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Coups de cœur Cultura
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The sun was rising, gently pouring into my bedroom. I stretched out in the sheets, feeling them beneath my fingertips. They felt better this morning – softer and nicer.
I had met a boy.
It sounded silly but I had. Not my type either. There was no way around the fact he was a dork. A nerd. Silly and flustered when he spoke to me, trying to make eye contact but failing because I was a cheerleader. And I loved it. He was so adorable that I couldn't stand it. On a whim and three drinks later, I had given him my number in hopes he'd contact me.
Now, with a slight hangover, looking at the tree outside my dorm bedroom (a single from some strings my dad had pulled with college admission), I felt excited. There had been boys since I started college, sure, but not like how I felt with when I had been talking to Chris.
It was strange because the instant attraction to him wasn't even purely physical. No, he was quite nerdy, more than any other guy I had been attracted to. But I had busted in late at the party and interrupted him in a spirited debate with one of my casual friends. And by interrupted I meant I had bashed into him when I wasn't looking, trying to get my coat off of me.
And now, here I was, hoping he would call me but worried that he would be too nervous. I glanced at my pile of textbooks. I didn't mean to think of Chris in stereotypes but he would be the type to hang out at the library, right? What if I tried to run into him? With no classes today since it was Saturday, I thought I'd try it out. If it went poorly, I could pretend I was there to study.
