The black soccer player

You decide that since the black soccer player noticed you, she might be more willing to talk to you. You head toward her. When you get close, she looks up as you say, "Can I sit here?"

She nods and looks back to the professor. Her skin darkens as she blushes.

"So, do you play soccer?" you ask, trying to get a response.

She looks at you demurely, then quietly says, "Yes, I'm on the varsity team."

"I'm on the varsity baseball team. I play first base. My name is John," you reply, putting your hand out.

She blushes again, which is really cute. She takes your hand and shakes it feebly. You shake more vigorously. She laughs, a delightful thing.

"I'm Janet. I play striker." She smiles again. Her blushing and shy demeanor are really cute, and that smile is 100-watt.

"So, would you like to go for coffee after class? The union isn't that far. My treat?"
Janet blushes again, looking down. Then she looks back into your eyes and says, "That would be nice."

Then the bell rings and the professor starts class. She takes attendance and has each person stand so she can learn who you are. There's a syllabus to hand out and a discussion of the expectations of the class. By the end of the period, she has given the first piece of homework, a four-page biographical sketch of yourself. The bell rings and the students all file out of class. Janet walks with you. You head to the union.