First Impressions Series (1-2), Page 2

  Get a grip, Porter, I thought to myself. It’s just some random girl. Why would I care if some other guy hit on her?

  I kept up with the conversation for a while, trying my best to seem interested in what the current girl was saying who had now occupied a chair at our table with us. I felt like I was having the same conversation over and over, just like always, with each and every girl who came by.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if any of them actually wanted to get to know me and not just the idea of me. Not that I could complain too much. What guy wouldn’t give his left nut to have beautiful women at his disposal at any given time, whatever the reason?

  After a while, Clara’s friend caught my eye again as she sat alone at the bar sipping on a mixed drink while looking around the room from table to table. I thought about going over to introduce myself, but the fact that the girl here at our table was really only talking to me at that point made it nearly impossible without seeming rude.

  What made me keep noticing this girl? She was beautiful, that was obvious, but I saw beautiful women all the time. Beautiful women threw themselves at me all the time. What made this one so different?

  From what I could tell, she had a way of commanding the room without even trying. The minute she walked in the door, mine wasn’t the only head that had turned and taken notice. Even then, as she sat there alone at the bar, guys were taking notice of her, and yet no one approached her. Why was that?

  Did she have a boyfriend? That could be why, but it could also be that she was out of any schmuck’s league sitting in this room. But what about me? I wondered.

  Before I knew it, I stole another glance in her direction and she was gone. I looked over to the front entrance just in time to see her and Clara exiting. I was pissed at myself for missing my chance to make the girl’s acquaintance.

  Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was probably just fabricating some idea I was conjuring in my mind about her. She was probably the same as every other girl I talked to. Just like the girl who was sitting in front of me at that moment and every other girl who had stopped by our table that night. No sense in going out of my way just to be disappointed.

  Oh well, I thought. Carry on.

  CHAPTER 2: ZIA

  Mondays were always such an uphill battle. You’d get used to sleeping in on the weekends, staying up late, and then you could never go to bed as early as you needed to on Sunday nights.

  This weekend was fairly uneventful; although I at least didn’t have any studying to do since our mid-terms were last week. Clara had gone out with Cason on Sunday evening as they had planned, and when she got home late that night I got to hear all about what a great time she had. It seemed like she was really feeling Cason so far. It was no surprise, really, since she’d had her eye on him for weeks.

  I made it through my morning classes and headed to the Student Central Building at the university to meet up with Clara and grab some lunch. I stood in line to pay for my sandwich and grabbed the last empty table to sit and eat.

  I went to set my book bag in the chair next to me, and I noticed that someone had left a Biology text book there. I picked up the book and flipped it open to see if someone had possibly written their name inside it.

  “There it is! Sorry, I left my Bio book sitting here earlier. I thought I’d lost it.”

  I looked up, and there was Mr. Pack Leader Guy himself with his hand reaching out for the book I still held in my hands.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m glad you found it then. Here you go.” I handed the book to him, a forced attempt at a polite grin.

  “Thanks.” He smiled at me graciously.

  “No problem,” I answered and then directed my attention back to my lunch.

  “I’m Dylan, by the way.”

  “Uh, nice to meet you, Dylan. I’m Marzia.”

  “Marzia. That’s an unusual name. I haven’t heard it before.”

  “It’s Italian. Marzia Benagli. I really just go by Zia.”

  “Well, Zia, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Thank you.” I really didn’t know what else to say. I definitely didn’t want this guy mistaking my words with any kind of flirtation after seeing all those girls hitting on him just a few nights before. No need to feed his ego any more than it likely already was.

  There were a few seconds of awkward silence before he finally began walking away after saying, “Well, see you around. Thanks again for finding my book.”

  It looked like he was actually annoyed or mystified that I didn’t respond to him like the girls I’d seen at the Book Shelf the other night. Maybe it was just my imagination.

  Clara came and pulled up a chair at my table in a rush. She began spearing the salad that was her lunch.

  “Were you seriously just talking to Dylan Porter?” It figured Clara would know who he was.

  “So it seems. I guess he left his Biology book sitting here and he came back to find it.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know a guy like him had to study.” Clara was focused on her salad as she spoke between bites.

  “Why is that?” I wondered if he was some type of genius or something, but he didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.

  “Oh my God, Zia, Dylan Porter is a legend around here! Apparently his dad has bank and donates all kinds of money to the university. I’m pretty sure there’s a building named after him somewhere on campus. Dylan’s pretty hot, though, isn’t he? I couldn’t believe you were talking to him. He doesn’t really seem like your type. But speaking of hot guys, guess who asked me out again for this Friday?”

  Clara seemed so excited, and I was glad for the topic diversion.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Cason! Who else? I’m going to have to go get a new outfit, and maybe a manicure. I saw this sweet little bright blue dress at that new shop on the corner by our apartment. It’ll be perfect.”

  Clara and I lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building close to everything. It wasn’t officially college housing, but it might as well have been. We were within walking distance of the school, shopping, restaurants, the university, and of course, the night life. Most of the time we just walked anywhere we needed to go, except for after dark when we would usually take a cab or call for an Uber. Since it was such a short distance, the fares were quite cheap.

  Clara and I continued chatting about her upcoming weekend until it was time to walk to our next classes, and so we went our separate ways. We usually ate lunch together, since we both had the same break between our classes. We had planned our class schedules that way after it had become tradition two semesters in.

  Most people might have thought that we’d get tired of each other after spending so much time together and being so different from each other. But luckily, we were both so easy-going that it really worked out well for the two of us. It came as a surprise to most people that we had only just met since we had both moved here for school and hadn’t known each other all our lives.

  I finished up my last couple of classes for the afternoon, and decided I’d go to the nearby coffee shop, the Daylee Grind, to study for a bit before I went home that evening. It was a nice little local shop owned and run by the Daylee family; hence the name. I spent so much time there since starting at the university that I got to know Mr. and Mrs. Daylee on a first name basis.

  Well, they called me by my first name, and I called them Mr. and Mrs. Daylee, because they were my elders and that was the polite thing to do.

  I found an empty table beside the outer glass wall that looked out onto a sidewalk and a street that ran parallel to the university. It was a nice spot to sit and watch the people walking by and the patrons coming and going from the coffee shop, which I usually did more of than studying.

  I also enjoyed seeing the backdrop of the trees just across the street on the university campus. The leaves were turning various shades of orange, red, and brown now that we were nearing the end of October, and the people walking down the sidewalk were rustl
ing the stray leaves beneath their feet.

  Today, since I had just gotten a whole new set of work from most of my classes to kick off the second half of the semester after our midterms last week, I actually had enough to keep my attention focused on. I pulled out a notebook and began writing some notes for a paper.

  About an hour and a half later, I was pulled out of my homework trance when a voice above me said my name.

  “Zia?”

  I looked up and saw Mr. Pack Leader, Dylan.

  “Hey… Dylan, right? How’s it going?”

  “Hey, I thought that was you. I was just passing by the window and saw you. I just got out of practice.”

  “Practice?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I play in a soccer league. Didn’t you know?” Did he really just ask me that like I was supposed to know who he was? A lot was starting to make sense about the way he and all those girls were acting last Friday.

  “I guess not. Did you come here to study?” No need to keep the conversation feeding his already seemingly big ego.

  “Well, not really, but it seems like a nice quiet place to get a little homework done. You mind if I join you? It doesn’t look like there are any more tables open.” He reached for the chair across from mine and stood waiting for me to invite him.

  I looked around and noticed how full the shop was now. “Sure, why not?” I answered.

  Dylan sat down and began digging through the book bag that he had set on the table in front of him. “So, what are you working on?”

  “Oh, I have a paper I’m working on for Social Psychology. You?”

  “I have some algebra homework I need to do. You any good at math?” he asked and smiled.

  “Eh, I get by. Probably not math tutor material, though.” I laughed.

  We began making small talk and I found myself thinking that Dylan seemed a lot more down to earth than I had expected him to be. He was confident like I remembered seeing before, but not so much that he seemed arrogant, at least not at the moment.

  Before I knew it, an hour and a half had gone by. Part of it was comfortable silence while we each studied or worked on our homework, but a lot of it was just casual banter.

  He didn’t seem so bad, I thought; at least not sitting here alone with me, without his sidekicks or a bunch of ambitious, flirty girls around. A few times people passed by the table and greeted him, made a little small talk, and went about their way. He was undeniably well-known around here.

  I got the feeling he was a little out of place studying in a coffee shop, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable at all; like he was one of those guys who were just comfortable in their own skin, no matter where they were or whom they were with.

  “You don’t have a boyfriend who’s going to get pissed that I’m here hanging out with you, do you?”

  “Um, no… It’s no big deal. So what’s your story, anyway? I saw you the other night at the Book Shelf. You seem like you have quite a selection to choose from,” I taunted him playfully.

  “Oh, yeah… that. Yeah, we won our soccer match last Saturday, so me and my buddies went up there to celebrate with some drinks.” He ran his hand through his messy hair nervously.

  “I see. I knew I didn’t remember seeing you there before.”

  “If you saw us there, why didn’t you come up and say hi or something?” he asked.

  “Oh, you looked like you had plenty of company to keep you occupied. Besides, I’m more of a keep-to-myself kind of person.”

  “Hmph, that’s cool, I guess.” He began drawing random lines and drawings on a piece of paper in a notebook he took out as he kept his eyes focused on me.

  I didn’t say anything for a moment, so he picked the conversation back up.

  “It was mostly my buddies who were talking to all those girls. They usually drag me out with them so they can pick up chicks.” Was he really making excuses for acting like a typical college guy?

  “Oh, it’s cool. I totally get it. Variety is the spice of life, right?” I tried to ease his conscience and gave a knowing laugh as I tapped my pen against my own notebook. He didn’t owe me any explanations.

  “So they say…” he looked down in a failed attempt at indifference.

  “What’s wrong?” Of course the budding psychologist in me had to ask.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” This time he made eye contact, the corner of his mouth turning up in a one-sided grin. “I mean, to be honest, I can pretty much have any girl I want, and I’ve dated quite a few girls since I started playing in the league here a couple years back.”

  I could almost see the dot-dot-dot in the air preceding the conjunction he hadn’t yet said, so I obliged for him.

  “But?”

  He looked at me with a shrug, as if to say why not? and continued, “But I don’t know. They’re all the same. I just get tired of it after a while. Ya know?” He ran his fingers through his hair again and started looking around the room as though he were afraid to look at me, or maybe to make sure no one overheard him, after spilling his guts like that. Guys weren’t supposed to talk about their feelings, I guessed.

  “I know what you mean. But really, I have to be honest with you here. What do you expect?”

  I could tell that was not the answer he was expecting to hear from me, but I had to make him take responsibility for his own actions right up front.

  “What do you mean?” He straightened in his chair and leaned forward with his elbows on the table on top of his notebook. His hands folded together with his fingers interlocked.

  “I mean, if you’re only looking for a certain type, then why do you expect them all to be any different from each other?” I leaned back in my chair and let that sink in for a moment.

  He looked puzzled, so I went on.

  “What kind of girl are you looking for, anyway?” I asked.

  “I don’t know… someone with a mind of her own. Someone who I know likes me for who I am and not because of who I am, I guess.” He paused for a moment, contemplating. “And it wouldn’t hurt if she was attractive, of course.” He laughed and looked down at his hands on the table on the last sentence.

  “Hmm…” I silently began contemplating.

  He watched me quietly for a while, and then curiosity finally got the best of him.

  “What?” he insisted.

  “I’m just thinking. You seem like a nice guy, Dylan. I might be able to help you find the right kind of girl, if you wanted.”

  “You mean set me up with someone? I don’t know,” he answered with skepticism.

  “No, I don’t mean set you up with anyone. Have you ever heard of the saying, ‘give a guy a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach a guy to fish and he’ll eat for life?’ Well, I mean that I can try to teach you how to fish.” I always found it best to put things in terms that people could understand.

  “I got ya. Okay, you have my attention,” he said as a look of interest and a hint of skepticism spread across his face. “So how is this going to work?”

  “Well, we’d have to go out to some places where you can meet people, and I could help you figure out what to look for, what to stay away from, stuff like that,” I explained.

  “I don’t know. How do I know that you’d even be able to really help?” he questioned.

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” If he didn’t want my help, I was definitely not going to force it on him. I didn’t have enough interest in it to be offended if he didn’t take me up on my offer, but if I were completely honest with myself, I was definitely interested in the prospect of testing out my intuitive skills and my ability to read people.

  “How about I think about it and let you know?” He didn’t want to make a commitment to it just yet. I could respect that. At least it meant he wasn’t the kind of guy who’d say he would do something and not follow through with it.

  “No problem. That’s totally understandable.” I nodded my head in agreement.

  “Okay. So, I guess I need your number then. You kn
ow… to let you know what I decide.” He reached for his cell phone and pressed buttons to get it ready for a new phonebook entry.

  I told him my number, and we both packed up our notebooks, getting ready to leave.

  * * *

  It was just a few blocks to my apartment, and there was still plenty of traffic out, so I decided to walk home. When I walked in the door, I hung my keys on a key hook and kicked my shoes off in the entryway before walking in to sit beside Clara on the sofa.

  Clara had a pizza box on the coffee table with a couple pieces already eaten, so I grabbed a slice and asked her how her day went.

  “Oh, the usual, really. I stopped and got that blue dress on the way home today. I just couldn’t wait to get it! I didn’t want my size to be gone by the time I went in. You want to see it?” Clara was always so upbeat and positive. I loved that about her.

  “Sure!” I didn’t have to fake my enthusiasm. It had been a long time since I’d seen Clara so excited about a new guy like this, and I was really happy for her.

  I followed Clara into her bedroom and watched as she held the new dress up across the front of her body. It was a great color for her. Blue always brought out the color of her eyes really well. We often shared clothes since we were pretty much the same size.

  My eyes were a lighter shade of blue than Clara’s, and my hair a dark brown in stark contrast to Clara’s golden blonde hair, but most of the things we wore suited both of us well, so it was an added benefit to have twice the wardrobe.

  “Wow, that dress is gorgeous! Why don’t you try it on?” It never took a lot of coaxing to get Clara to play dress up. She was a very girly-girl so she loved anything having to do with glitter and glamor. She went into the closet and changed into the dress. She came out modeling it as though she were on a runway.

  “What do you think?” She looked at me expectantly.

  “That looks great on you, Clar! What are you guys going to do this weekend?” I sat on her bed and watched her as she looked through the jewelry on her dresser and held different sets of earrings up to her ears.