Disclaimer…I don't own anything. Make love, not lawsuits

Author's Note…It's a HouseCuddy story! Blast to the past! The college years! Ok, rave, flame, find a happy medium, whatever. Extra points if you can guess the significance of "Geese!"

XXXxxxXXX

She had never, not in her entire life, seen a pair of eyes that green.

In her opinion, they were sharper than grass, greener than plants. Actually, they were the exact same color as the walls in her bedroom at home. Sweet Apple, it was called.

But Lisa Cuddy wasn't at home anymore. She was at college, Michigan to be exact. She had received eleven acceptance letters and she had ended up going here.

And, to her luck, so had he.

Confidently, she strode up to him and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Lisa Cuddy. Do you go here?"

He gave her a somewhat devious grin. "Depends. Do you?"

Her heart fluttered. "Yes."

"Well, that's nice for you. But I graduated last spring and I got a job here in the Admissions Office and if I paid you any kind of attention that even flirted with the line of professionalism, then my ass would be fired before you could say 'she wanted it too.' Are we clear?"

Cuddy's jaw dropped, and in that instant, it became very obvious to her that she would not do well here.

"I repeat, are we clear?"

"Crystal," she stammered.

"Good." His gaze caught that of a professor's, who was waving to him. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" He walked off, leaving a very confused and upset Cuddy standing alone smack in the middle of campus.

"You know, flirting with your superiors on the first day of school is best left up to the pros."

Cuddy whirled around to see what she was sure was a student. A pretty good-looking one too, she decided and she hoped that the blush had gone from her face. "Such as yourself? And I wasn't flirting."

He smirked. "Liar."

Cuddy put her hands on her hips. "I wasn't!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," he said sarcastically. "You're not the only one who does it."

"Of course I'm not! Everybody lies!"

He raised his eyebrows, though there was a glint in his striking blue eyes that she had to admit she liked.

"Not that I was lying," Cuddy clarified.

"Yes, you were."

Now Cuddy was getting frustrated. And she never argued well when she was frustrated. "No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. Which dorm are in you in?"

It was then Cuddy noticed that he had picked up both the duffels she had brought with her, prepared to take them right up to her room.

"Ummm, that one." She pointed straight ahead to an imposing building. "And no, I wasn't."

"How many times do I have to say it until you believe me? Yes. You. Were."

"Horse! Mule! Horse! Mule!" All the other students looked at Cuddy as though she had three heads, but this one that was acting as a personal porter kept his eyes trained in front of him. "Well, that's a nice first impression," she muttered to herself."

"You know, talking to yourself in such close proximity to someone isn't exactly the best first impression either."

If looks could kill, he would be dead. But, as it was, he was carrying her stuff, and Cuddy decided that it would be extremely inconvenient to her to have to shlep it up the rest of the way.

"Nice Fiddler on the Roof reference, by the way."

She smiled to herself. "Thanks. I'll be sure to treasure that compliment, as you don't seem like the type to give them out often," she remarked. Sarcasm was her defense mechanism.

"You're wrong. I'm a real Romeo."

Before Cuddy got a word in edgewise, he interrupted her. "We're here."

Cuddy stared at the wooden door in front of them, wondering how it had gone so fast. "Uh-huh. We're here."

He shuffled his feet, the first sign of unease this kid had shown her. "So, you a freshman?"

"Yup."

He exhaled. "Ok, bye then."

"Bye--waitaminute. All that flirting and you're not even going to ask for my number or anything," she asked, disdained.

"I would, but you don't know your number yet. And besides," he called out from behind his back, "I already know where you live!"

"You don't even know my name," Cuddy challenged.

He turned around. "Yes I do, Lisa Cuddy."

She frowned. "How did you…?"

"It was written on your duffel, Sherlock."

Cuddy blushed. "What's yours?"

"Greg. Greg House."

"Well, I'll be seeing you around, Greg House."

House nodded. "I'll be seeing you around, Lisa Cuddy."

XXXxxxXXX

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed and nothing.

No visit, no number, she hadn't even seen him around campus. She had begun to suspect he wasn't even a student. For all she knew, he was some homeless guy who just happened to know his way around campus. Maybe he was a rape artist. Well, that's just great, Lisa. A rape artist knows where you live. Perfect.

Cuddy kicked off her shoes as she completed her first assignment. It was for her Anatomy Class.

There was a loud rap at the door. Cuddy groaned. "Nina, can you get that," she called out to her dorm-mate.

"I'm in the shower," she answered.

Cuddy sat up. "I can see you."

Nina shrugged. "I lied."

So does everybody. The rap came again, this time harder. "Oh, I'll just get it," Cuddy murmured to herself. Shoving her feet in a pair of slippers, she trudged to the door.

It was House.

"Well, you certainly look nice," he teased.

"Hello to you, too," she replied dully.

"No, really."

Cuddy looked down and with horror, realized she was wearing only an oversized t-shirt and her "Wednesday" panties. She hadn't even put on a bra. And who could blame her? It was 12:30 at night.

"It's Thursday, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Your underwear says differently."

"My underwear doesn't know what it's talking about."

"Oh, great. He was testing me for an exam," he mused to himself. "So, you want to go out?"

"Now," she asked.

"Why not?"

"Ummm, because it's 12:30 and I have a class tomorrow."

"Which professor?"

"Weston."

"I had him. He's not even awake for his own class. You'll be fine."

Cuddy frowned.

"Come on, have a little fun. Consider it payback for me carrying all that crap up for you."

"It's not crap, it's my stuff. And fine, just give me two minutes to get changed."

"Hold it," he called while grabbing her shoulder. "I'm not going to wait half an hour."

"What," she challenged. "Am I not worth it?"

"I'm still deciding."

She grinned. "For that, I'll be five minutes."

In reality, it only took three minutes. And once they were down the stairs, off to who knows where, House contemplated whether or not she knew that he would have waited two hours for her.