Salad.

The girl is in gym shorts and a t-shirt, and her hair is dissheveled. She probably just came from a run or something. Girls like this always eat salad. It's in their blood to eat like rabbits. You don't really feel like eating salad and doubt it will fill you up, but you would like to talk to this girl. You have tons of food to microwave back in your room that you can make when you finish unpacking.

"Okay, good. I'm in the right place then," you tell the girl.

She nods, smiles, and turns back around. Damn, so much for conversation there.

You were right. She paid for her unlimited salad bar plate and sauntered off to fill it up. You grudgingly do the same and follow her. It's two sided, so you pick the opposite side she does, so she'll be **** to look at you. Hey, maybe she'll like what SHE sees. You're pretty good looking after all.

Though you're only eighteen, you don't look it at all. You're tall, 6'1", 6'2." About somewhere in between. You have short, wavy, chestnut brown hair. You rarely comb it and prefer to go for that rugged, just got out of bed look. All the girls loved it in high school. You have a slightly darker complexion than most -- olive skin if you will, it looks like your tan all year round. You have deep blue eyes -- you can thank your mom for those. Girls have always had crushes on you, saying that brown hair with blue eyes is so sexy. Plus, you have a nice build from playing high school basketball. You were thinking of walking on the team here, but don't know yet if you want to be that tied down to an activity.

You reach for the Ceasar dressing, just as she does.

"I didn't figure you for the salad type of guy. You look like you'd enjoy cereal more," she laughs.