Yes, it could be nice

I closed the door, double checking the hall to find the guy who dropped these, but nobody was there. I looked at my phone to see the meeting was in 15 minutes and I still had my gray sweatshirt on. Eager to find anything nice to wear, I found myself scrambling every piece of my gym clothes to find at least a polo shirt to wear on. Damn it, stupid jock–oriented–head! Why do I have so many sweatshirts?

After every piece of my clothing was thrown at the floor, I found a yellow polo and black jeans. Well, that had to work for tonight!

The wind was still at Oxford streets that night and I thanked the universe. Wearing a polo shirt just to see the guys and girls staring at my barely covered muscles and a tiny sleeve asking for mercy around my biceps was not a good choice for 20 ºC. Following the maps on my phone, I located the neoclassical huge building at the heart of the campus and jogged through the black metal gate.

As a handwritten sign pointed to the left, I entered an opened door listening to the chatting in the background. The room was lived of guys drinking beers, laughing and playing around in little groups and a table next to a not too high stage had a variety of snacks, vodka and soda. Mind that I’m not so shy in making conversation with strangers and I don’t hold back my words, but feeling as an outsider, I thought it was best to get some **** flowing through my blood to get started.

I approached the table, poured some straight vodka into a red plastic glass and a blond guy, with a surfist style, jumped up onto the stage.

“Hello! My name's Jeff and welcome to our meeting. This year we have a lot of newcomers, I see…” He took a pause and locked eyes on me fiercely and confidently, but something was telling me he was looking at somebody else as he kept going. “Come on in and enjoy! We got beer, vodka and good looking mates.” He smirked and some of the guys laughed.

This guy was gorgeous, but I don’t have it for the blond guys, sadly. I followed him with my eyes as he came down the stage and joined a small group of three men and kept his prior conversation. He glanced at me a few times, but I couldn't put myself to talk to him. Then, a dark haired guy came in my direction and I had no time to prepare for his approach.

“Hello! My name's Carl. Game Design. Nice to meet you!” I think I was drooling. He flashed me a bright smile and all I could do was scan him head to toe. His tattoos under the hoodie were all up to his neck and arms. His marked jawline made clear that that hoodie hid an amazing fit frame. He returned the not so subtle checking out glare and offered a handshake.

“I'm Michael. Law school.” I handshaked him, feeling his tight grip and tried to match it.

“Are you a freshman? I think I saw you around campus.” He made a puzzled face, slightly tilting his head to the right.

“Yeah, I'm new here. Just moved out of Oxfordshire Village, trying to get to know some people.” Too much information? I thought so too.

“Cool! Hope you enjoy our little group.” He squeezed my left shoulder and offered me one more smile before he excused himself to talk to two other guys. Once again I was alone in a room full of guys feeling a complete stranger. So, I decided to drink more. **** at least made me more easy going. After my fifth beer, I loosened up a little, talked to some other dudes and after a few dart games I headed to my dorm room.

As I entered my room, I noticed that the left bed had a lot of boxes on top, some suitcases near it but no sign of my new roommate. Since I was a little bit drunk, I decided to sleep it off and maybe get to know him the next day.

And yet for some reason I did it instead.