He talked and talked, going into more detail than any of us could absorb. I tried to pay attention, but I kept drifting, noticing instead the embroidered monogram of his shirt, the gold wristwatch peeking from beneath his cuff. His accent still had the last traces of a childhood spent somewhere in Canada’s sprawling interior. He was rich and young. He’d done everything right. But he looked tired beneath it all.
The sky outside had darkened. Reynolds waved down the waitress to close out his tab. “Have to head back,” he said, draining his beer. He passed around business cards. “I know you guys are good, but odds are you’re not going to the pros after college. Call me if you ever want advice.”
Earlier that day, before afternoon practice, I’d finally moved my things into my dorm room. The other students would be arriving the following morning. That night, after Reynolds left, I wanted to forget what I was about to face: the people who had earned their place at this school through different means—through more legitimate means. I’d spent the previous week pretending that this place belonged to me, but it was only that—pretending. After leaving the bar, a few of us picked up a case of beer and a handle of whiskey and brought it back to my room, drinking until late. By the end of the night, it had done the trick. I’d almost forgotten. I kicked the empty cans aside and collapsed onto the bare bed.
In the dim basement of a frat house, in a room that smelled like beer and dirt, a girl pressed her body against mine. She kept laughing at everything I said. It was that first night after everyone arrived, the first real night, and my teammates and I ventured in a pack from party to party. I moved my hand down her waist, over her T-shirt, and she drew closer. Okay, I thought. It still worked. We danced for a while, and then we were kissing. She tasted like tequila and salt. A few songs later, she pushed closer with impatience. She was cute, with a great body, and both of us were the right amount of buzzed. But in that moment sex seemed only marginally appealing, not worth all the trouble. I felt a little melancholy. My teammates were scattered throughout the room, distracted by other girls or games of beer pong, so I extracted myself and left the party unnoticed.
Back at the dorm, the light coming through the door to my entryway caught a figure in silhouette. It was a girl, tall and long-legged. Blond. She looked familiar. As I got closer, I recognized her from the diner that morning. Her hair was loose and long, and she’d changed into a dress. She was looking for something in her purse and didn’t see me until I was right behind her, reaching for my key card.
“Oh! God, you scared me,” she said.
“You need to get in?”
She laughed. “I think I managed to lose my card already.”
“You live here, too?”
“On the fourth floor. I’m Julia.”
“I’m Evan. Third floor.”
I stepped aside to usher her through the open door. “After you.”
“Oh—thanks.”
The door fell shut with a loud bang.
“So, Evan.” She smiled. “Where are you from?”
“Canada.”
“Really? That’s cool. Where in Canada?”
“The middle of nowhere. You’ve never heard of it.”
“Try me.”
“Carlton. It’s in British Columbia, the interior.” She shrugged, and I laughed. “I knew it. What about you?”
“Boston. Well, just outside Boston. Brookline.”
I was tempted to say something about the Red Sox, remembering the hat from that morning, then I reminded myself that she didn’t know I’d been looking.
“Did you go out tonight?”
“Yeah, with my teammates. Hockey,” I added.
“That explains the Canadian thing. You must get that a lot. Or you will.”
I laughed. My beery buzz had vanished. The way she was looking at me wasn’t the way the other girls looked at me back home. Her face was like an image firmly fixed on canvas where the other girls’ had been slippery glass. Right here in the present, breathing the same air, not off in some imagined future. Midnight wasn’t late. The night was just starting. “Hey, are you hungry?” I asked.
“Starving, actually.”
We walked to the pizza place on Broadway. Up at the counter, she reached for her purse, but I waved her money away. I could give her this, at least. On the way home, we sat on a low stone wall, waiting for the pizza to cool. I watched as she plucked a piece of pepperoni from her slice. Her kind of beauty snuck up on you. You had to look a little closer to really get it. Someone called her name from across the street. She waved back at him.
“That was fast,” I said.
“What was?”
“You made friends already.”
“No, we went to high school together. There are a bunch of us here.”
“Oh. That must be nice.”
“I guess. What about you? What do you think of it so far?”
“This place?” I swiveled, taking in the panorama. “Just like the brochure. But more drunk people.” She laughed. “It’s about what I expected. Or not. I don’t know. I’m still taking it in.”
“Different from home?”
“Are you kidding?”
She smiled. “It must be an adjustment.”
“That’s an understatement. What about you? What do you think of it?”
“It’s just like the brochure.”
“Touché.” I laughed. “So, Julia. How was your summer?”
She blinked once, staring down at the sidewalk. She blinked again.
“I’m sorry. Wrong question?”