The “Asian Business Development” lecturer finished the 2 hour sermon with his usual sarcasm. “If any of you believe you can pass this subject with a less than well-researched report you are right. But those of you who want a job after this semester had better turn in something rather better. Goodnight and good luck with your careers.”
The inhabitants of the lecture theatre at 8 o’clock on this particular Friday night groaned their collective replies and rushed the single exit. My Friday nights had not changed in 12 weeks and so far this one was developing as usual. I had had the pure bad luck to be enrolled in a Friday night class every semester for the last 4 years and, thankfully, unless I failed something this was to be the last. I left the business building with an upbeat swagger and strolled towards the campus rec club knowing that I was but an hour’s work on my Asian Business report and 2 exams away from my degree and a decent income.
By the time I arrived at the club, the other ‘Friday nighters’ had already arrived. We were a group of unfortunates whose only common feature was to have a Friday night lecture, tutorial or prac group. The group varied in size from week to week, but tonight everybody was present with a party atmosphere already pervading. While we weren’t all graduating this semester, at least there was no more Friday night blues for at least 12 weeks and the Friday nighters were all in a celebratory mood.
“Hey Ryan, just in time for a round of tequilas!” I turned to see Jimmy, an engineering student and drinking buddy, swallowing the last of his beer. I could tell that his lecture had finished somewhat earlier tonight by the swaying motion he had already developed.
“No can do Jimster.” I replied. “I gotta hit the library for some last minute stuff and I don’t wanna have to come in over the weekend to do it.” Jimmy replied with a choice selection of words from his exemplary vocabulary of swear words and staggered off towards the bar with his girlfriend Sarah in tow. I never noticed their coy smile as Sarah pulled her mobile phone out of her handbag.
40 minutes and a couple of light beers later, I strolled out of the rec club and across the Kidney Lawn towards the library. Hopefully, if I could get what I needed in a hurry I could go back to help finish the party still building with the Friday nighters. For the last 4 weeks I had been frustrated by the absence of a text I needed to complete my report on the causes of the Asian financial crisis. Yesterday, I had received an email from the library saying that the required journal had been returned and they would hold it for me until tonight. I reached the library collections desk and gave my details to the tired-looking librarian behind the counter.
“I’m sorry young man, but the journal issue you want has been returned to the shelves.” A momentary voice of panic overcame me and I swallowed a nasty reply as I hurried off to the stairwell leading to the collections area, already knowing exactly where the journal should be. I hustled through the quiet tomb-like aisles of paper and turned into the area I was looking for only to come to a screeching halt. There was a girl sitting on the floor leaning over a journal and scanning its pages. I couldn’t help but stare as I stood there at the end of the aisle. She had slightly curly, red hair and was wearing a well-worn men’s business shirt unbuttoned at the top. From the angle I was standing at, I could see straight down her shirt to the tops of her hipster jeans, her nipples only just covered by the loose material.
I stood there admiring this stunning view until she suddenly became aware of my presence and with a startled gasp looked up at me. Her face was an amazing heart shape with huge green slightly almond-shaped eyes. I seemed to be glued to the spot as she smiled and gave me a nervous “Hi.” Somehow she seemed vaguely familiar to me.
“Umm…. Gday.” I stammered. The spoken words released me from my immobility and I turned towards the shelves, scanning for the almost forgotten journal that had bought me here in the first place. Gradually my searching led me to a spot right over where the girl was sitting, knees crossed, on the floor. I realised, almost with horror, the issue I was searching for would be on the bottom shelf right next to her. Again she looked up at me and spoke.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I could feel my face burning as my mind tried to frame a reply. You see, I had always had an unnatural fear of beautiful women. Well maybe not unnatural for a 15 year old adolescent, but I was a fully fledged 20 year old virgin and right at the worst possible moment my memory chips started to cycle through every nervous (and ultimately failed) attempt at sexual awakening.
“I’m looking for the September 98 issue of The Far Eastern Economic Review” I mumbled. “It’s got an article I need to pull some references from.” Again her face lit up into a veritable sunshine of a smile and I was lost somewhere between the sunlight of her green eyes and the night-time shadows under her teasingly half buttoned shirt. She lifted up the journal she was reading and showed me the open page.
“Is this the article you’re after?” I glanced at the title of the article. Causative Statistics of the Asian Financial Crisis. Damn. Fuck. “You must be doing the same report as me.” She said and smiled again.