Lustful, Lascivious, Licentious, Luis

Riding my bike back to my dorm, with Murder to Excellence playing on my headphones, I struggled with the changing gears snapping back and forth. Once my bike decided to chill the fuck out, I was whizzing through civilians like always, wind on my face, muscles bulging like some kind of Norse God.

I was feeling pretty good at the time, I had just gotten a haircut, the weather in Texas wasn’t even remotely hellish, and really, who can feel any different while listening to Watch the Throne? Anyway, I was on the last stretch of concrete to my dorm hall, when I pass a girl wearing a superman shirt. A pretty girl. With pretty eyes.

I hit the brakes.

Ugh, who am I kidding? I’m just going to get right back on my bike and pedal back home, and the whole way there I’ll be trying to convince myself that it wasn’t the right time, like I’ve got shit to do. Like I’ve got any excuse to not take every opportunity that this world has to offer me. Like I’ll live forever. Like there won’t be a day that I’ll look back at all that I’ve done, and my hesitations, and weep for the days that never came.

“Fuck that shit.”

I turn my bike around. I see she’s going into the business building, so I bike down to the nearest rack and try to get my lock key out of its pocket. “Come on, come on!” I say, as my thumb and finger finally find a grip and pull it out. I get to the entrance door as it’s closing, she’s ahead of me. Upon entering, my focus was disrupted for a moment as the architecture of the building gripped me.The interior of the building was an intricate marriage between glass, metal, and stucco. There were bright blue LED stock market displays lining the ceiling, and the yellow sunlight spilled into the lobby unfiltered by the glass. The walls were even fitted with real seashells! I wondered how many mollusks had to die to make this building.

While I was busy dicking around, Superman-shirt-girl was already walking up the stairs. I quick-walked to the elevator and hit the button for floor two. The button came to life with bright blue neon. I looked around, and even the interior of the elevator looked sophisticated. There weren’t even any cameras to make sure you weren’t drawing dicks on the walls!
The elevator opened. I took one step out to the second floor. I saw she was walking up to the third floor. I stepped back in and pressed the button for floor 3.
The elevator opened. And Oh My God. There she was. Like, right there. I had to act fast. I asked her, “Hey, can I ask you a question? What is this building?” She smiled, “This is the business building.” “It’s really nice,” I said, “there aren’t even any cameras in the elevators to make sure no one’s drawing dicks on the walls!” “I know!” she responded.
Conversation went well after that. She told me she was visiting the building because a friend had told her there was a secret garden on the third floor. Once we got to the door leading to it, it didn’t budge. “Nooo! It’s locked!” she moaned, as she dramatically fell to the floor. And at that moment, I realized, “Wow, this girl is a total spaz. A lovely spaz!”
We decided to leave together, and the conversation continued. “What year are you?” I asked. “I’m a…freshman,” she said shyly. I could tell she thought I was older. “And you?” she asked. “I’m a freshman, too!” I said. “No way, you look like a Junior!” “Get outta here! No I don’t.” “Yes you do!” She approached the wall, “Hey, did you notice that there are seashells in the wall?!” I looked in amazement. “Wow. I wonder how many mollusks had to die to make this building.”
Leaving the building, I told her I wanted to walk her back to her dorm. She agreed. I pretended I didn’t have a bike. I would get it later.
We talked about Olive Garden, graphic design, how she can’t roll her “r”s, how she should be ashamed of herself for not being able to roll her “r”s, and how great my jawline is (her words). “Can I call you Luigi?” she asked. “You can call me whatever you want.” I said.
Once I left her at her destination, I left grinning to myself. Things were looking up. Maybe this bad luck I’ve had with women in the past was a fluke. Maybe college is just what I needed to get my self-worth back.
The second I took a step back into my dorm room, it hit me.
“FUCK! I FORGOT TO GET HER NUMBER!!”