From when my parents first dropped me off at Loughran Hall, where I was immediately shuffled to my dorm room to dump my suitcase, the day has been non-stop.  I would give up my best set of charcoals if Blonde Ponytail ended the tour now.

“So that’s pretty much it, any questions?” She looks at our group and I internally plead the other freshmen to remain silent.  Satisfied, she finishes: “Okay, you’re all free to go.  Good luck!”

I am so not giving up my charcoals.

Just as the crowd of eager freshmen disperses I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.  As I pull it out, the bright green Safe Walk keychain falls to the ground.  “Hey,” I say into the phone as I lean down to pick it up.  Tucking the keychain back into my pocket, I ask:  “What’s up?”

“So?  Where’s the big frat party tonight?”  Roy asks.  For the past week he’s been hounding me to figure out when the fraternity keg parties begin.  I already reminded him about five times last week that Marywood didn’t have any fraternities; yet he still insists on asking.

Sighing, I shake my head, grateful that he can’t see my annoyance.  “There’s no frat parties, Roy.  I told you that before.”

“But did you ask?”

“Yes,” I roll my eyes.  “I did find out, though, that Perpetual Help Hall is having some welcome back party tonight.” 

“Awesome.”

Perpetual Help Hall is a men’s residence that houses fourteen.  At least that’s what Blonde Ponytail had told us.  I remember snickering at the name when we’d walked by it, thinking how it was the home of men… Men who apparently needed perpetual help.  “But I don’t know if we’re supposed to-”

“Supposed to what, babe? C’mon!  Don’t you want to go to your first college party? There’ll probably be beer and besides, the Penguins have a pre-season game!”

“Fun,” I say dismissively. All I want to do is sleep, much less drink beer and watch hockey tonight.

“C’mon Pammie, it’ll be awesome. You know I can’t go without you,” he whines.  This is true.  Roy decided against attending Marywood in favour of taking time off to earn some money.  Or at least that’s what he told his parents.  The little known story is that Marywood, the only place Roy applied to out of sheer confidence, actually rejected his application.  I’d offered to defer my acceptance until the following school year, but Roy had insisted that I go without him.  And so, here I am.

“Fine,” I say, relenting. 

“You’re the best!”  He declares.  “Did you want me to bring Jen’s I.D?”  Jen was Roy’s 21 year old sister.  His sister who looks nothing like me, but because a bouncer- who must have been blind- had accepted it once, Roy figures it can work again.

“I guess…”

“So, I’ll pick you up at your dorm then?”  His excitement is evident in his voice.

“Sure.”  I flip my phone closed and toss it into my purse. 

As I make my way back to Loughran Hall my eyes search each of the new faces that pass me. I’m nervously drawn to the taller freshmen boys, seeking out a particular familiar face.

I’m not entirely certain why I’m looking for Jim; it’s been almost two months since our chance encounter at Home Depot and I’m not even 100 percent sure he’s even a student here. What I do know is that when I left Home Depot with Roy that July afternoon I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I can’t really explain it.  I certainly couldn’t even explain it to Cathie or Bridget.  One day, while we sat crammed in Roy’s truck, I’d pointed Jim out as he pushed the carts into the store.  After the girls had sighed their dramatic sighs and punctuated it with a “he’s cute in a dorky sort of way,” they reminded me that I was in a long term relationship with Roy.  One where I saw us married after college; him working in a warehouse somewhere while I taught art at a local middle school.  

I didn’t dare walk into Home Depot after that. 

After the night that I’d—for the briefest of seconds – closed my eyes and saw Jim’s wide, excited smile, I couldn’t bring myself to wait outside the Home Depot for Roy.

And I didn’t dare return to the store after I imagined it was Jim, not Roy, kissing me on my doorstep the night of Kenny’s ball hockey tournament. 

All I had with Jim was one fifteen minute conversation where we played one prank and now I can’t get him out of my mind.

***

I stare at the black X on the back of my hand.  Just as I’d figured, Jen’s I.D. didn’t work.  The senior who was checking I.Ds at the door saw right through the fact that I didn’t have jet black hair and brown eyes and therefore I’m branded as being underage.  Roy faired much better as he was able to successfully pass off Kenny’s.  This is no shock to me; Roy has it easy. He and Kenny share the same reddish brown hair and blue eyes.

Despite the black mark, within seconds an oversized red party cup is shoved into my hand.  Grateful, I take a swig from the concoction and discover a mix of vodka and cranberry.

“Babe, I’m going to check out the game in the basement.  You gonna be okay?” I nod and take a second gulp of vodka and cranberry as Roy gives me a quick peck on the top of my head and disappears into the crowd of drunken students

I let my eyes roam the room.  The thumping of the dance music seems to almost rattle the house.  The guys who aren’t watching the game are largely kissing a variety of scantily clad freshmen females. I even recognize some from my residence floor.

I bite the corner of my lip and look down at my outfit; feeling suddenly underdressed-- or rather overdressed-- my jeans, hooded sweatshirt and pink jacket out of place amidst the miniskirts and halter tops. 

A seat on a nearby couch opens up and I quickly dash to secure it.  Comfortably squished beside a couple who are folded into the corner making out, I bring my red cup to my lips, grateful for a diversion. 

In what seems like hours, but surely couldn’t have been more than half an hour, Roy comes barreling into the living room a laughing smile on his face as he sees my displeasure sitting next to the couple.

“Nice,” Roy says in approval, handing me a second red cup.  This time there’s a little more vodka and a lot less cranberry. 

“Hey I met this guy downstairs who said he could hook me up with a job at his work’s warehouse--”

An explosion of noise erupts from the kitchen interrupting Roy, as several football jocks drag a plastic table into the living room. 

Roy leans back, roaring from laughter.  “Sweet,” he declares. “Beer bong!” He pumps his fist into the air and hands me his bottle of Coors.  “Hold this will ya?”

I nod and take another gulp from my red cup as I watch him high five the jocks.

“Pack-er! Pack-er!” A mildly balding senior takes the tube in his hands and brings it to his mouth as Roy stands on a chair funneling beer.  “Pack-er! Pack-er!”  The crowd eggs him on.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and take another swig from my red cup.  Realizing its empty, I begin to work on Roy’s beer. 

“Roy! Roy!” My eyes widen as Roy brings the same tube to his own lips. A look of disgust crosses my face as the beer begins to be funneled into his mouth. With a roar, he sputters, beer dripping from his chin and a cheer erupts.  My eyes narrow as I watch Blonde Ponytail appear from the crowd and plant a brief kiss on Roy’s lips.  His drunken hand slides down her back and he holds her waist, cheering on the next beer bong victim.

I want to toss my empty red cup at him.  I want to pull at Blonde Ponytail’s ponytail.  I want to pour Coors across his shirt that he borrowed from Kenny.  But instead I dizzily climb to my feet and push my way to the door and down the front steps.

My eyes blurry with tears, I can barely distinguish which way to turn. My head is spinning, likely from all the drinking, and I can’t remember which way is Loughran Hall. I jam my hand into my purse, searching for my campus map.  I sigh in frustration, realizing that I’ve left the map on my bed because I’d stupidly decided to change purses at the last minute.

The frigid fall air does nothing to alleviate my stinging tears as I reach into my coat pocket for some tissues. My fingers curl around something hard and plastic, and I pull it out to find the Safe Walk keychain.  Remembering the lecture from Blonde Ponytail earlier, I punch the number into my cell phone.

“Safe Walk, how can I be of assistance?” Chirps the voice on the other end.

Sniffling, I manage a response.  “I need someone to… escort…”  I chuckle bitterly at my inane choice of words. “I mean… someone to walk me home…”

“No problem.  From where to where?”

“I’m at Perpetual Help Hall and I need to get back to Loughran.”

“No problem.  Someone should be by in about five minutes in a golf cart.”

“Thanks,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. 

As I wait, I dry my eyes and will myself to regain composure. 

“Hey Pammie!” I hear Roy’s voice boom from behind me, laughing.  I turn and find his arm draped around Blonde Ponytail, the other cradling a case of beer.  “They’re starting the jell-o shots?  You in?”

Stunned, I shake my head.  My mouth wide, I glare at him.  Out of the corner of my eye I see a golf cart driving down the street.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I scream at him.

“Pam?” He calls back from the porch.  “You’re not PMSing on me again are ya?”

Overcome with anger, I turn and march toward the golf cart.  I feel as though I have tunnel vision; I hear nothing around me and see only the empty seat next to the driver. 

My stomach lurches as I try to drunkenly concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. 

“Careful there,” the driver says, grabbing my arm to help me into the golf cart.  “You wouldn’t want to catch any flies.”

“What?”  I can’t possibly be so drunk that the English language has become muddled.

“You’ll catch flies if you’re not careful,” he repeats.

For the first time since I climbed into the golf cart, I turn to take a good look at the driver.  There, with his infectious smile staring ahead at the road, is Jim. 

Jim from Home Depot. 

The Jim from Home Depot that I had so craftily avoided all summer long.

“Jim?” I say, stupidly.

“Yeah?” 

I shake my head, silenced.  My mouth opens and closes like a fish struggling for air.

“You okay?” He asks.  “You look… I dunno, no offence or anything, but you look like you’ve been … upset.”

I swallow hard, but remain silent, unsure how to answer. 

“I mean… you don’t have to tell me or anything.  I mean…I sort of saw Roy with Trina.”

“Trina?” I ask.

“Yeah, you know… Blonde Ponytail…”

I laugh in spite of myself.

“Blonde Ponytail?”

“Well, ‘cause she always wears that stupid ponytail,” he explains with a chuckle.  “That’s the name the guys back at Madonna Hall call her.  She’s a… err… frequent visitor, I guess.”

“Great,” I say sarcastically.

“Listen, I didn’t mean… I was just….” He pauses, pursing his lips.  “I mean… Sorry?”

“S’okay, no big deal.  Wouldn’t be the first time Roy’s gone and done something stupid,” I answer, disheartened. “So you work at Safe Walk?”  I ask, attempting to change the subject.

“Yeah.  Tonight’s actually my first night on the job.”

“Pays well?”

“Nah,” he answers with a chuckle.  “It’s volunteer, actually.”

“Noble.”  I manage a smile; the throbbing in my head quickly beginning to subside.

“That’s me, noble Prince Charming… rescuing ladies in Perpetual Help…” He turns his head for a moment and gives me a quick wink and a lopsided, mischievous smile.

“Wait a minute!”  I poke my finger into his arm. “Ladies in Perpetual Help?” 

“That’s where you were, weren’t you?” He teases.

“Yeah, I guess, right?” I retort with a laugh. “I bet you use that line on all the girls, though.”

His smile fades and the golf cart slows to a stop.  “No,” he says simply.

If I think about the implication of his response, I’m fairly certain everything around me will start to spin again. 

“We’re here,” he says quietly as he exits the golf cart to help me from my seat.

“Thanks.” As I step from the cart, my hand lingers a bit longer in his.  I turn my eyes upward and notice for the first time that his are an unusual shade of green.

“I like your eyes,” I say, all inhibitions seeming to disappear.

“Thanks,” Jim replies, shyly.

Suddenly, for a reason I can’t explain, my hands reach up to his face, lowering it to my own. Our lips meet, softly at first, until his palms slink around my waist, pulling me closer.  As his tongue flicks against my own, my fingers begin to inch through his hair. 

Just as the rest of his body begins to respond, he surprisingly wedges me away from him.

“I think you’re just drunk,” he says, breathless.

“You’re just drunk?” I ask stupidly.  “But then that would make you a drunk driver…” I tease pointing to the golf cart. 

If I pretend the moment didn’t happen, does that make it true?

“I’m not drunk,” Jim chuckles, any tension that may have developed between us disappearing. “You’re drunk.”

I think for a moment, processing what just happened between us.  “Right,” I say finally, my voice quiet. “Thanks for taking me home, Jim.”

He tilts his head and smiles politely.  “Anytime Pam.”

I nod and turn to head into Loughran Hall. At the last second, I stop; my heart is beating so loud I’m surprised it hasn’t awoken the residents.

“Jim?”  I call out.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not that drunk, you know.”

Before I can stop myself, I’ve closed the distance between us.  My arms wrap around his neck; his find their place at my waist. Our mouths battle, wet and hungry with desire; he pulls me close against him. The chill of the September night is forgotten as his warm hands inch their way under my jacket and sweater.

Despite the fog of emotions cursing through me, I’m somehow able to recognize that kissing Jim feels right, comfortable even.

But I’m with Roy and no matter how right it feels kissing Jim, it just isn’t right.

This time it’s me who pushes him away, breathless.

“I can’t,” I manage to say. The words feel foreign and unlike me.

“I know,” Jim says, defeated, nodding his head. 

As I’m about to walk up the steps into Loughran Hall, I hear Jim call my name.

“Hm?”

“See ya around Pam,” he says with a charged smile.

“See ya, Jim.”