AN: Okay this is insane but I'm gonna switch it up to first person point of view and present tense. You don't need to tell me how amateurish that is because I'm well aware. But I can tell the rest of the story better this way!
August 29th, 2015
11:27 PM
The Patio Bar
Stanford, California
"Can I buy you girls a drink?"
I look up at the words I am so used to hearing. The guy asking them is a tall, muscular one with green eyes. He's cute but he's not my type and the fact that he is asking both me and Abby let's me know he's a grade a fuckboy. I'm not interested in him and not just because I promised Abby I would be careful on the sleeping-with-guys-I-just-meant front. The truth is I feel bad letting guys buy me drinks if they're obviously into me and the feeling isn't mutual. I'm not that type of girl. I don't judge girls who do that but I just think that's mean.
"No," I reply matter of factly. I know that sounds even meaner but I'm just sparing him a mess of a relationship when it comes to me.
"Yeah, no thanks," Abby agrees kindly.
The guy laughs like something is funny. He sticks around for a second or two before taking the hint and going away. Slightly uncomfortable, I began looking around the bar. There are so many Stanford students here, it should practically be on campus. But it's mostly upperclassmen and so far, they've been spending their last night of summer freedom hitting on me and Abby.
I sigh into my glass of beer. I'm just not in the mood for any of this - getting drunk or high or sleeping around. I'm not even in the mood to talk to a guy.
"Abby," I turn to her, about to ask her to leave. But I find her talking to this guy with thick framed glasses and she seems to be into him, which makes me smile. I tap her elbow. "Abs, I'm gonna take it off."
"I'm gonna stick around for a few. See ya," she replies. I don't think she's trying to sound selfish by staying - she really seems to be into this guy and from the looks of it, he seems nice.
"Get home safe." I grab my bag off the counter and head off.
The truth is, there is only one person on my mind and his name is Fitzgerald Grant.
August 29th, 2015
11:51 PM
Stanford University Campus
Stanford, California
Campus is buzzing with students out and about - even though it's almost midnight and most classes start tomorrow. Even most of the dining places are open - including a small coffee shop near Florence Hall. I don't know why, but I walk in. I just need a place to sit down and sober up. Maybe confront my feelings while I'm at it.
To elaborate on Fitz, I don't even know why I'm thinking about him this much. He's obviously very attractive and has a good sense of humor but I meet guys with both those qualities all the time. Maybe it's the fact that I'm thoroughly embarrassed about what happened earlier today with the note and everything. I did not know he was the teacher's assistant and I guess Abby didn't either. But he seemed to find the whole thing funny which was so cute to me.
I didn't get a chance to see him after orientation - mostly because he was approached by at least a dozen female students flirting with him casually. He probably gets that a lot - looking like he does. I'm not gonna lie - he's amazingly attractive. Maybe the fact that he's obviously unavailable that keeps him in my mind. I sleep around but I'm not the type of girl who tries to seduce a teacher or teacher's assistant. That's whorish and that's not me.
I sit down at the sort of bar type of seating at the cafe. It's super busy in here but the staff managed to make it look cute - it's your typical city small coffee shop. Except it's in one of the most populous college's in the world.
"Hi," a brunette worker who seems to be in a rush approaches me. She has a quirky smile and her name tag reads 'Quinn'. "How can I help you?"
For some reason, the words that come out of my mouth are, "Are you guys hiring?"
August 30th, 2015
6:40 AM
Coffee Express
Stanford, California
"Here you go," Quinn hands me a folded green apron with a plastic white name tag on top. "Just take a sharpie and jot your name down. I talked to the boss, Harrison, last night and you can start this afternoon. You don't have any classes, do you?"
"Not this afternoon, no," I take the things from Quinn and silently thank her and whoever 'Harrison' is for giving me this job.
Granted, it's minimum wage at ten dollars per hour and I can only work sometimes because of school, but it's close to my dorm and it's really all I have. Plus, as loud and cheerful as she is, Quinn Perkins is so sweet and so are the other two workers I've met so far - Huck and Stephen. Together, they work the morning shift.
"Okay, so just come by," Quinn turns to me. Her eyes lower on my Movado watch. "Can I ask...why do you need this job?"
I insecurely touch my watch and she instantly shakes her head, brunette curls flying everywhere. "I'm sorry I asked. You don't have to answer. That was rude."
"No," I began, forcing a smile. "It's just...I used to come from means and I don't anymore."
"You don't owe me an explanation," Quinn insists. She walks back out to the counter and I follow her. Stephen is managing the cash registerand smiles at me. They're all so sweet and nonjudgmental. This isn't as bad as I thought it would be.
Quinn writes something on a notepad and turns to me. She looks at my Tory Burch sweater and jeans. "As much as I love your outfit, the dress code is dark or forest shirt and white jeans or leggings."
I nod, trying to hold my tongue. That's such an ugly combination and I might kill myself before I have to wear that but beggars can't be choosers. "Got it."
"Good," Quinn walks to the display glass, opens it and takes out a fresh bagel. She offers half to me and I take it. "Don't look so worried. The pay is crap and the dress code is worse but it's not as bad as you're making it out to be in your head. Harrison is sweet and these two guys-" she points to Huck and Stephen. "Are even better. It's gonna take some getting used to, especially with all those classes you're taking - how many was it you said?"
"Eight."
Quinn tries to hide her surprise. "Yeah. That. Like I said - You're gonna like it here, Liv."
I take a bite of the bagel.
I'm honestly not so sure.
August 30th, 2015
9:58 AM
Lecture Hall Exterior
Stanford, California
I lean against the brick wall of the lecture hall and sigh. This morning's class was tough. I wouldn't have gotten so far behind if I hadn't been so distracted...
Okay, I know how pathetic it sounds that I was distracted by Fitzgerald Grant. I didn't get a chance to speak with him and apologize again today. All the students - female and male - go to war for his attention. And who can blame them? he really is cute. And he wore this white pinstripe with black jeans that clung on to his ass and -
Like I said, I know how pathetic it sounds. I was never this girl, head over heels and infatuated with this guy I know I couldn't have. So that's why I'm pissed off. That and the fact that I have to be at my new job in an hour.
Abby's off on a date with this new guy. He literally came into the hall after class to pick her up. His name is David and he's the same guy from last night. He's cute, I guess. Not my cup of tea. Maybe I just am jealous. Jealous of David because he gets all this time with my best friend and jealous of Abby because she gets a happy new relationship and I'm just here, fishing for cigarettes in front of the lecture hall.
I actually rarely smoke cigarettes but I'm not the the type to roll up a joint in the middle of campus.
I think what a lot people, Abby included, don't understand is that I am not a drug addict. I'm not dependent on drugs. Or alcohol for that matter. If I was told I could never have any drugs or alcohol for the rest of my life, I'd be okay. That would suck, but I'd be fine. I wouldn't die. I would get sick and put myself in rehab. I'd be bummed out but I don't need drugs. It's like, if someone was smoking weed and they offered me a joint and I would take but I wouldn't ask. I have no other way to explain it. I'm just not dependent on drugs or alcohol.
I'm about to search for my lighter when i hear someone call, "Livvy!"
I look up. Nobody has called me that for years yet I know they're still talking about me. The person walks up to me and to my surprise, it's Fitz. He's come running from the building and he's panting, which is actually kind of hot. "Livvy. That's your name, right?"
"It's Olivia," I raise my eyebrows. He's even cuter up close. Those eyes...
"Olivia," he repeats. His amazing eyes lower to my hands and glare at the cigarette. "What are you doing? You can't smoke."
I point up to the SMOKING AREA sign above up, plastered on the side of the brick wall. I wouldn't be so stupid as to smoke where I'm not allowed and get penalized for it. I have a good community relationship back home and I plan too here as well. I get good grades and my teachers admire me. They always have and I have no intentions of changing that. They don't need to know what happens behind closed doors and I can't get in trouble when I'm smoking at the designated place.
"Just because you can," Fitz frowns. "Doesn't mean you should. Have you listened to the Surgeon General in, what, the past thirty years? These things will kill you."
I roll my eyes. "From the minute we're born, we start dying. These cigarettes will just speed up the process. We all die anyways."
Fitz wrinkles his eyebrows. He leans his back on the wall next to mine. "That's just...bullshit."
That makes me laugh. I stuff the cigarette pack into the pocket of my jeans and look at him. He's really tall and I only come up to about his shoulder. "That's not the type of language you should be using with your students."
"You should know a thing or do about inappropriate or suggestive language," Fitz jokes with a scoff.
I blush. "About yesterday - I'm sorry. It was my friend, Abby who wrote that note and we didn't know you were a TA and if we did we would have never-"
Fitz holds up his hand. "It's okay." A grin grows on his face. "I found the whole thing quite funny, actually. And I will take you girls up on your offer anytime."
I gape at him.
He notices and laughs out loud. "I'm kidding, Livvy."
"Olivia," I correct him again, grinning myself. Okay, so he's funny. Funnier than I previously thought. He's got a sense of humor and he's not mad or uncomfortable about before. It makes him easier to tease. "Does Professor Beene know your this corrupt?"
"Corrupt," he repeats. "I'm not corrupt." A slow smile grows on his face. "Does Cy know you offer to go down on your TAs?"
"I told you, it was my friend Abby!" I begin and starts laughing again.
"I'm joking," he smirks.
A moment of silence passes us, but it's not uncomfortable. It's just kind of...there. I look at him again. "So...what brings you out here?"
Fitz blushes for some reason. "Well..."
"No way," I grin and narrow my eyes. "You came out here to smoke, didn't you?"
Fitz stares at me. "How in the hell did you possibly guess that?"
"I have great intuition," I explain. "But that's besides the point. The point is - you're a hypocrite."
"No," he tries to deny it, but I'm shaking my head.
"Have you listened to the Surgeon General," I mock him. "In the past, what? Thirty years?"
"Very funny," he rolls his incredible blue eyes. "I'll have you know that I rarely smoke."
I smirk. "That's what they all say."
Fitz frowns. "I'll tell you what, Livvy. I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."
"Deal," I smile. "And it's Olivia, for the last time. Not 'Livvy'."
"I like 'Livvy' better."
"Whatever," it's my turn to roll my eyes. Then, I smile again. "Mr. Grant