After a quick lunch at a cafe near the airport, and some more light flirting from Emmett, he pulled his very fast, very small car up to the front doors of Madison Hall, where lots of unloading was happening. While some of the high schoolers in the program had parents giving tearful goodbyes or a taxi driver dumping their luggage on the curb, I had this huge presence of a man, lugging in my bags and then grilling the counselors about dorm safety. Loudly. I finally told him it was ok to leave me, but he hung around a bit more, adding his home and office numbers to my cell contacts (we already had each other's mobile numbers in case anything had gone wrong at the airport), getting the main dorm security number, and generally pointing things out to me that I could easily find myself. It was sweet, but a little intense. His hug goodbye went on a little longer than necessary, and I promised to call him later in the week and let him know if I could do dinner. He gave me a gently kiss to the cheek that felt startlingly sexy because of its proximity to my ear, and my stomach did a little flip when he reached out for and tugged my hand before walking backward to the door. Emmett looked at me like I was a woman, not a girl, and that was enticing... and a little scary. I decided I wouldn't think about how his attention made me feel right now. He had his grown-up life to get back to, and I had a new adventure to begin as a just-for-the-summer undergrad.
As I looked around the lobby for a place to sit and write, I realized I was getting some strange looks from the other high schoolers in the program. Apparently, Emmett had looked so much like a boyfriend (well, man friend since the guy had a sportscar, a suit, and some afternoon scruff on this face) with his hugging, touching, and authoritative concern for my well-being that it looked like we were together. It called to mind the high school girls who would only date college boys, and act so above us as their boyfriends dropped them of at school. If I were interested in hooking up with anyone in the program, he had just made it look like I was off limits. Great. Well, the talent here wasn't looking too special anyway. Lots of boys who appeared to have only recently started shaving and perhaps played a lot of chess.
A counselor was telling everybody to find a place to sit quietly and fill out paperwork, and that shortly the dean overseeing the summer scholar program would come speak to us. After that, we'd have some ice-breakers and games to introduce everyone, and then we'd split up to unpack.
With no more couch or chair space available, I snagged a section of floor (glad to be wearing jeans and sneakers, and not anything I was afraid to get dirty!) near the wall and looked at the thick booklet and forms packet I was supposed to be reviewing. We wouldn't find out our room assignments until we signed on the dotted line, so for now everybody's stuff was lining the perimeter of the lobby. I saw some colorful luggage, some sports equipment, a guitar case, a couple of skateboards, and some other unusually shaped cases. Procrastinating, I tried to estimate the number of kids in the program (40? 50? maybe) and looked for anybody who might be friend material. It was hard to tell, since nobody was talking. But across the floor from where I sat on the opposite wall, a statuesque blond with shiny pink lips and super long legs stretched out in front of her caught my attention. I'd never seen anyone so tall or so stunning in real life. Next to her, a petite brunette with an arm full of bangles jangled every time she moved down a line to fill in her form. It made me giggle. She looked up at me, startled by the noise. When she realized I was laughing at her unintentional music, she grinned and dramatically shook her arm in my direction. The blond looked at her, then at me, and smiled as well. I thought maybe these girls would be my friends.
Just then a girl plopped down next to me with a loud grunt and blew her bangs out of her face. She was so close to where I was sitting, I couldn't ignore her presence, so I turned to her to introduce myself. I never got out a syllable.
"Hi! I'm Jessica," she said brightly. "My friends call me Jess. My plane was delayed and my parents were like, freaking out, so I had to call them the minute I got here and that's why I'm late to this meeting. Did they start yet? Has anybody spoken to the group? Do you have your roommates already? Are the rooms nice? When do we eat?"
I was amazed that anybody could ask so many questions, so quickly, of a complete stranger. She seemed like she was really worried about being left in the dark, so I rushed to reassure her that she'd only missed quiet paperwork time. And then the counselor shushed us because the dean was on his way in. I looked up when I heard the sound of dress shoes clicking on the floor, and saw an older man in a sport jacket at the front of the room. He spoke for some time about the program, the history of the university, and his expectations for us over the coming eight weeks. Then he announced he had a gift for all of us, a copy of the recently published hardcover book about how George Washington University came to be, and its traditions. Boooring. He called on someone nearby him to start passing out books from a big box.
When the messy-haired boy with the books came around, he tilted the box downward toward us so each person could reach in and grab one. While I was getting mine, the box slid down his body far enough that I saw his shirt. A Joy Division Closer tee. What?! I had the same one in my suitcase, but I had never seen anyone else with one. My mouth dropped open. I realized I'd probably meet some people in this program with whom I shared some common interests, but I was beyond excited to see someone who seemed to have the same musical tastes. The boy, who now had the box well in hand, was waiting on me to move on as I peered up at him. He was pale and looked fairly thin, wearing plaid shorts and Vans with the black t-shirt. I noted his unusually-colored auburn hair, but his eyes were hidden behind thick, black frames, and he wasn't looking at me directly. In the background, the dean continued to speak about grades and credits for our summer courses.
"I love that album, but I've never seen anybody else with that shirt!" I whispered to him as I finally pulled my book from the box.
"Then you don't get out much, " he whispered back with a smirk and an accent I couldn't place as he swiftly moved the box in front of Jessica.