Phone Game Chapter 3 By Roe St. Alee
This story contains sexual content involving college age males. If this offends you, or this material is illegal where you live, please leave this page immediately. This story is a work of fiction, and any similarities to real life people, places, and situations is purely a coincidence.
If the above does not offend you, please enjoy! I plan to update this story every other week, so bear with the short chapters and slow start ;)
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I wasn't wrong about this being an early morning. But considering I woke up at five thirty every day during my senior year of high school, eight shouldn't feel this brutal.
I managed to drag myself out of bed a few minutes after my alarm and was barely able to get Josh out of bed on time. After a minute of two of frantic tooth brushing, a quick pee, and throwing on a halfway presentable outfit, we managed to get out the door.
We each stuff our faces with leftover room temperature pizza on our walk across campus and sneak into the lecture hall just in time. In the back row of the hall we stealthily find two seats next to each other right as the professor is walking in.
As he sets down his bag and arranges a few papers on the podium in front of him, I'm surprised by how young he looks. Clearly older than someone like me or Josh, but the differences are slight if you compare him to some of the upperclassmen I've seen walking around on campus. I'd say he's thirty at the absolute max.
He's average height, with short brown hair and a beard. With his thick framed glasses, brown tweed jacket, and raised eyebrows, at the moment he looks like a stock photo of a young college professor.
"Good morning," he says.
A giggle ripples through the audience as his voice is barely audible above the din. He clearly thought his microphone would be working.
He reaches under the podium and makes some kind of adjustment then speaks again.
"Good morning."
His voice comes over the speakers loud and clear this time, and then noise level in the hall drops to nothing in the course of a second.
"That's better," he says, nodding to the lecture hall. "Let me be the first person to officially welcome you to Walton College."
He mimes a bow to us and a few students cheer.
"Good," he says. "Nice to have a little energy in the room this morning. You're in for a riveting day of orientation, so feel free to react appropriately when anything especially exciting happens. I am Adam Lowry, Dean of Students. But by all means, you are welcome to call me Professor Lowry."
There is a little bit of laughter in the hall, and the professor smiles wryly at us. It shows a little more personality as he does so. Dry sense of humor and a little sarcastic if I had to guess.
Even from where I'm sitting I can see his eyes shining in that slightly biting way that some people do when they make a bad joke. I imagine a few of the girls in the room - and probably Dylan - are swooning a bit as he does. He's fairly handsome, and the fact that he's a professor can't hurt either.
"Today will indeed be an exciting day. Guest speakers, a chance to meet with your advisors and finalize your class schedule, the student activities expo, and..." He pauses dramatically. "And the chefs at the dining hall have prepared a hell of a lunch for you all."
There's a lone whoop from the front of the hall and we all laugh. Professor Lowry smiles his wry smile again.
"But first, of course," he says, "I'll be reviewing the Student Code of Conduct and our Title IX requirements with you."
The crowd silences instantly to the point that you could hear a pin drop. Lowry raises his eyebrows and looks around the room. It's only a second, but I almost feel like he makes eye contact with every student in the hall. Something about it makes me think that crossing Professor Lowry, regardless of the humor in his eyes, would be a bad, bad idea.
After a full five seconds of deafening silence, he concedes and the smile returns.
"Alright," he says, "I'll give you one more chance to enjoy yourselves before that. Seeing as we're all new here, take a minute and introduce yourselves to no less than four people sitting around you.
A collective sigh of relief washes over us, followed by the sounds of a hundred simultaneous, impromptu conversations in every direction.
I start my rounds by pretending to meet Josh. We shake hands and give each other a nod before turning to the other freshman around us.
To my right and sitting in the row in front of me, I meet Tyler, who is from the city and thinks he wants to major in chemistry or biology. To his immediate left is James, Tyler's roommate. Computer science for James, who just got back from an internship at an app developer in Madison. They both seem nerdy, but friendly, and they live on a different floor of our same dorm. I'm sure I'll be seeing them around.
I turn to my left.
"I'm Corey. What's going on?"
Her hand is already outstretched to me, tilted forward with a slight air of casual indifference. I freeze for half a second, but manage to stick out my own hand before it gets obvious. She shakes it and smiles at me, a sort of half smile, similar to the one Professor Lowry has given us a few times this morning.
"Hi," I say. "I'm Jake."
Our hands shake up and down once. And then again. And then...
I pull my hand away. A little too fast. But I didn't want it to be weird.
Corey's smile gets wider and then turns into a laugh. It's not directed at me, but I can't say that it has the same inviting tone as Josh's does. Maybe somewhere in the middle.
"What are you studying?" she asks.
"Uh, journalism I guess?"
It wasn't supposed to be a question. I am studying journalism. Why am I being like this?
She nods. "Interesting," she says. There's something about her tone, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It's not unfriendly, but it's almost like she knows something that I don't. I don't dislike it, but I can't say it puts me at ease.
The rest of the room is starting to take their seats, and Professor Lowry is stepping back up to the podium from the front row of students, where he was making his own introductions. I decide to cut my losses and take a seat before I can do or say anything else strange.
As I'm dropping into my seat I can see Corey doing the same out of the corner of my eye. As she settles back into her chair and picks up her cup of coffee, she turns her head toward me about twenty degrees. Just enough to get my attention.
"I'll be seeing you around, Jake."
The instant she says it, Lowry launches in about the code of conduct. I don't have time to parry with something clever, or respond in any meaningful way, really. I don't even have time to take it in, to properly digest the dry smirk that accompanied her comment. Instead it's all about our commitment to academic integrity, the reputation of our entire university in our hands, and the penalties for not taking those responsibilities seriously enough.
Not that I would have had much of anything clever to say. I was, as usual, somewhat stunned in the midst of a conversation.
And of course it wasn't her words, but something about them. It was her tone, like she knows something that I don't, or has something that I haven't yet realized. It wasn't unkind, but it inspired this strange need to prove myself, to show that I do in fact know and have the things that she thinks I don't.
Maybe that's what flirting is?
Because she is pretty, there's no use in denying that. And that is certainly part of what had me on my heels. I wouldn't have said she was my type, but her looks go well with the cold, quiet confidence that she has. A plain but not unpretty face, and rough in a way that conveys a toughness underneath it. I didn't get a good look at her body from a chair a foot away, but it seemed like she was in good shape. Long, natural blonde hair. And that certain attitude, smug but strangely inviting.
Allure. Maybe that's the right word.
Long story short, a quarter of all that would be enough to make my words catch in my throat, and I was even less eloquent than usual in our conversation. I'm not much of a talker in the first place, and when you throw a decently pretty girl in the mix I'm sure to clam up wonderfully.
I sneak a look over at her and try to take it in, just at Professor Lowry is starting his discussion on Title IX. The irony is not lost on me.
She's pretty. But hard to say if she was really bowling me over with her looks or just catching me off guard. I take a mental snapshot of her, and decide that I do indeed want to see her around this semester.
After another hour of what I am starting to consider my first college-level lecture, we conclude with our safety guidelines and resources. To summarize, don't drink too much and always call an ambulance if someone is unresponsive. I think I can remember that.
"I hope I haven't bored you all completely to death," Lowry says, checking his watch. "Because there's more."
He looks out at us, daring someone to groan at his announcement.
"But don't worry," he says with good humor, "it's not from me. It's time for our first guest speaker."
Lowry looks to his left and nods, and I notice a figure start to move from the front edge of the lecture hall. Tall, muscle-bound, and confident, he strides over to the lecturn, flashing a big, winning smile. It's none other than...
"Kyle Bang, your Student Body President."
The crowd claps appropraitely, mixed in with a smattering of giggles here and there. Kyle steps up to the microphone.
"Good morning," he says, "and let me be the second person to officially welcome you to Walton College."
He winks at Professor Lowry, who has taken a seat in the front row with the students.
"It is truly good to see so many new faces, with so much to add to our fantastic campus."
His eyes scan the room, taking in all of our fresh, eager - and sometimes smitten - faces.
"I've already met a handful of you..."
His eyes have reached the top of the hall and I swear they linger on me for just a second longer than they should. He continues talking, but I stop breathing.
"...and I am extremely excited to meet the rest of you in the coming weeks and months. We aren't just a campus here, but a community, and we are a community that listens to, works with, and supports each other."
He goes on from there. Talking about how it's a small campus. How we'll all meet and work with each other over time. How he and all the professors, up to the university president, have an open door policy. And how we're at our best working together, being united but diverse.
But his words are lost to me, as I'm just thinking about him.
I knew I had seen the name before yesterday, and it must have been in some of our preorientation info that they sent during the summer. The student body president, Kyle Bang.
And while I laughed at the name when I first read it, I had no idea the person that it was attached to.
Last night I had gotten to see him a tank top, but today he's in a suit and tie, looking somehow even more objectively attractive than he did before. While I got to see more skin yesterday, the fact that I know what's under those full sleeves and jacketed shoulders makes it all the more intrigueing.
Needless to say, he fills out the suit.
And maybe that explains a little bit more about why he is able to put out that crazy vibe he does. Why he's able to stop people in their tracks like he does.
At least, I'm assuming he has that same effect on more than just me and Josh.
It's because he really is the total package, and he knows it. A tall, fit, accomplished person, with the body of a Greek statue and the credentials of an Ivy Leaguer. Captain of the rugby team, student body president, and an inarguable perfect ten.
"Again, on behalf of the entire student body, we welcome you to your first year at Walton. We know that you will make the most of it, and every person you see on campus is here to help you do that."
Sensing the end of his speech, I focus back in on what Kyle is actually saying, instead of just what Kyle is. He unleashes a smile on the crowd one last time before he finishes.
"We are one campus. One community. And when I say we - that now, officially, includes you."
The lecture hall bursts into more applause than is probably necessary for an eight minute speech from the typical student body president, but I'm right there with them. Kyle continues to smile and nods appreciatively as he steps back from the podium. He looks across the room and gives a wave...
And it happens again.
His eyes move across the rear of the hall, and they stop. He looks at me for a fraction of a second, but this time I'm even more sure that it happens. He definitely looked at me, specifically, in the whole crowd of people.
But why?
We met - and I hesitate to even use that word - for approximately one second yesterday. He nodded to me, didn't say anything. Why would he be singling me out in the crowd like that?
Or, to be fair, maybe it really is just my imagination.
"...and then we will break for lunch. Lunch will take place concurrently with our activity expo, as well as a chance for you to meet with your individual advisors to talk about any changes you might want to make to your class schedule."
I tune back in and realize Lowry is in the middle of another one of his speeches. I hope the first part wasn't that important.
"At two o'clock we will need to be back in the lecture hall for a few more remarks from a handful of our faculty, our student activities chair, and Dr. O'Boyd, who, if you didn't know, is our university president."
Lowry checks his watch and nods.
"It's eleven thirty right now, which means we have two and a half hours. Before we officially break for lunch, does anyone have any questions?"
The tiny bit of rustling and murmuring in the hall in preparation for our lunch break seems to stop instantly at the professor's offer to ask a question. Lowry raises his eyebrows at us in return.
"No one has any questions at all?"
More silence.
"Oh really?" Lowry smiles at the room, but it has a quality I didn't notice before. It's intense in a way, and provocative. In the sense that he's daring you to do something, that it. "No one wants to single themselves out and ask a question in front of the entire freshman student body on their first day at school?"
When he puts it like that, of course I don't.
"What's your favorite color?"
The silence is broken by the question from my left, and then, understandably, by a chorus of laughter. I sneak a glance across my shoulder and see that Corey is wearing a smirk strikingly similar to that of Professor Lowry.
"Grey."
The professor meets Corey's gaze and seems genuinely unfazed, but there is humor in his eyes.
"Thank you Miss Beesay. Any other questions?"
Corey doesn't miss a beat.
"What's your favorite color that isn't boring as hell?"
The laughter this time is less, and intermingled with a few gasps, which all dies to silence almost immediately.
My eyes turn slowly from Lowry back to Corey, and I must look absurd with my mouth practically hanging open. I can't imagine how this is going to go well for her.
I was right about her being intriguing, but maybe that was just the tip of the iceberg. Can you get expelled for backtalking a teacher on the first day?
Corey, for here part, still has that smile on her face. As she sees me turning to face her, she throws me a wink.
Lowry does not look pleased at her follow up question. He frowns for a moment, then tilts his head to the side, never breaking his gaze, fixed directly on Corey. He holds this position for what seems like an enternity, but then it breaks. The edges of his lips start to curl upward until they return to his previous coy smile.
"Dark grey."
Before anyone has a chance to react, Lowry dismisses us for lunch.
"Thank you for your attention this morning. Your RAs are just outside the doors to guide you to lunch. Lunch, activities fair, and your scheduled appointment with your advisor. Check the lists in the dining hall if you can't remember..."
The rest of his words are mostly drowned out by the rustling and shuffling of a few hundred students getting up at the same time. I grab my backpack and turn to my left to get Corey's attention before lunch. This is definitely a person I want to know better.
Now that my nerves are more settled I figured I would have more to say. She's possibly even more intimidating than she was two hours ago after the stunt she just pulled, but I've had some time to digest her presence, and I think I can probably hold a conversation at this point.
But she's already gone. I silently kick myself for being so nervous and awkward all the time. I'm doing ok, but I need to work on my first impressions.
I turn back to Josh and we make our way over to the mess hall. Maybe I can catch her after lunch.
We see Calvin on our way out and he says hi and introduces himself to Josh. He's every bit as friendly as he was when I met him, but still has that little bit of a sarcastic edge that I got yesterday. I wonder if it's part of his personality or just the standard way an upperclassman talks to a bunch of freshmen.
Lunch is surprisingly good with a lot of different options, which is a relief. Each of my parents had very different things to say about their dining halls in college, so I was a little bit worried. Especially being a vegetarian, I'm glad to see a lot of good choices.
We sit and talk with each other and a few people Josh introduces me to who he either knows through his brothers or from home. A bit after twelve Josh heads over to his advisor meeting and I make my way to the activity fair to see what clubs I might be interested in joining.
The dining hall is connected to our student union, and the entire union hall is packed with tables, posters, banners, and students. For a smaller school like ours, it's amazing to see how many clubs there are. From what I can tell, each student must be in about five clubs each.
There's a sailing club, sustainability club, poetry society, improv groups, body acceptance initiative, engineering fraternity, pride group, and so much more. You name it, students have banded together to share their passions and collect a few bucks in student activity funds.
I figure I'll head straight back to the student paper, which is the one extracurricular I know I'll be working on while I'm in school. I've sent a few emails back and forth with one of the editors in the last few weeks, and he said he thought I would be a good fit.
I see the banner for the Walton College Monitor all the way in the back of the hall, and make my way in that direction. About halfway into the room I find myself stuck in a clog of about twenty or thirty people, all making their ways toward a table on the right.
Pushing forward, I squeeze my way through the crowd and break back into the aisleway. I glance to my right to see what could be so popular and it instantly makes sense.
The Walton College Rugby Club.
It's no surprise, as the young man holding court at the table is none other than Kyle Bang. He looks more relaxed than he did during his speech earlier, welcoming people up to the table, introducing himself, shaking hands, and probably recruiting half the freshman population into playing or becoming a diehard fan of rugby.
The suit is just killing me. He wears it so well, but also looks like he might tear it off at any second to reveal a cape and a spandex costume. Which is not an altogether unappealing visual to think of.
I realize I'm standing in the middle of the aisle and staring. I need to head over to the newspaper and introduce myself. I'm certainly not going to be playing-
Damn.
Just as I'm peeling my eyes away from Kyle, he looks up directly at me. There's no question, he caught me looking.
"What about you?"
His voice cuts through the crowd and several people at the table turn to look at me.
"Are you coming out for the team?"
As usual and even then some, I'm speechless. What am I supposed to say to that? Of course not! Why would he even be asking someone like me? I might be fast, but I'm little bit small and scrawny when I think about your average rugby player's body. A lot bit when I think about Kyle Bang's body.
"You don't have to be big to play," he says as though he's reading my mind. "Plus, you look fast."
I can feel my brain doing its usual trick. I try to think of something to say but the seconds tick by and nothing is coming out. I'm standing dumbly in the aisle at the student activity fair with forty of my new classmates staring at me, not to mention the unassailable Kyle Bang.
It always feels like this. The tunnely feeling creeping in to the edges of my vision, and a weight on my chest as I try to remember to breathe. Talking to Kyle anytime was going to be bad enough, but why do I have to do it in front of everyone? Why is it always so hard for the words to find their way from my brain to my mouth?
"Oh no. Oh no you don't!"
A hand comes down on my shoulder, and the voice behind me snaps me out of my trance. It's Calvin.
"You're not poaching another one of my runners, Bang. Not again."
Kyle laughs and I see Calvin smiling out of the corner of my eye. This clearly isn't a tense confrontation, but I seriously appreciate the support from my RA.
"If you say so, Woody," Kyle replies. "What's your name?"
I suddenly realize that I'm ten feet closer to Kyle than I was a minute ago. Calvin must have steered us in that direction while they were talking. I'm starting to feel it again, whatever it is, just like I did last night.
"His name-"
"Jake," I say, before Calvin can finish. "Jake Spitzer."
I'm not sure how I found the courage, but I feel a little better as soon as I say. My bottled up words make the pressure, and saying anything at all seems to provide a pleasant relief.
"It's good to meet you, Jake."
Kyle's gaze hasn't left me this whole time, but I can't quite find the courage to meet it.
"Whatever Woody says," he continues, "keep your options open. It's college, after all, and you might want to try something new."
Calvin is already backing us up, walking away from the situation. If nothing else, I owe him one for getting me through this.
"No way, Bang," he calls out as he turns us around, "this one is mine. Jake is mine."
Kyle laughs again.
"We'll see about that."
It's a friendly challenge if anything, but there's something else about it. Some part of his tone that I can't quite make out.
I turn back over my shoulder to see if Kyle's expression lets on to what he means, and my stomach jumps. His eyes are still locked directly onto me.
"See ya around, Jake Spitzer."
In the next chapter: A paper surprise. Ice Cream! And the first communication...