Please Don't Hurt Me

The day passed in much the same way as the one before it and you weren't entirely okay with it.  You walked through long halls and heard your footsteps echo with hollowly around you.  You had a laptop pack slung over your shoulder filled with papers, notebooks, and the unavoidable build-up of the semester.  The weight of the pack and the heat of the building turned your shoulder hot and sweaty.  It made you feel like a pig.  You'd think for the bullshit amount of money they'd charge for your books they could afford to fix the AC in the place.  Switching the bag's place to your other arm would alleviate the problem, but you already did that a scant few moments ago.

At least you weren't the only one feeling like shit.  The other students making their way to their classes or out to the courtyard for a quick drag looked equally swampy.  Some wore it better than others.  You had the fat, slovenly fucks who looked greasy and sweaty no matter what the temperature,  the overdressed chicks who insisted on wearing those weird coats that covered up any chance of catching  a glance at their tits, they always bore their suffering oh-so nobly.  Their sleeves were always darkened by the repeated streaks from wiping their forehead.

And then there was the chicks who were smart, or at least dressed light, and praise god for it.  High cut shorts that made their legs stretch from here to venus.  Sleeveless, tight white shirts that showed off the smooth curve of their shoulders.  And underneath those shirts...well,  the outlines of their bra straps left precious little to the imagination.  Your favorite were the girls who just finished wrapping up games of tennis or track, running through the halls in those slim little red shorts with the white stitching.

Mmm.  Two of those tight little things just ran by.  You stopped for a moment to catch the rear-view, playing it off as bending down for a drink of water on a nearby fountain.  God knows they looked hot enough to make a man die of thirst.  You drank deep from the fountain.  A bit of hydration was necessary anyhow, you just finished a session at the college gym a few minutes ago.  You don't know why you bothered to rinse off at the showers if you were just going to get soaked from sweat by the school's never-ending humidity and stagnant air.

Fuck it, you needed more than water right now.  You wipe your hand over your mouth and head for the campus convenience store.  They had a few of the bigger bottles of musclemilk for sale , even if they did cost about two dollars too much.  You check your pockets.  You have enough petty change to blow for the day.  It was a smart investment -easy protein and a cool, sweet drink.  Win-Win.

You stroll easily through the twisting hallways and the crowds the ebbed and flowed.  More sweaty people.  Most of them needed more deodorant.  You really hope you weren't going to pass out from nausea today.  Eventually you maneuver your way to the on-campus store.  For some reason the ac in there works very slightly better than the rest of the school, so it's always crowded, much to your dismay.  Well, you knew how to get through a crowd anyway.  With some well applied stares and firmly placed footsteps you manage to get exactly where you need with minimal bother.  In front of the drink cooler.   This backward campus actually had a pretty decent variety of drinks.  Sodas, vitamin waters,  coconut juice, as well as sane flavored juices that people would actually drink.  And then the protein shakes.  Just a matter of picking a flavor -strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, cookies-n-creme -it was like you were a greek demigod able to pick and choose from the fruits of olympus at will. It was a good feeling.

You pick strawberry.  A lot of people hate that flavor, but screw them, you like strawberries.  You shake the bottle with vigor.  With practiced footsteps you venture to the check-out counter.  Despite the crowd in the store, there is very rarely actual lines.  People just like to hang out in the cool air and look at shit they don't need, or don't want to spend an exorbitant amount of money on.  Whatever.  Less waiting for you.  You wonder if that one chick is...oh wait.  She is.  Your day just got better.

The campus store was normally run by bunnies that were very easy on the eyes, but there was one that bounced higher on your radar than the rest.  She was a cute little asian number.  Or at least you think she was asian.  There was a detectable tilt to her eyes that told you as much.  She was shorter, and  incredibly slim.  Her tits weren't as big as you liked, but they were perky enough to cheer up a terminal patient.  Same thing for her ass.  You would pass her in the halls from time to time and nearly always lost the battle to turn your head and appreciate the aftershow.  Her attitude was the only thing you couldn't quite decide on.  Quick, to the point, and a tongue sharp enough to cut your cock off.  All of your advances were met with enough resistance to stop a charging 18-wheeler.  But that never stopped you before.  You place your musclemilk on the counter.

You smile.  Not too wide, but just enough.  “Just the good stuff for now.”  She ran a hand through her long dark hair, moving a few strands of the red-and-purple highlights away from her forehead.  She looked at you with mild annoyance, but kept her professional composure.  You considered cracking it to be a game in and of itself.  She scanned the drink.

“Five-ninety-four.”  She said crisply.  You dig into your pocket to pull your wallet out.  “Y'know, when I said only the good stuff, I wouldn't mind taking some of you too.”  You held out a ten dollar bill.  She rolled her eyes and snatched it out of your hands a little too harshly.  “You take, what, fifty classes a week and you haven't learned how to take a compliment?”  She presses the buttons on her register very, very hard.  “You gotta smile.  Let's see those pearls.” Her mouth remains impassive.  Her hands are like oil as she processes the money.  You hold out your hand for the change.  She places it on the counter.  “Oh, come on, don't be that cold.  It's 110 degrees in here and you're making me wanna get a jacket.”  You gather your change while shaking your head.  The drink is sitting on the counter, slowly getting warmer.  “Can I get a bag for that?”  She rolls her eyes and bags the drink for you.  It's like you were pulling teeth.  This chick was hilarious.

You grab the bag and wave it around.  “You make my day, y'know?”  She narrows her eyes and says “Always a pleasure” with a strained smile.  You feel like you just won something.  You pull the drink out of the bag and toss it away.  The carton is shaken once more.  You twist off the plastic cap and take of whiff of the contents.  You tilt it back into your mouth.  Thick, hearty, rich, sweet.   It washes slowly down your throat and cools your chest.  God, you deserved this.  Alright, your day is starting to look up.  Next you should probab-

You bump into someone.  Your hand flexed tightly around the bottle, squeezing the drink into the air and all over yourself and the floor.  Your bag slides off your shoulder and your ankle twists in an uncomfortable position.  It all happened in a flash and the most agonizing of slow-motion.  Any attempts to recover just worsened your fall.  You hit the cap of your knee on the hard, tile floor and n a split second you feel the lid of a week's worth of stress and work go pop.  “What the fuck is your problem you asshole?”  You shove your assailant while yelling.  “This shit cost me six fucking bucks, are you gonna pay for that or what yo-”

It turns out it was a girl that bumped into you.  She yelps and falls to the floor, her eyes wide in confusion and fear.  You suddenly feel ashamed for pushing her, but only slightly.  At least you used your shoulder instead of your hands.  You look at her: Her appearance is pretty disheveled, dirty blonde hair, baggy gray clothes, and a lazy eye.  She quickly covers it with her long sleeves “Please! 'M sorry, don't hurt me,” she cried  Fuck.  You pushed one of the mental kids.  You realize you have a hand raised and a fist clenched.  This suddenly looks pretty bad.  Folks are staring.  You try to laugh it off, rub the back of your head with your hand. “Shit, uh- Sorry.  Overreacted there.  Yeah.”  You hold out a hand to the girl on the floor.  She stumbles back and stands up on her own.  You take a few steps back, arms spread out low.  “My bad.  It's the heat, yeah?  Way to hot in this place.  Drive's a guy crazy. Just...watch where you're going next time, yeah?”  A few of the other students make sure the girl is alright.  Fucking slow kids.  No accountability whatsoever.  Some ask you if you're cool, chill out, need a smoke or something, c'mon, let's hang outside instead.  “Yeah.  Outside.  That sounds good.  I'm sorry.  Really sorry.  Yeah.”  You hold your hands open and back away.  A scene was the last thing anyone wanted in this atmosphere.  The gross looking girl nods and mutters “Yeah.  Fine” in a slow, slightly slurred voice.  Her hazel eyes avoided your gaze.  Or at least they were trying too.  The tension in the room deflates and people go about their business.  You move towards the courtyard.

Nearly dodged a big fucking bullet there.  You didn't need another campus scuffle under your belt.  You didn't really get caught for that last one, thank God.  The asshole had it coming anyway.  You sit down on a bench and  wipe the remainder of your drink off your hands and onto your jeans.   The loss of your shake pissed you off more than anything else. Goddamned retards.  Six fucking dollars.

”Here.”  You turn your head towards the voice and see a hand holding out a bottle of strawberry musclemilk.  “What is”

“You lost your other one.”  It's the cashier chick.  Now you're just confused.  You stare at the bottle blankly.  She motions it towards you again.  You slowly accept the bottle.  This was a new game... “Thanks...yeah, thanks.”  You toss the cool bottle between your hands.  “Not my smoothest moment back there.”  You laugh nervously.  She crossed her arms.  “I'd hope not.”

”I'm not like that.  I swear.  I just finished working out, you know how it is.  All that blood pressure gets in your ears and throws you off balance.  I was just caught off guard.”  You wave the bottle “Thanks.”

“It's only fair.  You bought a drink, you get the drink.”  You nod.  “Sounds fair enough.”  She looked at you expectantly.  You take the cap in between your fingers and twist the plastic.  If hisses a little louder than normal.  You lift it to your mouth slowly.  From the look on her face it's like the only thing that exists is you and the bottle.  What's this chick's problem?  You drink it and...and....

And it tastes like a perfectly normal protein shake.  Refreshing, in other words.  You sigh contentedly.  “You have no idea how much I needed that.”  She nods briskly and sits down next to you on the bench.  “I would expect as much after all that.” She stuck a finger back in the store's direction.  You nod.

“I feel bad about that.  I should be smarter than that, but it's just that those damn re- I mean, this place needs bigger hallways.  And a new air system.”  You go quiet.  This school needs fucking handlers is what it needs.  You see her shake her head.  She crosses her arms.  “It takes more than cramped halls and hot air to make someone explode like that.”

”Maybe...” You take another drink of your milk.  She looks at you with tight, unmoving eyes.  “You're always walking around with this tight look.  Even when you're failing to hit on me.  You look wound up.”

“Just stress, is all.  You know how it is.  Family gets to you, work hands you a shovelful of bullshit and asks you to smile.  School, grades and crap.”  This could be your in.  “I know you can understand that.  You're here, like, all the time.  Either in class, or working the store, taking shit from assholes like me”  She smirks at that,  “Must drive you insane.”  She smiles, just a little.

”Sometimes.  You're not the worst, believe it or not.”  You open your mouth halfway and look offended.  “Well that just means I'm not trying hard enough.”

”Obviously.,” she says in that clear cut way.  Except this time the edges don't feel as sharp.  You stretch an arm behind her head on the bench.  “Well, I'd like the opportunity to try harder.  Tenacity has to count for something.”  She purses her thin but elegant lips and leans back.  “Maybe.”

“No,”  You wave a hand.  “Don't give me a 'maybe.'  It's too hot for that teasing crap.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Just a little stress relief.  Knock back a few, watch a flick and trash-talk it,  vent, just see what happens.  You say you're gonna go insane, then talk a little crazy.  Cuss, jesus.  When's the last time you've dropped an F-bomb.”  She looked shocked.

“I don't have to-”

“No, you don't, but it feels amazing, trust me,” you speak from experience.  “Smart girl like you can probably swear, way fucking better than me.  And I've had practice.”  She lowered her eyebrows and stared at you.

“You're very forward,” she said not completely negatively.

You raise your hands up in defense.  “I ain't got no use for being backwards, babe.”  You take another swig.  “You say I always look wound up.  I say you always look wound up.  I just say we oughta get together.  Loosen up.  See?  Help each other out.”  She smiles in a way that says she thinks she's smarter than the person she's talking to.  You've seen smiles like that before.  You know how to work around it.

“Alright then.  Fine.  You've convinced me.  We'll hang out.  Say swear words.  Go a little crazy.”

“It'll be fun, trust me.”  She writes down her number and hands it to you.

“Oh, I'm quite sure.” She grins mischievously.

“What's your name again?”

She rolls her eyes.