The soft grey stones of Craven's first Magical University soaked in the summer heat. They were rough, but Larry couldn't help but feel joy at brushing his fingers across them. This was his second year, and he was quietly confident about his chances with the presentation. High marks here would set him up for a better class next year. Talent was a responsibility. He could work in a small shop over the break, allocating the seven --
"Larry! Have you got a minute?"
Squinting in the sun, Larry smiled goofily in recognition before heading over to his friend Sam, who was hanging with the rest of the group, at one of the picnic tables, which thankfully today weren't being rained on. Weather magic was tricky... Larry had actually worked with Sam on a project doing theoretical magic to make the summer last a little longer at the college, but every equation seemed to end in more problems. They'd ended up deciding it was easier to just enjoy things while they lasted. They were all in their early twenties, with the study of magic being off-limits until you were over eighteen. Who'd trust anyone else with this stuff? Doesn't bear thinking about.
"Afternoon, all. So, what's up?" Larry stretched his skinny frame, yawning before sitting down.
"Christ, Larry. Interior Design got you up late again? Making sure all the shelves are the right colour?" asked Thomas, who'd dropped out of Larry's class to go look at beetles or some nonsense, but Larry held his tongue, not interested in taking the bait.
"Maybe it's a woman," smirked Rachel, twirling her black hair as she gazed into Larry's eyes.
"Ha. Rearranging her furniture. That'd be new." Thomas chuckled at his own joke. Larry laughed a little too, his lack of a love-life fairly well-tread territory at this point.
It wasn't that he wasn't attractive, not that he spent much time on his appearance. But with coursework, and studies... Larry had to admit, it had been a few years since he'd dated anybody. Or fucked. Or, god, even kissed... Sometimes he could swear, if Rachel wasn't dating Thomas now, with the way she looked at him...
Larry's quiet laughter turned into a groan, and he sunk into the table, running his hands through his mousy brown hair. "Urgh."
He felt Sam stretch to put their hand on his back. "You okay?"
"Urgh," continued Larry. "Fuck, he's right."
Parting his hands, Larry peeked through and glanced at his friends around the table. "I know I've not been very... Y'know. Social, and stuff..."
Sam's hand patted heavily and reassuring upon his shoulder.
"But, I just, with mum and dad and everything... I just want to make sure I'm not wasting this, you know? Like, with work and stuff..."
Sam leaned in. "We know. I'm sure Thomas didn't mean anything by it, we're just..."
"Listen, if you want to talk about wasting this opportunity," said Thomas, spreading his arm around Rachel, "I mean... It's not just work, mate! There are other things you can do with your time here."
Rachel smiled at her boyfriend as he squeezed her side.
"Look, if you're interested," she said, looking back at Larry with a serious face, "I met this lovely lady in a Lighting course a while back who seems equally... Work-focused and, based on her Facebook posts, maybe just slightly frustrated and ready to fill a Larry-shaped hole in her life, I could set you up?"
Larry pushed himself up off the table, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "This... And how long have you had this friend of yours, waiting in the wings?"
Sam laughed. "Larry, we love you. But Jesus, you've got to get laid."
At about eight o'clock the next evening, Larry sat down on the floor by the steps in the University's student union area. Dressed in blue skinny jeans with a brown belt, a faded white t-shirt and green converse, he hoped the work he'd done on his hair would make up for his kinda basic wardrobe.
His butt. His butt was a good feature, he remembered Rachel commenting on that. Fuck. Should he stand up? He literally just sat down. He took out his phone to check the time, hands shaking slightly. New message from Rachel: "She's on her way in now. Red hair!" Larry glanced up at the doorway, trying to breathe and calm down a bit.
Suddenly, he felt a presence as someone leaned in from his left.
"Um... Hi, um... Larry?"
He looked up, dazed at the source of the sweet voice.
She smiled, a shock of bright dyed red frizzy hair drifting over her face as she leaned over forward, grinning. She held out a hand, which Larry glanced dumbfounding towards, trying really hard not to notice her low-cut vintage top and the way her bra pushed her tits up to almost spill out of it. Fuck. Back to the face. Okay... Gorgeous makeup, sweet red lips -- don't stare, fuck he hoped he wasn't imagining the look she was giving him. He took her warm hand like a lifeboat and stammered.
"Uh, uh yeah, hey! Uh, Michelle, right?"
She pulled up a chair and sat opposite, her short plus-sized figure wriggling into the seat. He reached for a bottle of water he'd been drinking from earlier, hoping to clear his head and glad that he wouldn't have to stand up and go to the bar.
"That's me. I do Tactile Projections," she smiled, her fingers twirling as she conjured a rose. "For example."
Larry stared in awe at the rose, taking it into his hands and feeling the brush of the soft green leaves, the harsh prick of the thorn. "This is amazing... I thought Tactile was all army stuff, projecting force and all that?"
"Not if you've got the imagination..." Michelle purred, "And yes, that is why I haven't dated in a while."
Larry blushed, almost choking on his sip of water. He could definitely see how someone as adept as her could find ways to occupy her time.
