paper with a crashing thump. The boy who sauntered into the room screamed danger and pure rebellion. His hair was close cropped and almond brown. Tattoos protruded through the short sleeves of his form fitting black polo shirt. His arms fined tuned to hard granite, perfected from dedicated hours of punching a heavy bag or bench pressing rusty, iron plates. His eyes started fires – a fire between my legs. Which hadn’t been extinguished since prom. He went to the back of the room and sat down. Everything about him exuded masculinity; from his strong chin to his square jaw line. His face told a story of bare knuckle brawls and busted lips. A small scar decorated his upper lip. He had a dimple in the middle of his chin, but a pretty boy he was not. I hated pretty boys. I hated guys who took longer to get ready or spent more time in the mirror than women did. His face was a one that never backed down from fight. A bit weathered, but still handsome enough to walk on a runway in Paris. “ Damn girl. Pick that jaw up off the floor. Who knows if they mopped in here last night.” I said nothing; my neck was stretched around, almost behind my shoulders, still trying to get a glimpse. “Don’t leave too much drool on the floor Selena, somebody might slip and fall. I might need to put up one of those yellow caution signs.” Candace’s laughing became a bit too loud for my taste. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. “Go say something to him after class.” “ And talk to him about what? Botany? Look at him and look at me.” I looked at the floor and shook my head. I already knew he wouldn’t like big girls. Most men in shape like him wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl like me. Especially in college. That’s social suicide. Story of my life. “If I went up to him he’d probably laugh. Or vomit. Or both. Vomit, then laugh.” “ Maybe. But what if he doesn’t?” Candace shot a glance at me, her head titled and her eyebrow jutted upwards. “ I bet he’s gay.” More excuses Selena. Despite her cheerleading, as well as her being right, if I did decide to go and talk to him, I’d wimp out at the last minute. How could someone as cute as him be interested in someone at my weight? I bet he has a box of stolen panties from all the six foot, blonde, half anorexic bombshells walking around campus. I’m too much woman for him anyways. He wouldn’t be able to handle all of me. His loss. “ Fuck. Never date a gay guy. Trust me. Worst month ever. The idea of your boyfriend loving to go shoe shopping only sounds good on paper. Absolutely overrated.” “ If you say so. Even if he isn’t, I don’t look like his type.” “ Whatever. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you never take.” “ What are you a TV basketball analyst now?” “ No, I watch a lot of Tony Robbins clips on Youtube - sue me. But the thing is, I just know boys. Go and introduce yourself. Before I do.” I just knew he’d go for the ones who stick their tongue down their throat after lunch. I loved food. But, more importantly, I loved my body. Even though my hips were a bit wider this summer, I still love them. And if he didn’t love them, then I didn’t need him . But as bad I wanted to write him off, I couldn’t stop looking at him. Surely I would have a crook in my neck tomorrow morning. He sat alone in the corner with a ‘dontfuckwithme’ look plastered on his face. He looked withdrawn, as if this class, this university was below him. The professor finally walked into the class and every student placed their phones down on the desk; except for my Mr. Mysterious in the back. He didn’t bother to look up when the Professor Samuels introduced himself. As he passed out the syllabus to each of us he described the ongoing project we had to work on throughout the semester. He would group us in pairs. Each pair would need to create a product and develop a marketing plan for it. It would be due before the final exam .