Opposite Attract

Chapter Seven: Dismissed

Noah's point

"Dude, I'm telling you, that girl was legit insane."

I took another drink of my beer, my feet resting lazily on the coffee table. My pals burst out laughing around me.

We occupied great real estate in our fraternity home, a pair of large leather sofas just across from the massive flat screen. The ideal arrangement for holding court at parties...or just shooting the crap on quiet weeknights like this one.

At the time, I was telling my captivated audience about my adventurous stroll to econ earlier. Specifically, my encounter with that high-strung scholarship lady.

"I mean, she literally screams at me in front of the entire courtyard," I said, heightening the drama. Josh, in particular, latched to every exaggerated phrase I used. "I'm going totally ballistic just because I knocked over her stuff."

"Women, bro." My linebacker friend, James, shook his head wisely. "I can't live with 'em; I can't casually flatten 'em with reckless pedestrian traffic collisions."

The group laughed again. I smirked, reveling up the attention. It felt fantastic to play the part of a fun, troublemaking jock to my friends. Especially after the strange seclusion I've experienced recently.

"Maybe reduce the collisions, though," Josh offered, grinning. "Sounds like you almost got shanked by the diversity hire from the wrong side of the tracks."

I rolled my eyes and drank another long draw of beer. "Seriously. Like, check your privilege, princess; I have econ in five minutes."

My overdone falsetto whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Rehashing the experience made me feel lighter. So who cared if a temperamental scholarship kid flipped out on me? Just another anecdote to tell when hanging out with the guys late at night.

We quickly moved on to other issues, such as which ladies James intended to pursue this semester and how terribly Josh would do on his law school applications. The crazy bookworm girl vanished from my mind altogether.

Until a few days later, when I went into my favorite campus coffee shop, I was prepared to woo my way into a free drink from the barista. Only to be cut short by the sight of a familiar, small figure speaking with Brandon at the pickup desk.

Everything came racing back when I saw those untidy black hair and an enormous thrift shop cardigan. Crazy Scholarship Girl in the flesh. What were the odds?

She looked up, mid-laugh, and those large eyes fell on me. Her grin faltered. Before she could react further, I diverted my attention and moved to the other end of the counter. I was in no way coping with another public outburst.

As I made my purchase, I felt her gaze sear into my back. My neck prickled. But as I cast a quick glimpse over my shoulder, she had already left with Brandon into the October sunlight.

I convinced myself that I didn't care what people thought of me as I brought my drink outdoors. So Brandon quickly became buddies with Some Rando Yelly Girl. So, what? Was I meant to be disturbed by them talking about our sidewalk spat? Please. I had more important things to worry about, like midterm cram sessions and which Halloween party to go to this weekend.

Nonetheless, I found myself reflecting on the interaction much longer than I should have. anything about Crazy Girl's burning stare made me want to do anything just so she could rip into me again...

It was dumb. I didn't know her. Our paths intersecting at random did not have to symbolize anything.

Only suddenly it seemed like she was everywhere—chatting up baristas when I stopped for coffee, departing classes down the hall from mine, and crossing the quad beside me. A persistent recollection of our angry meeting hangs around the borders of my perception.

Maybe the novelty of someone truly hating me kept me preoccupied. Or just ennui, which is exaggerating little issues. In any case, I vowed to push the odd scholarship girl out of my mind permanently.

Every time we crossed paths, she would scowl at me for no apparent reason. Fine with me. It's not like we went in the same circles anyhow. These days, females come and go quicker than I can remember their names. There was no use spending brain space on one crazy lady with a vengeance, no matter how surprisingly seductive her fierce anger was.

I had sexier, saner gals vying for my attention. What did it matter if she despised me? The sensation was undeniably reciprocal. And I had many better things to do than discuss petty drama with random bookworms.