"I think I hate Texas," I muttered in annoyance as I ducked my head down low enough to see the signs out of the windshield of my car. I was lost in the middle of the
Lone Star State
, rolling my eyes as I thought of the history behind that nickname.
I could be at home right now, or if I have to be this far away from home, why couldn't it at least be California, or Florida? Why am I here?
I asked myself these questions for the millionth time since landing in Austin yesterday.
Oh right, because two prestigious universities here have offered me extremely good opportunities to finish my undergraduate degree and be on a fast track for my doctorate.
I didn't exactly expect my applications for transfer into these two universities to come back with anything but rejection, but since both of them had accepted the initial application and invited me to come see their campus before pursuing the application further, I decided to make the trip down and kill two birds with one plane, or something like that.
So there I found myself, a Canadian city boy from Montreal, driving through Texas from Austin, toward the home of Texas A&M, College Station.
It was already dark out, having landed in Austin around lunchtime and spending the better part of the afternoon being interviewed and inspecting the campus of the University of Texas at Austin, the other school to which I had applied. All I wanted by then was to get to where I was going, settle in, maybe grab a drink to unwind, and then hit the sack.
About a half hour more of driving along Texas roads I saw something indicating where I wanted to be. "Finally," I breathed, as I took the next turn off and headed into the small city of College Station.
As I was driving through the town looking for a motel I could stay at, I drove past the campus of Texas A&M University. Certainly was hard to miss, seeing as how it seems to take up a decent chunk of the city. Then again, it
was
named College Station for a reason, I guessed.
I found some cheap inn and got myself situated. I dropped my stuff on the bed and went to take a quick shower, changed and headed back out. I had seen a pool hall across the street when I was pulling into the inn, so headed in that direction to get my much needed drink.
If I move here, I hope I don't become an alcoholic
, I thought to myself as I walked toward my destination.
I walked into the place and was greeted by loud, but not deafening music and conversation and a generally warm college-style atmosphere. That was pretty much the sort of place I frequented back home with my friends when we went out after classes or work, and I liked the place already. I got to the bar and ordered my drink, then turned to survey the place.
As I looked around the room, I noticed one girl in particular who was playing pool. She was, in a word, stunning. Everything from her shoulder length curly auburn hair to her deliciously curvy hips spelled gorgeousness, and I couldn't help but stare at her as she leaned over to sink the eight ball, inadvertently giving me a glimpse of her voluptuous breasts. After sinking the ball and winning the game, she glanced up and caught me with my eyes on her.
I felt the scarlet rising on my neck and felt like a deer in the headlights. She smiled at me—was that amusement I saw in her smile? After a brief moment of eye contact, I tore my gaze away, as if hoping this would hide the fact that I had been staring.
I turned back toward the bar and my drink and took a generous sip of it. I don't usually stare at girls, and I most certainly don't get caught doing it. I felt a brush against my arm as I set my drink back down and I turned to look what caused the contact—it was the same girl I had just leered at.
She was leaning over the bar with her hands pressed against the edge so the bartended could hear her over the din of the music and half-shouted, "Two of whatever he's having," pointing in my direction.
She slid one of them toward me and lifted hers, raising her voice so I could hear, "To stolen glances!" I half grinned, half grimaced, still slightly embarrassed at having been caught staring at her cleavage, though she seemed to be taking it well. I figured it wasn't a new thing, considering how generous her chest was. I looked into her eyes as I took a sip of my drink, and took a moment to appreciate how bright the green of her eyes was, even in the low light of the room.
After drinking hers, she leaned in closer to me so she didn't have to shout as loud, "Most guys don't look away, you know. They just keep staring. It's refreshing to know someone around here has some semblance of decency."
"Maybe that's because I'm not from here. I'm from Canada, and I'm only here for the night," I replied, smiling a bit, still vaguely surprised that she was sharing a drink with me. That sort of thing never happened to me—usually I asked to buy the girl a drink, and more often than not, she turned me down. Maybe it was the location.
"Well then, that probably explains everything. I always heard that Canadians were excessively polite, but I hadn't heard they were so cute," she grinned her gorgeous smile at me when she noticed how red I was getting. I couldn't believe how strong she was coming on, and I had a hard time figuring out what I should do.
So I played it honest.
"I have to say, you're surprising the hell out of me and I have no idea what to do here," I admitted, still feeling hot under the collar of my shirt; it was very hard to keep my eyes from wandering back down to her chest while she was standing this close. They were either the most spectacular pair of breasts I'd ever seen, or that was one hell of a bra doing the work. "And I don't even know your name."
The green-eyed girl leaned in close to me, her lips almost brushing against my ear as she whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "Darcy." She drew the name out long and slow, letting me feel her warm breath tickle my sensitive ear, and I heard the gentle Texas drawl in her voice for the first time. She leaned back away from me a bit with a smirk, "And you can buy me another drink, for starters," she laughed as she finished off the one she had, and I did the same.
I grinned back at her and stuck my hand out, "My name's Chris," she shook my hand with her much smaller one, and I couldn't help but notice how amazingly soft her hand was. I half-wondered to myself how it would feel elsewhere. After ordering another round of drinks for us, we got to talking.
Darcy told me she was a local student, going to A&M in a nursing program, and I found out she was almost exactly my age. She was from Austin, too, and wasn't exactly the type of person someone from where I was from thought of when you said Texan. I told her what I was doing in Texas, and she said she'd be happy to show me the ins and outs of campus life if I did end up going to A&M.
The conversation with her was easy flowing, and I was having a great time with her. After a few drinks, I had even stopped being so shy. Not that I'm an uggo or anything, but what can I say, hot girls don't usually talk to me like this.
"Come on," Darcy said over the music, and took my hand, tugging me away from the bar, "let's play a game."
She led me over to the pool table, giving me the first chance to look at her ass, and it definitely measured up to her other features. Perfectly curvy, matching the rest of her, it wasn't too big but it was shaped like an upside down heart, hugged nicely by her snug-fitting jeans.
"I'll tell you what," she said as she began to rack up the balls, "let's make the game interesting." I grabbed a cue and moved close to hear her suggestion, "Whoever wins gets to ask the loser a personal question. It can be anything," she flashed a somewhat mischievous grin and looked at me through the curls of her hair, revealing those bright green eyes before taking up her position at the opposite end of the table and making the break; she sunk two solids right away. I realized right then that I was so screwed.
It was obvious from the get go that Darcy was a much better player than I was. I managed to get in a few lucky shots, sinking most of my balls, but she had a much better, more fluid style of play. She didn't have to try as hard to make her shots, it came much more naturally. Before long, she only had the eight ball left to sink and I was still down two balls. Despite losing, I definitely didn't mind playing with her. The light banter between us was fun, and every time she leaned over to make a shot I stole another glance at her chest. I couldn't help it; they were practically spilling out of her top. She probably caught me looking, but didn't seem to care.
I was about to make my next shot, which was a tough one I would have to hit off a bank, when she came up behind me, and pressed herself into me, taking my arms and pushing them into a new position. "You're too stiff. You have to relax more. Here," she put her hand on the cue behind my hand and leaned against me more. I could feel her breasts pushing against my back and her breath tickling my neck as she looked over my shoulder. This definitely wasn't helping me relax, and Darcy's proximity to me was starting to make me feel warm under the collar again.
