The nickname stuck. Over the next two weeks, Cole became a ghost in my peripheral vision. Coffee shop. Library steps. The dining hall at exactly 7:15 PM. Always with that half-smile. Always with a new question.
“I look sober,” I said. “There’s a difference.”
“What’s your biggest fear?” (Spiders. And graduating with no plan.) “What’s a memory you’d relive?” (My dad teaching me to drive stick shift.) “Who broke your heart first?” (A boy named Liam. Sophomore year of high school. Cliché.)
Because the real rule of college isn’t about avoiding trouble. College Rules - Lucky Fucking Freshman
Cole didn’t ask my name. He just leaned against the wall next to me and said, “You look like trouble.”
“So,” he said. “Am I your first college… thing?”
Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t believe the hype. The nickname stuck
Afterward, we lay there in the dark. His arm under my head. The ceiling fan clicking on every rotation.
I laughed. “I look like I’m trying to find the bathroom.”
“My room’s five minutes away,” he said. Not a question. Library steps
“Special” in a guy’s vocabulary often means “convenient.” The Reality The next morning, he made me coffee in a mug that said “World’s Okayest Brother.” Walked me to the bus stop. Kissed me goodbye like we’d done it a thousand times.
“Second door on the left,” he said. “But come find me after.”