I had a professor who always said "if being a college student doesn't give you enough material to write about, you're not paying attention". I remember that because of Dani, who had it written across the front of her notebook in our first year. Dani is the one I think of first, and last, out of all of those years. When I first met her, she had this kinda cutesy short haircut and freckles, she was short, and she always wore t-shirts that looked a little too big on her. I think she finished high school early, so there was a little bit of an age gap that might have made it harder for her to fit in. Which wasn't her fault, and she could hang with the smart kids, for sure - she and I made up part of the regular front row in one of those giant lecture-hall English classes in our first year, and she was always the one with the smart questions during class. It always gave me a smile when she took the seat next to me and we got to catch up before class. She was a sweetheart. And hey, I was a college-aged guy; I'm sure I fantasized about ripping those jeans and t-shirts off of her body, just like I did with every other girl on campus. But I thought of her as more of a little sister, and probably treated her like one. Which means I should have been paying more attention.
There was one morning before class, when we were talking about how we'd spent the weekend. Nothing exciting, but I thought she was being a little vague. With a little prodding, though, I got it out of her that she and a friend had spent the weekend doing with fanfiction. She had that sheepish look people get when they're not sure whether they'll have to explain their hobbies or defend them, but I tried to give her my best 'knowing smile' and asked what her fandom was. I'd had a few friends who were fanfic people. If I remember right, she and her buddy were writing a crossover fic between Dr. Who and another show I'd never watched, so the conversation didn't go too deep. But I think she was relieved that she'd finally outed herself on that hobby, without losing any points with her cool, older college friend. Cute, right?
Before long, she was regularly emailing me stories she was working on, and she took the seat next to me every day in class so we could talk about them. It's great, when you're a college student and everyone is just trying to look cool and bored all the time, when somebody has real excitement for something, and doesn't mind sharing it with you. I knew Dani was a good writer already, but I liked getting in on her imagination, too - there was something almost intimate about getting to peek at those hints of personality that showed through in her writing. She said herself that you can do things in fiction you'd never do in real life.
One Friday, she sat down next to me with a look I couldn't quite place. Smiling, but definitely nervous about something. She hovered next to me without sitting down.
"Hey, Dani." I smiled.
She blurted out "did you get the last thing I sent you?" and she was literally biting her lip in anticipation. I had to think about it. "The one you emailed me Wednesday?"
"No, this morning."
"Oh, then no. I didn't check my email yet."
She relaxed by a few degrees. "Oh, you don't have to." she said. "I just... I dunno. It is what it is. Thought you might want to read it."
"I will! I like your stories." I was trying to be reassuring, but not sure what I was reassuring, exactly, so I was out of the loop.
"Hey, Dani, want to sit down?" I smiled. She gave a little laugh and, finally, un-tensed a little. The room was filling up, and I took out my phone while Dani got her notes out and got ready for class. There was her email.
'Weightless in your arms, and hungering...' it started. '...will you kiss my feet when I have walked on fire...'
A wiser man would have played this differently, I know. Just believe me that I hadn't connected her nervousness with the fact that she'd emailed me, probably on an instantly-regretted impulse, a love poem. I was as oblivious to crushes as any young guy, so I just didn't get that the situation was delicate. "Is this a poem?" I asked her. She turned, saw me reading off of my phone, and blushed bright red. "I didn't know you wrote poetry, too."
Maybe there was a second where I could have turned it around - either given her the reaction she wanted, or played it cool. But whatever she needed from me then, I didn't have a clue. "You really don't have to read that." she said, almost in a whisper. "It's stupid." She looked like she wished she could have sunk into the floor. I don't think she let herself look in my direction for the rest of that class period, no matter how many times I tried to catch her eye. After the lecture, I had to run to catch her on the way out of the building.
"Hey, Dani?"
She shook her head, embarrassed. "Just forget it."
"Dani. Really. It's okay." But she clutched her notebooks to her chest and marched off into the parking lot. She wasn't in class the next day. For all the good it did, I emailed her just to ask if she was okay, and I got a response a day later (unusually long to wait, for her,) saying she was embarrassed, but fine, and could we just forget the whole thing. I still saw her in class, that semester, but she didn't take the seat next to me any more. She had other friends, and I guess I did, too. I don't think Dani and I had a real conversation for the rest of the year. Then, the class was over. We went our separate ways.
I know it really could have ended there. But college is full of second chances, isn't it? You don't have to be psychic to see that if you take a first-year class with someone, you're probably going to cross paths again in four years. About a year after that English class, there was a Spring semester when I couldn't get into a class I needed, but I still needed 3 more credits to keep my scholarship, so I took the last resort and enrolled in "self-guided fitness": You show up at the gym for 2 hours a week, and get your A. So, I spent that couple of hours a week on a treadmill, trying to be subtle about checking out all the spandex asses on the girls working the stationary bikes. There are worse ways to spend your tuition. And then, one day, I saw Dani again.
She was walking out of the gym while I was just working up a sweat, and I think we both noticed each other at the same time, because I caught her smiling at me before she even remembered to be nervous or shy or anything.
"Dani! How've you been?" I asked, distracted for the moment from the treadmill. Her cheek curled up in a half-smile, and she said "I've been okay." She looked happy to see me, which was a bigger relief than I thought it would be.
"You got stuck in fitness too, huh?" I said.
She laughed a laugh I hadn't heard in a long time. Something about it, just for a second, made me forget about all the yoga pants and halter tops in that room. Dani had grown up a little. She'd let her hair grow a little longer, and in a sweaty tee at the end of a workout, she sure didn't look like a kid any more. But there was still plenty of that cuteness I remembered. Still those freckles across her cheeks. But she looked - I don't know. Like she was more comfortable in her skin, somehow. Her gym shorts showed off her hips a little, and she was doing a little stretch that brought out all of her body's curves. Maybe I stared too long.
"Yep. Last resort fitness, right?" Then she gave me a wave, and said she'd see me around.
The next week, our schedules aligned again, and this time I ran into her on my way out of the gym when she was leaving, too.
"Good workout?" she asked as I caught up.
