Southern California is cold.

It sweeps through his dark hair, nips at his cheeks, and has him shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, curling his fingers into the warm retreat of the fabric. He spares a glance at the door of his dormitory, almost cringing at what he would find if were to re-enter the apartment. His roommate, Eric McGorrill, is the typical wannabe-frat boy. This morning, however, he'll be hungover and waking up in a pool of his own blood (beer bottles don't break on the averge stomach), and other bodily fluids that Cody Jackson would, really, rather not speak of. It was bad enough that he had been woken up by some half-drunk idiot had called him at three in the morning to come haul Eric home from a party - to which, he was not invited - and he prefers not to be present when that beer bottle, along with several other regrets, comes back to bite him in the ass.

His decision had come the moment he had to drag Eric through the door - as soon as the idiot woke up, he'd escape for coffee and breakfast, and leave Eric to sort himself out. Eric is a good friend, don't get him wrong, but he's also a bit of an idiot. He keeps his eyes focused on the cobblestone sidewalk that leads to the coffee cart, needing a caffeine fix after his expedition.

Of course, when one is more focused on the random patterns that can be found in a cobblestone sidewalk, one tends to not see a person coming from the other direction and inevitably, bodies will collide. His arms shoot out and wrap around the small, female body he had crashed into to keep her from toppling to the ground. When he finally looks up, he holds back the urge to laugh at the sight before him. Oh, she is beautiful but he could tell that the previous night had been particularly memorable for her.

Her black hair is pulled back into a matted knot at the back of her head and her brown eyes - dark, rich brown, he notes - are bloodshot. There is the faintest ring of smudged mascara around her eyes and her lipstick has rubbed off - the only trace of it is the light smudge on her cheek. Her clothes were tattered. He thinks she might have been wearing a black shirt and jeans at some point in time but he's not quite sure.

"Whoa, hey!" he chuckles hoarsely, voice still a soft rasp from sleep, hefting her back up into the proper, upright position. "You alright?"

"Fine." she nods, grinning wryly. "I'm going to kill Taylor Hagan, but I'm fine."

Her smile is pretty, and when he meets her eyes again, it throws him for a loop.

Or three.

He can ignore the overall visage of hungover sorority girl that she's currently presenting for the world, if she'll smile and look at him like that, again. It's been a while since any girl's even bothered to give him a second glance, much less look at him like he's sex. On legs.

"I'm Jackson." He rasps, holding her biceps.

She fumbles and trips over her words before her voice is once again her own and what comes out of her mouth is reminiscent of the squeak, one expects to hear from a timid little house mouse. Not a fully grown, slightly hungover college student. "M-Melissa."

"It's nice to meet you, Melissa." his smile is shy but he hopes it'll help her relax a bit. He spares a quick glance over her shoulder, noticing the small blonde that's approaching with two cups of coffee in hand. While he does hate to release her, having just met her, but he really has no interest in meeting any blondes before he's had at least three cups of coffee. And, a bowl of sugar coated cardboard. "I see your friend coming back. Enjoy your coffee, Melissa."

With that, he squeezes her arms and side-steps around her to get to the coffee cart.

He only turns back to her when he hears the squeak of a response she had managed before he's complete out of sight. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she links arms with the blonde and heads toward the women's dormitory, shaking her head in response to what must be a steady stream of questions.

"Coffee, black. Two sugars."

He pays the vendor and makes his way to the dining hall for that sugar coated cardboard. Although, he'll be making this last as long as possible because the last thing he feels like doing on a Saturday is dealing Eric and his various bodily functions and fluids.

In the back of his mind, he's secretly hoping to run into Melissa again.