Equilateral Love

Chapter 1 - Making New Friends; Part 2

Brianna

Meeting Michael that first day in Speech was probably the only thing that kept me from either coming unhinged or just withdrawing into an impenetrable shell over the course of my first semester. My only actual friends had moved away, up state, to go to school with my fucking sister, which left me sort of feeling almost like she had stolen them too – and also, perhaps more pertinently, left me alone. Granted, it was more than a lack of ambition that had led me not to even apply for that preppy-ass private school, which every person who talked to me seemed to insist was a "better fit" for me or whatever, and granted, I was sort of dimly aware of a bunch of people from high school still around, drifting past me on campus like ships in the night, much as they had done in the halls at high school – but it meant nothing. They weren't my friends then, and they weren't my friends now, and there was a profound loneliness lurking like a shadow in the back of my mind, just behind the peppy enthusiasm I had gathered together to make new friends.

The daily commute from mom and dad's house would have been manageable, but I had insisted on spending my first year on-campus to maximize my freshman socialization potential. And . . . maximized though it might have been, the results were still somewhat lackluster. My roommate was sort of sullen and antisocial – which, relatable – but she seemed more interested in hitting her dab pen and scrolling on her phone than talking, or . . . showering, for that matter, and we sort of failed to make a connection. I spent the start of every class kind of scouting for new faces to introduce myself to, and although I managed a couple polite hellos, nothing really came of any of them except Michael. He was sort of perfect, in a weird way – attractive, with thick, hairy arms, mussed hair, and a predictable shadow of unattended stubble around his rounded jaw – and he had this sort of unassailably casual attitude, a kind of genial, understanding coolness that sort of complimented my nervous lonely-girl energy. But we were both too shy.

That first evening we met up in the dorm basement was awesome, but it was also . . . awkward. I mean, I'm sorry, it's hard to find another way to describe it. It was just the two of us, and it was nice – it was really nice – but we'd get a joke in, have a laugh, and then there would just be another silence, and he would cook for a bit while we both quietly brainstormed something else to say. There was that sort of casual coolness, but there was also sort of a pressure – I kept thinking come on Brianna, this is your first friend in college, this could be your first college BOYFRIEND – be cute, be funny! And, you know – something about that makes being cute and funny even harder than normal.

It didn't help that those little pangs of insecurity just kept welling up in the back of my mind, unbidden, like fucking vomit – this guy was kind of too normal, right? I mean, if I was thinking I might want to end up dating him, maybe I should be shooting . . . lower, kind of? Or . . . that's the wrong way to put it, I'm sorry. I just mean that, even though he was a little shy, Michael was just kind of cool, and easygoing, and he had those great, hairy arms, and he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up to the elbows, and . . . and he sorta just had the vibe of a boy my sister would steal, you know? Like we'd go on one date, or two, and then he'd start asking about her, and they'd start talking every time he came over, and before long they'd have a little fling, and then she'd move on and I'd never hear from him again. You know. That sort of thing.

Plus . . . I mean, this was a frequent problem, hard one to avoid, I mean, he wasn't short or anything – he was probably 6' or 6' 1" or something, and not a ton of dudes are taller than that, but when I stood near him I was intensely aware that I was about the same height, that my fucking shoulders were almost as wide as his, and I just felt that old familiar urge to just fucking disappear – to curl up like a pillbug and roll under a table somewhere. And part of me just felt like I should be hanging out with someone . . . you know, bigger? I dunno. Maybe he doesn't care, I kept telling myself, maybe he doesn't even notice – maybe he hasn't even realized that you're a fucking giantess, Jesus Christ, fuck –