Stephanie
February, 1995
Clackamas Community College
Oregon City, Oregon
"Did you get that essay done for Art History?" I asked him, munching on some baby carrots. Michael looked up from one of his thick textbooks for another class he was taking currently, giving me a cute little smile.
"Uh, about a week ago I finished it Steph." He ran a hand through his curls, eyes going back to his book. I groaned loudly, being dramatic.
"A week ago? And you didn't offer to help me?" A crunch rang through the air between us as I took another bite, "Some friend you are, Jackson." I nudged his arm, making him look back up at me.
"Help you? You should have asked me!" He shut the textbook as we held eye contact. Grinning with his teeth, he reached into my zip-lock baggy full of carrots to take one.
"Hey! You didn't ask!" I protested, letting him take one anyway. He smirked, waving the carrot through the air before me in a swirl until it booped me on my nose.
"Now you know how it feels." Crunch. I wiped the end of my nose off, wanting to scoff though he was correct. Instead, I simply grabbed another carrot, enjoying the obnoxious sound it made as I pulverized it with my teeth. "Plus, aren't you doing your essay on Jan Van Eyck? I did mine on Donatello, you know this."
"I thought you chose Da Vinci for your essay?" He shook his head.
"I admire him, for sure. His anatomical drawings gave me an unprecedented want to take anatomy and physiology next term, and his war machine blueprints? Come on, girl. Tell me to my face they're not cool, Stephanie, cause they are." I stuck out my tongue at him briefly, earning a high pitched, short laugh.
"He's cool, but everyone knows about Da Vinci, Michael. That's why I chose Van Eyck instead. Plus, his use of color with oils blew my mind. I mean, the guy literally flaunted his skill in each of his paintings!" I began to become opinionated, showing my passion for the topic quite quickly, "The painting he did of the merchant and his wife, slash bride - you know it, right?" He gave me a nod, holding my eyes with his as I continued to speak. "He painted himself in the reflection of the mirror that was in the far background, and above he signed his name in flipping Latin. Saying the equivalent of 'Jan Van Eyck was here, 1434'." The look my friend was giving me made he halt in my words. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" He didn't seem to understand. "I'm just looking at you, eye contact you know?"
"Don't be smart, Applehead. No, you were looking at me like..." I shook my head in disbelief, "...like, nevermind. You know what? It don't matter." I shrugged, bending at the waist in the cafeteria chair to grab my water bottle from my backpack.
"What? No! Tell me what kinda look you thought I was giving you, please. I wanna know." He pouted, making his eyes big. Those brown orbs of his made me feel things I couldn't describe, but I would never tell him that, he's my friend. Michael leaned forward on the edge of his chair, genuinely intrigued. I flipped the cap and took a quick swig of water.
"Uh, nope. Anywho, you could have helped me with this soul-draining assignment - that's for sure."
"No, I couldn't have. We chose different Renaissance men to write about, plus, by the sounds of it you already knew what you were doin'." He grabbed another carrot from me, crunching on it as he continued to smile.
"At this rate, I might as well give you the bag." Michael had gone through half the baggy I'd brought from home with me. He shrugged.
"Is this all you brought for lunch today?" He asked.
"Hmm, I need to go grocery shopping. The bachelorette pad is almost empty of sustenance." I seriously joked. He moved his arms to lay flat on top of the table.
"You know, my place is always stocked." My eyes narrowed.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Uh, maybe... And hear me out, Steph. You could... ya' know." He didn't finish his thought. It must have been my unlucky day because Becka walked up to us, wearing her fresh kicks, and velvet scrunchie in her bushy hair. I was officially displeased. The only reason Michael and I knew this chick was because she'd decided to swap her major at the end of last year to History, the bimbo. Did I mention Michael is an Art History major? Yeah, he is. And I'm the plain History major; some of the classes between the two majors overlap, which means every class I'm able to have with my friend I end up having with this chick.
"Hey, Michael." Becka's hand rested on the back of Michael's chair, trying to be possessive. I could just rip that scrunchie right outta her ratty hair right now... She glanced at me, "Stephanie."
"Becka." I deadpanned. Crossing my arms in discontent with her abrasive presence, I reclined back deciding now was as good a time as any to get comfortable. It was clear a scene was about to play out before my eyes, we'll just have to wait and see what the topic is this time. She turned back to Michael.
"Hey Becka." He replied politely.
"Michael, I was wondering if you had some extra time to join a study group I'm putting together for our Cultural Diversity class with Professor Burting, and if you'd like to join?" Oh, boy. Just what he needs: to carry her through the class with his smarts. I tried not to roll my eyes in an obvious way. Michael glanced at me before giving her an answer.
"Well, we were kinda in the middle of something Becka. Can I get back to you on this maybe?" He asked, surprising me. My eyes became large as the flickered between him and Becka. She looked beside herself, and good thing too. She should. Michael's my friend, not hers. Wait, do I sound like a possessive little kid right now?
Oh god, I do...
"Uh, sure." She gave him a fake smile, "We can talk about it more before our class together today then?"
"Um, after? I'm walking Stephanie to her car before class." He replied, looking sheepish. What a burn! See that guy right here? He's my friend, I'm so proud. I heard her scoff, removing her hand from the back of his chair.
"Ok. Well, I'll see you later then..." With that, Becka walked away. A grin spread across my face as I leaned forward towards Michael. He watched her walk away and spoke before I could.
"Do you think I did that ok?"
"What?" I became confused suddenly at his question. He met my eyes.
"Do you think I brushed her off good enough? I'm trying to seem aloof." He confessed. A disgusting feeling rose within me.
"You like her?!" The words were spat out of me, and I felt sick at the thought of my friend liking that high-maintenance barbie. Michael blushed.
"Uh, well... She's in a lot of my classes is all. I like playing around with her cause she's a bit much to handle at times." I blinked at him.
"You make no sense, Michael Jackson." I told him, leaning back in my chair. He gave me a shrug.
"So, anyway. I was gonna ask you... if..." Once again, he couldn't finish his sentence. I leaned forward once more, gesturing for him to continue.
"Come on, Applehead. Spill."
"Ok, ok. Would you want to move in with me in my dorm room?" Did I hear him right? Are my ears working properly?
"Say what now?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. With a small sigh, Michael looked away from me.
"I said - very clearly, mind you - 'Would you want to move in with me, into my dorm room?'. So. Would you?" My right palm flipped, facing open to the ceiling.
"Where the heck did this question come from?" Unable to fully meet my eyes, he would only glance at them as he replied.
"Well, as you know, my family is kinda well-off... and you've talked about financial issues before." I gave him a look. "This isn't charity, I swear! I just -. I want to help you. You're my best friend, Stephanie. I can't help but want to relieve you of your burdens, it's just my nature, I guess." What he said gave me a lot to think about, and as much as it sounded quite nice - to live with him - I wasn't entirely sure how it would pan out. A guy and a girl living together in college? Sounds like a boyfriend and girlfriend situation to me...
He frowned.
"You look skeptical. That's never good."
"Well, it's just there's a lot of things we would have to clarify. And then there's bills, Mike. I can't just live with you for free, that's like mooching off of you - which is something I could never do to you. That's just..."
"...crazy?" He tried to finish for me. I ran a hand over the top of my hair, leaning on my elbow as I did so.
"I -. I'm not sure."
"Well, just think about it. Will you?" He bit his bottom lip as he waited for my answer, it was tempting to just make him sit there on the edge of his chair but instead I nodded. Once I replied nonverbally to him, another smile lit up his features. He's always had such a lovely smile. "You will? Oh, you're the best, Steph."
"I'm the best? You're the one offering me your home. That's huge." I paused, looking out one of the huge windows by our lunch table. "Yeah." I waved a hand through the air, closing my eyes briefly. "Yeah, I'll think about it." His warm hand grabbed mine.
"That's great! Now, are you gonna let me walk you to your car? It's pushing one o'clock and you know my next class is at one-thirty." I gripped his hand back, still pondering his proposition.
"You can walk me. Goodness, you getting attached now?" I teased, letting his hand go so I could begin to pack up my things. He placed a hand delicately on his chest, feigning disbelief.
"Me? Attached? Where?" He stood while he talked to me, spinning around twice. We'd played this game before.
"Shut up before I hit ya." He chuckled, dodging my hand as I had tried to playfully get his upper arm. Slinging his now packed backpack over one of his shoulders, he put an arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the cafeteria together.
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