about modesty and B) she didn’t have the money for custom clothes even if she did.
In any case, the often revealing realities of Sarafe’s apparel never seemed to be a big deal to her, and in time, even I learned to get used to it as well. That said, for those who weren’t as familiar with her, it wasn’t uncommon to see folks who couldn’t quite keep their eyes to themselves.
This never seemed to bother Sarafe. In just the few weeks we’d spent together, I’d witnessed for myself just how often she had to deal with people’s rudeness, and I had the impression it was something she’d learned to tune out a long time ago. Besides, it’s not like there was much she could do about it, aside from wear baggy clothes and a paper sack over her head, or just not go out in public at all; neither good options for a woman who didn’t really concern herself with the opinions of others in the first place.
That said, for as used to it as we were, that night in particular was… Rough.
There was a group of guys sitting at the table next to ours, and from the moment we sat down, they wouldn’t take their eyes off Sarafe. They were constantly whispering and looking at us and every so often they’d just start snickering. I had no idea what they were saying, but it certainly didn’t sound flattering.
I’m sure Sarafe noticed them, it was impossible not to, but I’m pretty sure she’d have been happy to go right on ignoring them. That said, I gotta admit… Those guys kinda got to me.
Sarafe had been nothing but nice to me since the moment we met, and I’ll be honest, it really bothered me the way these assholes were treating her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was some white knight trying to defend Sarafe’s honor, I knew she was more than capable of that herself, but… It was getting increasingly hard for me to ignore.
And even if their jokes weren’t at our expense, it’s kinda hard to study when the chucklefucks at the next table over are constantly laughing. It was the library, for fucks sake! Don’t you know you’re supposed to be quiet?
Anyway, I’m about the least confrontational guy there is, but the longer this went on, the angrier I got. I was one more arrogant smirk away from storming over there and showing those shitheads what proper nerd rage looked like, when Sarafe reached across the table and set her fingers on the back of my hand.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said with a soft smile.
Then she got up, walked right up to the table of guys without a moment of hesitation, and did something I’ll never forget.
In full view of everyone, she pulled down the front of her leggings.
She had her back to me so I couldn’t see what she’d shown them, but given the way all the guys’ faces turned white, it must’ve been something good. Despite my lack of a clear view, her voice easily carried behind her.
“Get a good look boys,” she’d taunted, “This is what a real woman looks like. If any of you fine gentlemen wanna ask me out, I should warn you that I’m a top.”
The library went dead silent, even more so than it usually was. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Every eye within earshot was on Sarafe, not just those at the table in front of her. And yet, she didn’t seem to care in the slightest, showing no shame at revealing herself to a room full of strangers.
“What, no takers?” she said after a moment, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What a shame. Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be right over there.” A loud crack echoed around the room as she let the elastic of her waistband snap back into place. “In the meantime, if you would kindly shut the fuck up and let us study, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks!”
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