We find our way to a quiet corner of the big house. Not that it was quiet anywhere, the bass thumping loudly from the basement bar. But up here, sitting on the dining room floor leaning on the wall, we can hear each other.

We sip our drinks, a beer for me, a plastic cup of Everclear kool-aid punch for her. She tells me about her art and design classes, I try to describe thermodynamics. Different worlds, but an attraction is there.

This is not the typical college party, not for me. The hosts are at a tiny private liberal arts school known for a good basketball team. To make the party bigger, they invited a couple dozen of us from the engineering school a few miles away, and put up posters at the fashion design school. It was a mixing bowl.

She’s a junior, a year ahead of me, and wants to design clothing. She’s pretty in that artsy way, a style I rarely saw in my hometown. Her hair is a dirty blonde, in a fashionable bob cut. She’s pale, with smoky blue eyes, and more lower lip than upper, giving her a natural pout. Her lipstick is dark, not at all right for her hair and eyes. She’s wearing a close fitting ribbon style necklace, black or a dark maroon, also wrong for her color. Her dress is a foresty, deep green, mid thigh covered, with half sleeves. Read more »