Carissa

It's Monday again.
 
   Monday always comes so fast. Sunday is the shortest day ever, I swear. It can't be because I stay in pajamas all day and catch up on homework and eat nothing but junk food. Nope, that's not possible.

   This Monday morning, I'm slow moving. I miss the bus, which is fine because Dad has the morning off and offers to drive me. The thing with that is, though, he's in interrogator, when he's in the mood. So I'm stuck beside him in the car for ten minutes, dodging questions the entire time.

   "There's a dinner party next weekend, with my co-workers. Some of their kids will be going. I'd like you to come," he says finally, after asking about my friends, my school work, my classes.

   A dinner party? What does that even mean? I've met plenty of his co-workers and their kids at summer events, bbqs, etc. But dressing up for a dinner party sounds exhausting.

   "Maybe," I tell him, just as he pulls into the parking lot at my school.

   "You need to branch out," he says, his hand on my arm. "You seem okay, but Mom is worried, and I really think-"

   "Okay, I said maybe," I say again, then smile and go on, "Thanks for the ride."

   "Of course, honey," he finishes and watches me go.

    My morning is uneventful. Regular classes and lectures. I have to turn in a paper that I finished the day before, but I don't feel great about it. Lunch is quiet, normal. I'm alone. But my first class after my break is anything but normal. Because while usually I sit in the second last row, alone, with no one else really near me so I can focus on Dr. King, while she lectures about the human anatomy and medical terminology, today, my seat is filled when I step into the classroom.

   He's sitting, so I can't tell how tall he is, but he looks my age. He's definitely not eighteen, fresh out of high school. There are many, many open seats at the moment and I can't wrap my head around why this guy is in mine. Well, it's not like it's labeled, but still. Plus, he's new. I can tell.

   I'm not one for controversy, especially now, so I just slide into a seat a few down from him. It doesn't feel the same. I'm not looking at Dr. King from the same angle and it weirds me out. But I swallow hard and try to ignore all of this. Until he - the mystery guy in my seat - speaks.

   "Hey."

   I look over. "Hi."

   "Um, so, I'm new to this class. New to the college, actually," he says, keeping his eyes on me.

   I feel self conscious a lot these days, when people look at me or notice me. I very quickly turned myself into someone who people didn't want to look at, after the accident. Now all these years later, I still feel that, when I meet people.

   "Okay," I say plainly, and bite my tongue so I don't tell him he's in my seat.

   "I'm Jameson," he goes on, just as Dr. King turns on her mic and starts talking.

   I give him a look that says be quiet and turn my attention to the lecture.

   At the end of the seventy-five minute class, I usually hurry out of there to get to my biology lab, which is pretty far across campus. Today's no different, so I toss my book and notebook in my bag and stand up, but I'm all too aware that Jameson is looking at me.

   "Can I ask a favor?" he says, and I just know he's talking to me.

   "Um, sure. But-"

   "I have a lecture with Dr. Lotus for my administration class in fifteen minutes. I have no idea how to get to the Central Building?"

   Keeping a straight face, I sigh. There are so many other students. There are teachers around. Why he's asking me is beyond me. It's not like I put myself out there as an approachable person.

   "It's sort of complicated at first," I say anyway. "What program are you in?"

   He hesitates and it throws me off a bit. "I actually transferred from University of Tampa. Everything is really different, so I'm just taking classes until it get it sorted."

   "Oh. Well, I had Dr. Lotus' class this morning so... I could walk that way with you." I surprise myself a bit by saying this.

   I have to pass the Central Building to get to my Lab. Biology was not a required class but I am good at science and wanted to take it. Now I'm kicking myself cause it's in an entirely different part of campus than my other classes.

   "That would be amazing. Are you sure?" He's standing up and tossing a bag over his shoulder. I notice he has a birth mark on his shoulder. He's tall and, well, he's physically attractive. It's not like I don't notice these things about guys. I do. I just don't get to act on it, like, ever. I did that in the past. I spent time being the girl who slept around. I was trying to be anyone but who I was, then.

   "Yeah. C'mon," I say, finally.

    The halls of the left wing that we are in are busy and we have to swerve in and around people. As I push open the big doors to go outside, Jameson slips outside and then gets beside me. I glance at him and then keep walking, turning as soon as the Central Building is in sight.

   "When you go in, take a left and go down until you're in the 200 hallway. You'll find it," I say, even though I realize that sounds complicated.

   He nods, turning towards the building. This is the first time I've interacted with someone like this at school and I don't hate it. He's cute and he's new, so he wouldn't know anything about me. And I do miss having friends. Maybe... Jameson could be a friend.

   "Thanks, Carissa," he says and then gives me a smile before continuing on.

   I lift a hand to wave but he's already walking away, and I don't realize until an hour later than I don't remember telling him my name. I must have, though. Right?

   I have two more classes to get through before I can head home. It's not like I'm in a rush to go though, since being at home is not any better. No matter what, I'm lonely and more than anything I want to change that now.

   The month before I started college, I was reckless. I went to parties where I didn't know anyone and I hooked up with guys just so I could feel something. It worked for the time being, but I felt worse in the morning. The week of my first college classes, I cut that out completely and turned into a hermit. But this isn't good either. I don't know what to do with myself.

   I'm waiting for the bus when I see Jameson again. He's crossing the parking lot and is looking down at his phone. There's this feeling in my chest and I realize pretty quickly that it's hope. I hope that I see him again. I hope I get to talk to him again. This feeling is new and it feels like someone is sitting on my chest as I get onto the bus and we head off away from the school.