he had watched her come in. she had sat down at the bar four seats away from him, and had ordered a gin and tonic. now she was leaving and he hadn't even finished his bourbon yet. he watched her glide away into the night, and filed her away into his memory for future reference.
he was sitting in the back of his english lit class. the door opened timidly and closed with barely a click. he knew it was her. he hadn't expected it. she was first year, but the class was not. his eyes followed her down the aisle, watching her slide into her seat. she was wearing a red dress. the oddity stuck in his mind; few people wore dresses around campus, yet the two times he'd seen her, she had. he couldn't picture her otherwise. it would have been unnatural. he watched the class end, and watched her scuttle out of class, trying to go unnoticed. she dissolved into the crowd of mountain equipment co-op bags and teva sandals. he half expected her to emerge transformed, eating granola and supporting greenpeace. she didn't reappear.
he tugged hard on his cigarette. he hated the taste of cloves but couldn't stop smoking them. he exhaled. she would come tonight. she couldn't not come. she had to come. an hour passed, then two. he began getting impatient. he was deliberating whether or not to leave. 15 more minutes. then he would go. 15 minutes passed. he left the bar.
for a week he watched her comings and goings. he had followed her back ot her dorm one day and discovered it was visible from the east bedroom window of the house he rented with three others. he sat by the window, watching her trudge across the field, only to disappear into a cluster of buildings. he imagined the classes she would take, the people she would associate with. he wondered if she was a virgin, what it would be like to have sex with her, what she would taste like. he went to the bar to wait for her. she never went.
he had decided to confront her. he waited outside the building. it was raining and he felt like a movie cliché. he was wet and shivering but determined. she arrived, appearing through the misty veil of rain, under a red umbrella, true to the cliché. he knew it was her because of the dress. he knew she saw him. he could sense her caution, and saw that her hand was clenched into a fist. he stood as soon as she was within speaking distance.
"hello," he said, trying to sound casual despite his anxiety.
"hi," she replied, trying to decide whether or not he was a threat.
"uh, could you let me inside? i've been waiting over an hour and i'm soaked through." he was shivering.
"yeah, sure. who are you waiting for? maybe i'll know if they're in or not."
"you."
her throat tightened and her hands froze, halfway to the door.
"i'm not going to rape you, alright? i just want to get to know you. i saw you in my third year english lit class, and wondered what you were doing there. why don't we sit in the lounge?"
his voice was soft, silky, coaxing. a group of girls giggled past. one had dreadlocks; he shot her a look of disgust as she passed. he caught the open door and let her inside.
somehow, they had ended up in her bedroom, through a course of explanations, revelations and coffee cups. he hadn't touched her, largely because she avoided his touch, maintaining her distance. she was explaining her english lit sit-ins when her alarm clock beeped.
"you have to go now," she said abruptly.
"it's only 10," he protested.
"no. go." she crossed the room and opened the door.
"you've got it all figured out, haven't you? go to bed at 10, wake up at 6. take a jog around campus before having a breakfast of grapefruit and cereal. file away your class notes according to subject and date, start studying a month before exams start and meditate the night before. you don't even know what you want to be but you've got all your courses for the next three years planned out and the paint for your office picked." his voice filled with hate and condescension.
"fuck you," she spat, her voice hoarse.
he got up and left. she had spite. he liked that. he knew she was upset with him. he'd give her some time to cool off, before attempting to see her again.
he waited a week. he kept watch from the east window, memorizing her schedule as she tottered to and fro between classes. then he decided it was time. he followed her into a bookshop which doubled as a café. he sat down at her table. she didn't look up. instead she picked up her cup and slurped at it. when she put it down, he reached across the table and took a sip. he made a face before swallowing the rest.
"earl grey. probably a kick-back habit from your gothic phase, which you conveniently overcame before coming to university. i bet you cut your hair to prove it." he glanced at her book. "nietzsche. i should have guessed; you're so predictable. do you really enjoy it or are you reading it in an attempt to look jaded and post-genX? that's why you came here, isn't it? so that you could look authentic."
"if you think i'm such a poser, then why talk to me?" she shut her book with irritation. "i hope you'll pay for the tea," she added, glancing at the empty cup. he sighed, looking disappointed. "i saw you follow me here, watched you come in. you don't come to english lit anymore yet you get notes off mark. he says you watch me walk to class from your window. what do you want?" she suddenly looked weary.
"shit. mark told you? shit." he was totally unprepared for his roommate's divulgence of his obsession.
"shit? you want shit? i'll give it to you. i'm going to the police." her eyes had taken on a hard glint. he grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass.
"no. please. i'm sorry." he was startled at his voice. his tone had become desparate, no longer the confident, self-assured tone. he looked pathetic. she tried to free her wrist but his fingers closed even tighter. she sighed and sat back down. he stood up and pulled her out of the store. he wondered what he would do with her.