Freedom and No Regrets

**Molly**

My lectures have dragged today, but thankfully they’ve finally finished; time to hit the gym. Our campus has a tiny little room separated from the main gym with a rowing machine in it. It’s the perfect place to exercise and chill at the same time. For me it’s a sanctuary. Annie had forced me to try an aerobics class at the beginning of the year; and I vowed never to do it again. I couldn’t hack the competitive attitude of trying to outdo and out last each other. Not my scene. Annie had laughed at my reaction; she is so much more sociable than me. My resolution on arriving at campus to be more sociable has limits and aerobics is definitely a bridge too far. Since starting at university, I have spent many hours in this small room. I love my time here, no one bothers me or wants to talk to me. I can escape here.

The drone of the ergo wheel makes a comforting sound. Over the years I’ve been ergo training I’ve developed a perfect playlist. There is even a boost in the speed at the forty-minute mark to ensure I push through the whole session.

The boost has just kicked in and I know I am on the homeward stretch. My legs are starting to burn and I have to focus. I close my eyes and concentrate on technique for the last section.

I open my eyes and stop dead when I see someone leaning against the wall.

He is staring, a smile plays on his lips.

I can’t help but smile back. There’s something appealing about him. He seems friendly enough, and rather amused by my sudden return to reality. I wonder exactly how long he was standing there before I noticed him.

“Hi” I finally mutter while pulling out my ear buds.

“Hi back at you”

“I….didn’t ….. don’t usually ……. I mean …”

“I’m guessing you are not normally interrupted?”

“Never. And with my music I didn’t hear you either. There’s actually a book where you can sign for the room. I have this slot every well. Sorry…. That sounds ….. like … really aggressive…. I didn’t mean it as it sounded ….. just trying to…”

“It’s cool. I didn’t know there was a booking system. I’ll check it out”

“I’m sorry. I’m pretty done. You can have the room” I suddenly just want to get out of this confined space. I have managed to go from shock to stuttering to aggression to apologising in as many sentences; and they weren’t even proper sentences.

I get up, gather my stuff and head for the door. As I get to the door, he opens it and asks “It’s my fault for not knowing the system. Let me make it up to you, what you are doing tonight?”

And just like that I agree to meet a complete stranger.

I cycle home and wonder what the evening ahead has in store. It’s certainly not what I had expected when I dragged myself out of bed this morning. I never go on dates, is this a date? I don’t even know anything about him. This isn’t me; he probably just feels he has to make it up to me after nearly scaring me half to death.

At eight thirty I head into the bar to find my ‘date?’ or what-ever. It flutters across my mind that he’s going to look rather different dressed. God – I hope I recognize him, hopefully he will remember me. Why am I even doing this?

I have only taken a few steps inside and an arm appears around my waist pulling me in and I look up to see the same gentle smile looking down at me. Christ he’s tall. He offers me a drink and immediately heads to the bar. I tag along behind not exactly sure where he’s seated, if anywhere. I’m enjoying the heads turning as he manages to ease his way to the front and get served incredibly fast. I’m not the sort of person anyone notices so it seems strange to be with someone who is. Not that I am ‘with’ him as such, more in his vicinity. I guess him being a head taller, uber confident and a having a beaming smile helps. I should try to learn to be more personable, I remind myself. I watch as he moves and guides people out of his way, confident in his touch and ability to control those around him.

It turns out that he has a table near where he had found me. He holds my hand as we weave our way back, once there he introduces me to some of friends. All are a little older than the average student age. I wonder fleetingly if that’s why they hang out together some sort of ‘been there and done that’ attitude to teenagers. It must be slightly strange being an older student; I wonder if they often laugh at the irresponsibility of the rest of us.

Since neither of us are actually on the alcohol it seems daft to spend the whole evening watching others getting gradually more sozzled. We quietly sneak away, being an unusually warm night, we head for the walks around the lakes on campus.

The truth is that we know nothing about each other. We laugh and chat about all sorts of things. He seems pretty cool – or perhaps ‘hot’ I laugh to myself. I feel comfortable with him. Always gentlemanly, his hand snakes around my waist as we talk and walk around. We wander off campus down to the local village just a half mile down the road. There are a couple of jazz musicians jamming in a small pub there, after finding a table in the corner, we stay until kickout time at 3am. I’m tired, and in need of caffeine so we stop by an all-night greasy spoon for some not-so-great coffee before meandering back to campus.

Sunrise isn’t too far away. I have a favorite place to watch the sunrise on campus. Feeling rather shy I offer to share my insane sunrise place and he chuckles and just said ‘sure’. His eyes widen as I point to a branch high up a tree which overlooks the main campus. It has only ever been me up there before so I wonder how two people will fit on the tree branch. But it works well enough. I head up first, but we quickly realize that some mid tree manoeuvres are required. We comfortably settle down before the sun rises. His back against the huge central trunk and I snuggle against him with his legs crossed under my knees. Despite not having an ounce of fat on him he is comfortable and this is a brilliant way to watch the new day begin. I like the calm and silence combined with the feeling of freedom when I am up here.

We are still talking at lunch time, though admittedly we have moved from the tree to a café. Our conversation progresses to friends and student life. It turns out that one of the guys I had met the night before is rather infamous on campus; carrying the nickname the ‘fresher-eater’. He apparently props up the bar, picks up the first year girls, takes them back to his room and never bothers to talk to them again. He is best recognized by his biker jacket which he reportedly wears regardless of the weather. I remembered it, it wasn’t a light weight stylish jacket, it was battered and looked like it had been kicked around a million bar floors – or perhaps dragged across tarmacs and survived massive bike crashes – whatever it was – the jacket looked like it had lived, one could only assume the man inside had as well. Rumor has it that he has made very few friends on campus and is supposed to be a loner and very self-contained.

I finally drag myself to the last few lectures of the day having accidentally ‘forgotten’ to go to any of my morning ones …..

I rarely go to the library because, well, quite frankly I have better things to do. However, today has been a messy day and it seems like a good place to go and clear my head. I am sure if I head back to my room now I’ll just fall asleep and it way too early for that.

Having found the perfect window seat, I stare out the window watching the world go by and pretending to work. While lost in thought I’m dragged back to reality as someone whispers my name. I look around and there is the man in the biker jacket. Straight mousey brown hair frames his oval face. His grey eyes fixed on me….

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

Christ that’s an understatement and I hadn’t even realized. Without me even verbalizing my thoughts he replies with

“Cool, let’s go grab something”.

I guess even he doesn’t want to always eat alone; I’m hungry, really hungry.

I gather my stuff together, ram it in my bag and silently follow him out the library; he heads towards the car park. I had assumed that we would stay on campus – but he obviously has other ideas.

He opens the passenger door to let me in and reads the look on my face, smiling he adds “don’t worry I am not going to cut you up into pieces and leave you at the side of the road”

I had barely spoken to this guy. The man with a jacket that could tell a million stories. With eyes that danced with mischief, and now I’m getting in a car with him to go God-knows-where ……

But that’s Ned – he’s magnetic. He’s different.