Yay! Its finally summer, so I would like to hereby instate my first summer fic! This one is based on the song "Anna Begins" by Counting Crows, truly amazing, if you ask me. Lol. So yeah, this is another spin of Sandy and Kirsten meeting at Berkeley, and if you can believe it, a little less fluffy, and hopefully a little more substance! Most people write them as getting together when kirsten was the one who needed to be saved, but what if it was the other way around? If it helps you at all, anna is not anna... lol.

Prologue: Overly concerned

Sure, he had thought he met "the girl" of the story over three fateful months ago in that pleasant shabbiness of an overly capacitated bar on a busy Saturday night. He was, of course, staring at the lean brunette with the double D's and exchanging glances of disbelief at his friend Charlie, who's pompous ass had assured his buddy that he, in fact, would be the first one to have had fun with that one by the end of the night.

Sandy Cohen took another swig of his cheap beer before telling himself for the umpteenth time that he, indubitably, was over Rebecca Bloom. There was no way that he could be with a woman who was God knows where and hadn't even said goodbye when she'd taken off.

Besides, college was all about living on the edge, having fun with your friends, not being tied down and whipped in some virtually betrothed engagement. Sure, Rebecca was practically perfect in every way-- probably related to Mary Poppins, but maybe it was just better off this way. Sandy had, for the zillionth time promised himself that he could be the hook-up guy, not the love-of-your-life guy. He did NOT need the perfect woman to depend on, but at the same time, have to be responsible for. He did the relationship thing. As good as it was to feel taken care of, the deed had to be returned. He spent most of his time with Rebecca the past years that they had dated. Yes, sometimes he had never been happier, but mostly it was picking up the mess, fixing what went wrong, and defending everything that they had together. The endless work was more exhausting than the love was worth. College kids, especially this college kid,did not need to tied down like that.

Charlie patted his back quickly, not really paying attention to Sandy who grabbed another beer, and so Charlie made his drunken waddle over to the brunette. He started laughing to himself, and had trouble standing up without the help of the back of an occupied chair. The brunette started to laugh at Sir Charles, a name that he insisted he was called on any outing where needy women may be involved. Charlie smiled, and took a dramatic bow, before hitting his head HARD on the wobbly wooden table in front of him. Sandy, of course, rushed to his side, smiling at the girls and tried to help his friend out of a potentially more embarrassing situation.

"Sandy stop it," Charlie whispered, in a surprisingly sober manner.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here." Sandy coaxed as if he was addressing a puppy who was not yet housebroken.

"No, play along, go for the brunette." Charlie continued, smiling through his teeth. Sandy's smile faded, he really wasn't in the mood, despite what his 'inner honesty' was telling him.

"Hi there, ladies, Sandy Cohen." Sandy stuck a padded palm toward the mass of hairspray that was drinking their effeminate 'hard' liquor. The brunette smiled, and did the signature hair twirl.

Ok, so she's interested. Sandy thought, and sat down. The brunette, who introduced herself as Becca, offered a seat next to her blond friend, Jennifer.

Brunette Becca, Sandy thought to himself, as he shared and "Ironic!" glance with Charlie. Well isn't that just FANTASTIC! I bet she is just practically perfect in every way.

"I'm Sir Char-" Charlie let out a bearish belch. "les. But most people call me Charlie. My good buddy San…saanfuuurd…" he pretended to slur, "are just coming from his opening night of the FINE production of Grease."

"Your-in-duh-rama?" Jennifer said in her best impression of valley-girl voice, as if the word drama had three syllables, while Charlie smiled and nodded proudly, clapping a hand on Sandy's shoulder.

Sandy stood up quickly and offered another round of beers.

"Uhh, you're kidding right? You know what," Becca said, standing up, and using her left index finger to outline the crew cut 'collar' of Sandy's blue tee, and swirling her finger around a chest hair that stuck out of the top of his shirt. " How about you, and I, go do something else. Spend a little time alone…" she stated, hardly above a whisper.

"Umm… I would, except I worry about ol' Charlie here, getting home ok, you know, how about--" Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Ugh… never mind then. C'mon ladies, let's go." Immediately the room was relieved of the stench of the hairspray and effeminate liquor.

Sandy sat down next to Charlie, who belched again, right in Sandy's face.

"C'mon. Let's go." Sandy said, looking defeated at his friend.

"Hey. Sandy, cheer up dude-- don't worry. You'll get over her eventually. Once you learn how to play the field a bit, you won't even miss the whole relationship thing. Trust me, it's totally worth it." Charlie reassured him.

Bite me. Sandy thought to himself. He pulled Charlie out of his seat, and the two made a beeline for the door. Sandy pushed his dark hair out of his face. His muscular build was necessary in dragging Charlie out of the bar, and out onto the busy street near the Berkeley campus. He hailed a cab, and through dilated pupils he saw the world pass him by in the span of a night. How much longer was it going to take for him to feel back on track with his life?

My friend assures me,

"It's all or nothing."
I am not worried I am not overly concerned
My friend implores me,

"For one time only, make an exception."

I am not worried