Brittney: the First Encounter

Some men seduce women with next to no effort. They can speak to a lady, make her laugh, get her phone number, then go on a date with her. In some cases, they get even more. Those types of men were very social; they usually went to exclusive nightclubs, had large social circles, and dressed fashionably.

I wasn't like that; I've always been somewhat quiet and reserved. I didn't have—or want—a large circle of friends. I was fine with the one or two close comrades I had. I didn't care for nightclubs or fashion, either. Even when I was in high school, I enjoyed reading and writing far more than going to parties (not that I was cool enough to go to one). As a result of my unpopularity, I admired the beauties in my high school from afar, and watched as they paired up with guys who had more status and were more outgoing than I had been. Whenever I did muster up the courage to ask a young lady out, she would tell me that I made a better platonic friend than lover.

I decided to go to a small school in the South, where I could get a fresh start. At first, I loved the school. My university was known for having some very beautiful scenery, and some of the most attractive women around. I saw many young ladies going to school in very fine clothes, as though we were all part of some fashion Mecca. Not to mention, I heard many of the girls talk about going to the school's fitness center to keep themselves in shape (and I certainly noticed their efforts).

However, when I got there, much of the same dynamics were in play. Despite my attempts to be more outgoing, I still found myself relegated to outcast status. Even though some of the students didn't mind talking to me, many of them were interested in parties and drinking, as most college students tend to be. I suppose I was the atypical college student, since I wasn't partial to those things. As a result, I kept to myself, sitting alone, spending my spare time reading and writing.

Once most of the other college kids saw me acting this way, many of them called me nerd, geek, lame, and loser, insults I grew familiar with in middle school and high school. That made me retreat further into myself and literature. Eventually, on our small campus, I became the pariah. But, I was all right with that. I wasn't the sort of person to care what most people think of me.

I saw the countless beautiful women walking around my college campus, either walking with each other or holding hands with other guys—most of whom were in fraternities, on sports teams, or who were always at the parties, and sighed. Much like my earlier years, the girls weren't interested in a guy who didn't party or wasn't cool. Some girls were kind in rejecting me, while others were meaner. A handful ignored me altogether. Seeing such boundless beauty around the campus and knowing that none of the girls found me dateable was pure torture.

One Monday, I arrived ten minutes early to my morning biology class and took my seat at the front of the room on the left side, the seat closest to the door. I took my paper and pens out of my backpack, watching the other students enter and take their seats on the other side of the room towards the back, starting conversations and gossip as the seats became filled.

I heard a clicking noise outside the classroom, and immediately recognized it. Our school was known for having fashionable students—especially the girls—and there were always a few women who wore high heels to class, sometimes every day.

The clicking grew louder, and soon a pretty, slender, brown-skinned girl carrying one of those huge handbags passed through the doorway. She was wearing a white T-shirt, slim blue jeans, and as expected, a pair of beige high heels. I rose an eyebrow; I didn't recall seeing her before, but then again, since I sat in the front in my classes, I didn't know who most of the people in my classes anyway.

"Good morning," she said as she passed my desk, a bright smile on her face.

At first, I didn't respond. Even though I was in the South, and people usually spoke, I wasn't sure if she was speaking to me. There were a few times when I thought a girl was speaking or waving to me, but it was really another person near me. I said "good morning" back to her in a quiet tone, and she smiled a little brighter and went to her desk on the other side of the room, talking with some of the students over there.

The professor r came in a few seconds after her and began the lecture. I paid attention and took notes as usual, while the other students in the class goofed off. The teacher reminded us that we had a quiz on Friday and told us to study hard, which I always did, though I didn't need to; much of the information I still remembered from high school. After class, I gathered my things, then went through another day reading, writing, and studying.

On Wednesday, I got to biology fifteen minutes early and took a seat in my usual spot, then got ready, losing myself in thought. The other students walked through the door and took their seats, chatting amongst themselves. I just read the biology textbook, reviewing for the quiz, drowning out the background chatter.

In the distance, I heard the familiar clip-clop of high heels again. I'm not sure what it was about that sound, but it always got my attention. I looked up, and soon, the girl from the other day walked in, this time wearing a pair of high-heeled black boots.

Again, she looked me in the eyes and said "good morning," then asked me how I was doing, though it was really more of a formality; she didn't want to stay and talk. I told her I was doing fine, then she passed by and took her seat. The teacher came in and began the lecture, and I took notes the whole period.

That Friday, I got to class early and sat down in my usual seat. The other students came in, talking about how much they were dreading the quiz. Some of them went partying for Thirsty Thursday and forgot to study, I thought. I took my book out and reviewed for the quiz just in case, stopping only when I heard the sound of high heels on the wooden floor.

Once again, it was the slim, brown-skinned girl. This time, she walked a little closer to my desk when she passed by my desk.

"Good luck on the quiz!" she said, a smile on her face.

"Thanks, same to you," I said. She went over to her seat and started reviewing.

The professor came in and distributed the ten-question quiz. It could have taken me more than a few minutes to do; since I reviewed a lot for it, I knew the answer to every question on it. Then, after everyone was done, she started the fifty-minute lecture. Before we left, she reminded us that we had an exam next Friday. I jotted it down in my schedule before packing my belongings and walking out.

On the way to my next class, I thought about the svelte, attractive girl who had been greeting me all this week, then chuckled. She was just being friendly, I thought. She might have been one of those girls who was just friendly, even to people who weren't really popular.

Still ... I did like those greetings, as brief as they were. She had an immense elegance about her, and I loved interacting with beautiful women, no matter how brief it may be.

Though I wished our interactions would be longer ...

*****

Next Monday, I sat in my usual chair and got ready for class. The other students came in and started talking about the parties and clubs they went to over the weekend, laughing as they exchanged stories. I listened for the clicking of high heels, but didn't hear it this morning. When the professor came in and the class went on, I figured the girl who had been greeting me all those mornings wouldn't be coming to school today. Even though it was just a short cordiality, I still disliked not seeing a familiar, friendly (and beautiful) face.

We got our quizzes back, and as I thought, I had a perfect score. I put the quiz away and waited for the teacher to finish passing out the quizzes and when she finished with that and began the lecture, I made sure to pay attention to ready myself for Friday's test.

At 12:30, I finished lunch and walked to the library to do some studying. I went to the third floor and sat near one of the windows, enjoying the sunshine and looking out of the window every so often. Several students passed by, many of them girls wearing short, tight tube skirts, formfitting dresses, and sandals, laughing with each other or with tall, popular, athletic guys.

I figured I might as well review for the biology exam coming up. I took my biology book out and read the chapter corresponding to our test. A few minutes later, I heard someone say, "Excuse me." I looked up from my textbook and when I saw who it was, I smiled.

It was the girl who had been exchanging short pleasantries with me last week. She was wearing some blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and her black high-heel boots again, making her look leggy. I hadn't noticed her hair, but it was short, and though I preferred longer hair, I still felt that short hair suited her.

"You're in my biology class, right?" I nodded. "You were there today, right? Do you know what we did?"

"Yeah. I'll give you my notes." I fished inside of my backpack and took out a sheet of paper with my notes on it and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking it.

"It's no problem. You can hold on to it for a while, if you want. Are you going to be in class on Wednesday?"

She laughed. "Yes. I would have been in class today, but sometimes, the buses run late."

I rose an eyebrow. "Oh, you commute to school?" She nodded. "Hmm. I thought you lived on campus."

"No. I'm actually a transfer student," she said, then after a short pause, she laughed. "I'm sorry; I'm here asking you for favors and I haven't even introduced myself. That must make me look terrible."

"It's all right." I grew accustomed to that over the years.

"My name's Brittney," she said.

"I'm Marcus."

"Marcus, do you do well in biology?"

"Yeah. I haven't gotten less than a "B" on anything, and I got a perfect score on the quiz the professor just handed back. Why? Do you need some help?"

She nodded. "I do. I'm doing all right, but ... my grades in that class could be a little better."

Brittney handed me back my notes. "Do you think you could go over this with me? And maybe we could meet later this week to review some more as well. I mean, if you're not busy."

I looked at her and shrugged. "No, that's fine. I don't mind helping. Take a seat." I pointed to the chair next to mine, and Brittney lowered herself into it, crossed her legs, and took a notebook out of her bag, then we got to work. I spent a little over an hour reviewing biology concepts with her.

During our study session, I got a better look at her and found her appearance captivating. Brittney's brown-eyed gaze was most arresting, though gentle. I found a kind warmth shining within her eyes, and when she laughed, I noticed a smile that could brighten even the most dour of moods, along with some dimples. I complimented her on them, and to my surprise, she told me she was self-conscious about them.

"I'm not sure what you have to be self-conscious about," I said. "You're a beautiful girl, and you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders."

"You really think I'm beautiful?" she said, crossing her legs and leaning in.

I nodded, smiling.

"Well, thank you. I've always wished I had a bigger butt and breasts. I got teased a lot for being skinny."

I shrugged. "I find you attractive; I like slim, tall girls. To be honest, I find many different body types attractive."

She laughed at that, and said I was the typical guy.

"I'd also say that a part of a woman's beauty lies in her character, not just her appearance."

Brittney smiled. "You know, when you said that, I got the feeling you really meant it. Thank you, Marcus."

"Hey, what are you up to tomorrow?"

"I have two classes, but I'm done at one. Why?"

"Would you like to ... umm, meet in the student center and have lunch tomorrow?" I asked, looking at the floor as I did so.

Brittney smiled, and tore a piece from her sheet of paper and wrote her name and phone number on it, then passed it to me. "Sure, that would be fine. Just text me tomorrow."

"Oh, you spell your name differently; most people spell it B-R-I-T-T-A-N-Y."

"Yeah. My mother wanted to be different," she said. "Anyway, I should be going. I have to get to work, but I'm looking forward to hanging out with you."

I stood up as she did, and we embraced, then she picked her handbag up and walked away. I sat back in the chair for a moment, then went to the window and saw her walk across the street to the bus stop. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, then took my phone out and entered her information, then folded the piece of paper and slid it into my pocket.

Tomorrow afternoon couldn't come soon enough.

*****

I got out of class on Tuesday at 11:30. I waited an hour, then sent Brittney a text message, stating who I was and making sure we were still on for lunch. About a minute later, she sent one back stating that we were, and she'd be in the student center in a little bit. Another message came twenty minutes later, asking me where I was sitting. I told her I was sitting in the private booths near the entrance. I got my lunch, a burger and fries, then sat at the table towards the back of the room.

Moments later, I heard the clicking of high heels, then saw Brittney approach my table carrying two slices of pizza, a salad, and a smoothie on a tray. I stood up, set her tray down for her and gave her a hug, then told her she looked beautiful. She wore a small T-shirt, low-rise blue jeans, and some high heels, the shoes making her two heads taller than me.

"Thank you," she said. We both took a seat. "So, how has your day been going?"

"Pretty good. How about yours?"

"Wonderful."

I took the ketchup bottle and squirted some onto my plate, then dipped some fries into it. "Yesterday, you said you had a job. Where do you work?"

"I'm a receptionist in the local hospital. I'm a nursing major, so it was best for me to get a job seeing everything that goes on there. Also, when I graduate, they'll already know my name and face, and I'll already have a relationship with them.

"What about you? What's your major?"

"English, Business minor. I enjoy writing, and I want to learn the ins-and-outs of the publishing industry."

"That's really interesting." She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, you do seem like a writer. You have that intellectual look."

"I think it's the glasses."

We both laughed, then ate and engaged in further small talk. I wasn't a big fan of light conversation, but having it with a beautiful woman made it all the more tolerable. She did most of the speaking, thankfully. Most of the time, I just stared into her brown eyes or looked at her dimples, revealing themselves every time she smiled.

"How do you like our biology class?" she asked.

"It's cool, I guess. Why?"

"It's a lot of girls in there," she said. "I hear a few of the guys say they love all the eye candy in the room."

I thought for a moment. "I guess so ... I haven't noticed that much. Other than the professor, you're the only person I'm really familiar with. I don't pay much attention to everyone in the room."

Her eyes widened. "Really? I think it's hard to believe you haven't noticed all the girls in our class. It's like four or five girls to every guy. That's what they say the ratio is on campus."

I shrugged and ate the remains of my burger. After swallowing, I said that many of the girls at the school weren't my type.

"What is your type, then?" An expectant smile made its way across her face.

Lowering my voice and slouching a little in my chair, I said I liked girls who were beautiful, but also mature and insightful; I usually heard most of the girls in the school talk about partying, what one of the athletes was doing, or something like that. Most of them weren't really interested in building a connection outside of those realms.

"Not every girl's like that," she said. "I'm not much of a party girl."

"Yeah, you don't really seem like one to me."

Brittney paused, and ate one last forkful of salad, then sat up, flashing a half-smile.

"So ... I'm your type, then," she said.

"Well ... I ..."

She touched me on the arm. "Don't worry. I think you're really attractive, too. Believe it or not, a few of the girls I sit near say that you're really attractive."

"Really? Hmm," was all I could say.

"Why are you so quiet, by the way? You don't talk much in class unless you're responding to the professor."

Taking a deep breath and shrugging, I told her that was just how I am. I've always been quiet and focused on school, or writing.

"Okay, then. Listen, are you free tomorrow and Thursday around this time? It would be good if we could study for biology after class, and we could hang out too, if you want."

"Yeah, we can do that," I said. "Tomorrow, we can just meet in the library; I'll most likely be in the same place I was in on Monday, but I'll text you if someone else is in that spot and we have to find a new one."

"All right." Brittney got up and threw her handbag over her shoulder, then picked up her tray. I rose from my bench and picked up mine, then we both walked to a nearby trash receptacle and threw our plates away, then set the trays on top.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, giving me a hug. Caught off guard by the gesture, I put my arms about her and returned her embrace. When we parted, she looked into my eyes and giggled, then walked away, the clicks of her high heels echoing through the quiet atrium.

I stood there, watching her until she was out of sight, then went in the opposite direction, a smile on my face.

*****

On Wednesday and Thursday, the two of us ate lunch together and went over biology just as we planned, though in truth, Brittney was engaging me in more small talk than anything. She asked me a lot of things about myself: where I was from, what my childhood was like, how I was enjoying it at the school so far, what I liked to do in my spare time, and what my favorite foods were, among others. With all the questions she asked, it almost seemed as though I was the subject of study. I didn't have any issues with answering her questions, nor listening when she volunteered answers of her own.

Though we weren't as on task as we could have been, I still found our time together fruitful. In the process, I learned much about Brittney: she was from the South, although a different state. She went to school in New Orleans for a year. She grew up with both of her parents, and she was only two years older than I was.

The more I got to know Brittney, the more relaxed I became around her. She had a very refined, feminine disposition. She certainly fit the "Southern Belle" archetype: pretty, womanly, fashionable and cultured, yet she also had a down-to-earth vibe also. Most women of her caliber didn't usually talk to quiet, unpopular guys like me, but Brittney didn't have any issue. From all the questions, laughter, and subtle touches, she may have preferred it.

On Thursday, as our studying session wound down, I asked her if she would be ready for the test tomorrow.

"I should be," she said. "Thanks to you."

"We did more talking than studying," I said.

Brittney laughed. "Not like that's a bad thing. I like talking with you and spending time with you."

"Oh, thanks." I stared at her and gulped.

"Brittney, would you like to ... get together after the test tomorrow?"

I exhaled silently and closed my eyes for a second. Asking a woman out made me anxious. It took considerable effort for me to muster up the courage to do it.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, crossing her legs and smiling.