You Forget About It, Until...

The next few days after the back drop off are a swirl of questions and doubt. You call yourself an idiot multiple times. Like the coach who lost the superbowl or an army general who made the wrong call, you trace over every minute decision you made and reconsider how you could have done it better. Perhaps being less forward would have been a start. It's all such a mess. The question nags at you. But, like all failures at asking out a girl, it is eventually forgotten.

Not immediately. After the first day or two of regret, and after the first week of being dogged by it, the thought subordinates to everyday life. She's still a constant fixture of your everyday ruitine, passing you in the quad or between classes. When you see her the missed opportunity of the backpack briefly arises, and then vanishes. For her part, she seems to at least acknowledge your existence now. Well, acknowledge your existence by turning her head from you whenever she passes, you but it's a start.

All of this goes on for two months, until one day. One day when the story takes a turn for the weird. And not the freaky deaky sexy kind of weird either.

One day you are walking back from Chipotle with a group of friends, when you think you notice her in the parking lot. Well at least you think it's her. Short, long dark hair, mouth watering curves, enough pink that it's a wonder she does leave a trail of glitter? Probably her.

The fact you see her isn't the strange part. Surprise surprise, she happens to live on campus too. No, the strange part is that she was leaning into the window of a car talking to someone who is obscured from view. It was the car that earned your attention. It was a conversion van from the early 90s with a disgusting brown paint job. It was unmistakably the van of your horrible stoner roomate.

It was Todd's van!