Fresh Meat

Superb Eats

Just trying to get to the restaurant proved to be a lot more difficult than one would have suspected. Because Isabella and I hadn't exchanged any form of communication with each other before we'd separated, our communication was a little staggered. I was parked outside of South Bestland for almost 30 minutes before I finally saw Isabella waltz out with her roommate. When I had finally spotted her, I let out a heavy sigh as I started the car, oddly thinking the worst had happened. Apparently Zoomers did rely too heavily on their technology.

"Oh, thanks for showing up." My glum sarcasm might have come off a little too harsh for a first get-together.

"What do you mean?" Isabella countered as she hopped into the front passenger seat.

"I thought we said pizza at 6:30?"

"Yeah, isn't it 6:30?" She looked at the radio in my car, ushering my eyes towards the clock.

"That's off by half an hour," I mumbled. "It's actually seven."

"What!" She anxiously fumbled around for her phone before finding it in a pocket. Turning it on, she was startled to find I was correct.

"If you don't mind me asking," the roommate began, who I hadn't even noticed had already slipped into the backseat and fastened her seatbelt. "Why is your clock off?"

"It's a long story," I replied, shifting gears as I placed a foot on the gas pedal. "It involves me not knowing how to change it."

"Gotcha," she replied. "I'm Keira, Keira Armstrong."

"Nick Fleming." I directed a comforting smile into the rearview mirror, hoping she could see it. Keira was the exact same height as Isabella, with a style just as unique as her roommate's. While Isabella was rocking the astropunk vibe with her cosmic ensemble, Keira definitely rode the cottagecore aesthetic hard. With painted jeans and a cow print tee, not to mention the amber-colored beginnings of a mullet, she looked as if she had been freshly plucked from a wheat field.

After a short drive down from the bluff, we arrived at the restaurant fairly hungry. The building beside us was covered in dark red bricks, similar to those of the campus buildings. Looking through the windows, I could see the place had a combination of modern decorations and darkened colors, giving it a chic look. The smell wafting around outside was ponderous; so flavorful that all three of our stomachs harmonized into a collective grumble. In response to the new found hunger, the three of us entered the building and sat down in moments.

"Do you have any recommendations, Keira?" I began, my eyes roaming along the menu.

"I always get the Formaggi Bianca." An eager grin painted her face while pointing to a white-sauce pizza with garlic and smoked provolone.

"Do you come here often?" I asked, noting her use of "always".

"Pfft," she scoffed. "Only the few times I toured and today."

"Keira's from out of state," Isabella explained. "A transfer student from Tennessee."

"Oh," I replied. "What brought you up here then?"

"The arts program." Keira stated it like it was a matter-of-fact situation, but it came off as news to me. Interpreting my reaction, she continued, "This school is loaded with great classes for painting, drawing, and ceramics. They even have a glass-blowing studio. Plus it's seriously cheap, which made it my number one choice."

"That's amazing, I had no idea," I admitted. When I had toured, I wasn't really interested in learning about the arts program, but apparently I had missed out. "I assume your degree is somewhere in that area?"