First Day
First day of college.
I stare at the classroom door a little longer than necessary before entering. Just a year ago, I didn’t think I would have a future to walk into.
But here I am.
Hoping.
Sophia Evelyn Moore isn’t down and out yet.
Class is about to start, and Daniel walks in, and my mouth goes drier than the Sahara. I straighten up and do my best to ignore this teenage Adonis as he takes the seat next to me. My childhood best friend and my longest crush, how pathetic am I?
“Are you ready for this?” Daniel leans over, and I can’t help but take in his subtle scent of pine trees and freshly laundered clothes.
Looking at Daniel’s optimistic smile, I can’t help but think of how we couldn’t be more different. Daniel has always been the male lead, the one everyone flocked to and admired. I, on the other hand, am behind the scenes, always in my tech booth or on a ladder fixing something in our run-down high school theater. Daniel had always made a point to visit me in my tech box and give me his heart-stopping smile, which is probably why I was never able to get over this crush.
“Absolutely,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Daniel reaches over and places his hand on my shoulder. He looks directly into my eyes, and everything around us stills as his emerald green meets my hazel brown. Daniel holds my gaze a little longer before whispering, “We’ve got this.”
He lets go far too soon and returns his attention to his desk. I take a moment to gather up my pathetic emotions and look at my planner, which lay askew on my desk.
I must remind myself that I am not here to gawk at Daniel.
I am here to get a degree in Production and be the best at Musical Production. It has always been my dream, and I can’t get distracted now. I made it into the top program in the nation. I need to stay focused.
I look at my planner and start looking over my schedule when the door opens. I feel the urge to look in that direction when he walks to the furthest empty desk in the back. I try not to crane my neck at the guy who just strolled in with two full sleeves of ink on his arms. He has that messy, perfectly imperfect hair you see on Instagram but assume doesn’t exist in real life. He wore a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and jeans that looked perfectly tailored to his body. After practically dislocating my shoulder and trying to get a last look at him, I saw him run his hand through his beautiful black hair and look at me.
I was stupid if I thought the rest of the package was awe-inspiring. Everything else was dull in comparison to his strikingly blue eyes, even if they seem to be throwing daggers in my direction. Oh, wait, daggers, oops, I’m staring. Look away, stupid.
After peeling my gaze away from the mystery boy, I look back at my planner and see what appears to be a foreign script across the page… when did I learn Arabic?
I sit up straight and close my eyes.
I need to chill out.
I feel the heat vibrating off my skin.
How can I feel so dismantled from the last 5 minutes? First, Daniel, and now this random boy I don’t even know. I need to pull myself together. Pathetic that just a boy or two can make me completely lose control over my faculties.
Suddenly, an older woman comes in and, like a tornado, destroys the front of the classroom. She throws the jackets she was wearing on the chair and a stack of books on the podium. She takes out a pile of papers and spreads them across the table in front of the whiteboard. Then, she makes her way to the computer near the podium. She straightened her skewed glasses and looked at the class with a quirky smirk.
“Good Morning! Let me get set up, and we can truly begin.”
I glance over at Daniel, and he is exchanging the same look as me. Is she unhinged? I try not to snicker and look at my planner once more and notice the language has magically returned to English. Good, I have calmed down.
The professor logs into the computer and sets up her presentation. She then takes a pile of papers from the table and hands them to one student, who takes one and hands it back.
“I’m passing out the syllabus. For all who don’t know, this class is History of Theater. We are going to go around and quickly introduce ourselves so we can all become acquainted with each other, and so I can do attendance. My name is Professor Knox, and I am very excited to meet all of you. Please say your name, your major, and something we should know about you. If you can’t pick something fast enough, I will pick something for you to answer.” She looks around the class until she lands her eyes on Daniel, “Let’s start with you.”
Daniel’s eyes widen for half a second, and then he lets out a smooth breath.
“My name is Daniel Carrero, and I am studying Theater. Something you should all know about me is that I am a terrible dancer.” Everyone giggles, and I stare at him in awe at how easy he makes it look. He can so easily take center stage and just flow. Daniel catches my gaze and winks. I stop breathing for a millisecond.
Professor Knox clears her throat and looks at me, “Next?”
I falter for longer than a second, but then get it together enough to mutter, “ Hi, my name is Sophia Moore, and I am studying Theater Production. Umm, Something you should all know about me is that I am… originally from New York.” I decide to go with my go-to fun fact and sink a little further in my chair, praying for the attention to go elsewhere.
It does. We move our way through the class, some more extroverted than others, and we go pretty quickly. The mystery boy seems uninterested with a far-off look and the tapping of his pen on his desk like he can’t wait for this all to be over. That is, until we finally get to the last student, the mystery boy. He is the one I have been most interested in hearing. I twist around so I can get a decent look at him, out of kind respect, of course, not because his eyes make my insides feel like they are melting.
Professor Knox brings me out of my reverie: “And last but not least, Mr. White, even though I already know you, would you like to take a moment to introduce yourself to the rest of your classmates? Especially since you will be a big part of most of these students’ day-to-day operations.”
Day-to-day?
I will get to see this man daily.
Maybe there is a God.
The boy looks at Professor Knox and stands quickly. “Hello, my name is Luke. I am a second-year student here and currently the lead production manager.”
He glances around the classroom until his blue eyes lock onto mine. He stares at me for only half a second, but I can feel the blood rush to my face instantly, and all the wind rushes out of my lungs, and in those few milliseconds, my mind goes blank. He continues, “So those of you in production, I will meet you more intimately soon enough, and those of you in theater, it’s my job to make you look and sound good.” I try several times to look away from him, but every few seconds, I find myself focusing on his full lips or his deep eyes; I can’t look away. He will be my production manager? Oh boy, I am going to need a cold shower.
Professor Knox takes over from there and steals my attention once more. “Mr. White has already been around for a year, so if any of you are feeling a little lost or have any questions, feel free to go to him, right?” She looks at Luke again, and he gives a tight nod with a slight smirk. “See? Super friendly guy,” she says, dripping with sarcasm.
Professor Knox finally gets into the swing of class, reads through the syllabus, and introduces the course setup. We get through the class, and she finally dismisses us with a reading list until we meet again. So it begins...
After leaving the classroom, Daniel and I head for a quick lunch break. We grab some sandwiches and find a nice seat near a blooming tree.
“Professor Knox seems…” I search for the right word. “Interesting.”
Daniel snorts and nods, “Yes, very interesting, at least class won’t be dull.”
I feel someone staring at me, so I look around to find midnight-blue eyes staring back at me.
Luke was sitting a few tables away from us with a coffee and a book in front of him. I try to nonchalantly nod at him, but before I even get through with it, he has returned his attention to his book. What is his problem? Well, I guess I was gawking at him earlier. God, I hope he doesn’t think I am some obsessive idiot. He is my boss for the foreseeable future.
Daniel waves his hand in front of my face, and I start to hear him say, “Earth to Soph. Are you zoning out on me?” he looks around to see what I was looking at before I snap out of it. I blink a few times to restart my mind and effectively erase thoughts of any tattooed mysteries.
“Sorry about that. I was just lost in thought.” I reply apologetically, “What were you saying?”
“I was asking you, before realizing you were ignoring me, what do you think it will be like to step onto the stage here in college? It isn’t like high school. I am kind of nervous.”
I roll my eyes at him, “You will be fine. You always are.”
Daniel gives me a look and shoves my arm off the table.
I look into his eyes and see the deeply hidden worry in his green irises.
“Seriously, I know you are doubting yourself, but you always do right before you blow everyone away.” I put my hand over his hand to drive my point home, “ Plus, I’ll be right there. Just pretend you’re talking to me.”
He looks at my hand lying on his and lets out a deep sigh to steady his nerves, and looks back at me. He looks more settled. He caught my hand in his and rubbed the top of it with his thumb, sending shocks down my arm straight to my heart.
“I know it will be ok, as long as my biggest fan is in the audience,” Daniel said with a new look in his eyes I had never seen before. Don’t overthink it, Soph.
Unsure how to handle the new set of emotions floating in the air, I reply, "Oh, your mom is here?”
Daniel quickly lets go of my hand until he shoves my arm again, realizing I was teasing.
“What, what’s wrong with that, Danny!” I tease him while stealing a French fry.
“Hey, no! You didn’t get any, you can’t steal mine!” Daniel tries to reach over the table and take back the fry, but I snake away from his reach.
I pop the stolen fry into my mouth in victory.
When I glance up, Luke is still sitting a few tables away.
His book is closed now.
And he’s watching us with an unreadable look.
