Ohlone College
Creative Writing Stories

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     The first day of class, he walked in five minutes late. Just my luck, there was an open seat located closest to the door and right next to me, so as not to disturb the instructor upon entrance. I first noticed his apparel. He wore this sleek pin-striped shirt with destroyed jeans and a pair of sexy designer shoes. His brown hair was short, but long enough to run your fingers through in bed (which I later did, how terrible). I felt like Brad Pitt had just walked into my chem class and chose me to be his lab partner. I felt inordinately special even though he obviously just wanted the best seat without having to walk across the room. 

As he settled into the chair to my left, the beat of my heart quickened. I swear it was audible to everyone sitting within a five feet radius of my chest. All I heard was the mingling of Brad Pitt's breathing patterns with my rampaging heart above the instructor's voice. Was I having a heart attack? A panic attack was more realistic. Whatever it was, I had never experienced it before. In a matter of minutes, my head was dizzy in circles and I had fell slump in my seat. Brad Pitt noticed I had passed out, immediately drawing attention to the class, as I was later told. He helped me up, and I came-to slowly. My gosh, I thought I was being held by an angel. One look in those icy eyes, and I was gone again. I should have known right then to switch classes and avoid ever crossing paths with him again to get rid of the desire I was feeling. But I figured I was tough enough to handle it. Everyone always does. Never over-estimate yourself.

While looking into my rescuer's eyes I smiled. The instructor asked if I was ok, and I promised we could go on with class without any further cases. For the next hour and ten minutes, I was eleven years younger, at age fifteen, only thinking about the cute boy sitting next to me. I thought of things like "Does he have a girlfriend? Does he think I'm cute? Will he think I'm a freak now because I passed out in class? Does he like my skirt, or think it's too short?"

     After class, Brad Pitt smiled at me again and asked if I was going to be alright for the rest of the day. I sort of laughed a little and assured him I'd be fine. It was just one of those freak things that happens every so often to us all. Then I got daring and asked, "What's your name?

     "Brad."    

     I should have guessed.     

After that, Brad became my friend. We hung out often, never mentioning any significant others. I wore my ring of course, but it seemed I was always unconsciously trying to hide my left hand from him. He was so sexy and smart. He even read books, which is rare in the attractive male population these days. Mike didn't read anymore. He was always too busy working so I could go back to school and we'd have enough to raise kids in the future. I missed seeing him often, but Brad kept me company.

Email author Melissa Bitz
mbitz1@email.unc.edu

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