For the next few days Mike started to spend some time with Kristoff and they became friends. He lived a few floors above Mike and owned an old Playstation that made strange noises but ran just fine. Though he was a freshman like Mike, he seemed to have the university wired, and showed Mike all the best places to hang out and all the shortcuts he knew, as Mike was still trying to figure out the best routes to his classes. It turned out that he had a crush on the girl Hans was seeing. "He's a prick," he'd say whenever Hans came up in conversation. "Anna deserves someone better."

"Someone like you?" teased Mike, earning a shove from his friend.

Meanwhile, Mike was getting a better feel for which of his classes he'd have to invest the most in. He didn't know what direction he wanted his life to take, and he was in no hurry to decide. So he had enrolled in some general classes. He'd always had an interest in science and his social studies classes were fine, but his worst class by far was creative arts. It was required, but completely useless in Mike's mind. More than once he had lost patience and simply left the class, unnoticed, as it was a huge class. It was extremely low on Mike's list of priorities, until one day he realized he might fail if he didn't do something to rectify his dismal grades. So it was that he reluctantly made his way to the professor's office in the art building to plead for his grade.

It didn't go particularly well, but the professor had grudgingly offered Mike some make up work, which he gratefully took. He was not going to suffer through another semester of creative arts if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

Mike backed out of the room with his stack of papers, still thanking the grumpy professor. He turned around a bit too quickly, and ran straight into someone in the hallway. His papers floated to the floor and settled around his feet, but he could only stare at the person he'd knocked down. As she narrowed her eyes at him, however, he mentally shook himself and offered his hand.

"I am so, so sorry," he finally managed as she dusted herself off.

"That's fine," she said, a touch of ice in her voice. She looked him in the eyes and he flinched a bit on the inside.

The girl picked up her bag and began walking away. "Wait!" Mike called, frantically gathering his things and jogging after her. She looked at him again but continued walking.

"Let me take your bag," Mike said, pleading in his mind but managing to keep his voice neutral. She stopped, surveying him for a second, then relented. Mike took the bag from her and examined her out of the corner of his eye. She was beautiful, probably the prettiest girl Mike had ever seen. She had very light blond hair gathered into a braid that came down over one shoulder, and she wore a pale blue shirt over dark skinny jeans that showed off her perfect curves. She wore an almost stern expression, her pale eyebrows arched over her ice blue eyes. Mike focused his sight back on where he was going.

"I'm Mike. I'm really sorry," he said awkwardly.

She gave him an amused smile that made his stomach leap, and replied, "It's fine. Really," and Mike grinned back at her.

"What's your name?" he asked, dying to know.

She flashed him that smile again and said, "Elsa."

Elsa, he thought. He was sure it was the most beautiful name he'd ever heard.

"Well, let me buy you coffee sometime. I still feel kinda bad," he laughed nervously, his mind screaming at him for his forwardness. They stopped at the end of the hallway.

"Alright then." Relief pooled in Mike's chest. She watched him expectantly and he quickly remembered to give her bag back.

"Is tomorrow too soon?" he asked, then mentally kicked himself. He was pushing his luck.

But she only laughed a bit (a sound that made Mike feel weak) and said, "Not at all. I'll be in the library after my 9:30 class. See you then." With that she fixed him with her icy stare and small smile again and left.

Mike felt a little heady but elated. "Okay!" he called after her. "See you tomorrow…."