Don't Forget to Write

A "Nice" Girl

We entered, the bar was quiet. Most people were eating dinner and sipping on fancy cocktails. There was plenty of standing room, so the line outside seemed unnecessary. I saw a couple open barstools but Bruno kept on walking right to the back of the bar where there was a staircase. "Mark let us through," Bruno said to another tall, heavyset man. The man looked to the entrance and received a signal from Mark, then let us up the stairs. At the top, Bruno opened the door into a completely different world. There was barely enough space to breathe. Every square inch was occupied by dancing girls and smiling boys. We shimmied our way through the sweaty bodies and over to the bar where Bruno got us a round of shots and beers.

We leaned up on the bar and looked out onto the dance floor where scores of beautiful girls were twerking and grinding while a Biggie song played through the system. I was rapping along under my breath and Bruno was looking down the bar when he turned to me, "don't look now but there are two girls over there checking us out."

I swung my head and immediately made eye contact with two cute Hispanic girls who then smiled at me, I looked back down at my beer.

"Man, I said not to look. Have you no discretion? Now you have to go over there and ask them to dance."

"No. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Yeah well none of you white boys are," he said. "Oh, good. They're coming to us. Look natural. Try to be... nicer."

I pulled my hat lower. "Am I not nice?"

"Hi," the shorter of the two said. She had long black hair and deep brown eyes. She was wearing a black t-shirt and long jeans. She looked good, but out of place, since every girl here was wearing shirts to show off their cleavage and miniskirts that left very little to the imagination.

"Hi," I said.

"Do you remember me?"

"Uhh, no I don't think so," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bruno rest forehead in his hand.

"Go figure, you're usually asleep in class. When you show up, anyway. I'm your T.A., Camila."

"Oh, yes of course! Sorry. Are you gonna take points off my grade for not remembering you?"

She laughed, "You don't have any points to spare kid, I wouldn't be that cruel."

"Well, would I get a few extra points if I bought you a drink?"

"Hmm, I'd consider it. I'm drinking an IPA." I turned to the bar and got two drinks. Bruno's said in my ear, "that was the corniest thing I've ever seen. How did that work?"

I shrugged "White boy charm."

"I thought you were Hispanic."

I turned back around to respond, but Bruno and the other girl had disappeared onto the dance floor. Camila and I stood awkwardly. "Do you dance?" I asked her.

"I do, but not like this," she gestured around, "not with strangers, anyway,"

"Oh." We stood, waiting for the other person to say something, but not quite sure what to talk about ourselves. My brain felt broken. I was drunk as hell and could barely think clearly as it was. "You look pretty," I blurted out.

"Thanks," she smiled and looked away. "Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter? Away from these speakers?"

"Gladly." My head was going buggy from the bass of the speakers. Every time a heavy kick drum came through it phased me out of conscious thought for a nanosecond. The flashing lights everywhere were causing a pain right behind the scar, too, but I didn't want to leave yet. I could power through the headache and use alcohol as an excuse for any lapses in cognition. We walked to other side of the bar, the music was still loud but not so loud that we had to yell at each other. On this side of the bar, we were getting less bumped and rubbed up on by the sweaty bodies of horny young folks.

"So, what kind of student comes to one of the finest universities in the country, nestled in the heart of Harlem, pays his tuition, gets his books, and then proceeds to sleep through every class? What kind of scholar are you?" she asked, playfully, but also somewhat seriously.

"It wasn't every class. I was tired from waking up at 4:30 in the morning and not getting enough sleep."

"Sounds like someone lacks responsibility. What were you waking up so early for anyway?"

"Soccer practice."

"You're on the school team?"

"I was."

"What, did they kick you out?"

"No, they kicked Bruno out. I got injured."

"What happened?"

I told her the story about NYU. Camila listened the whole time and I couldn't stop looking into her eyes. We hardly ever broke eye contact. Most people look away after a couple of seconds but she held her gaze with confidence. Her eyes were big and deep, innocent and sweet despite her older age. When I finished, she asked if she could see the scar. "I don't think you want to, it's pretty gross."

"I love gross things."

I shrugged and took off the beanie. For a split second she made a twisted face with her mouth and nose, then reverted back to her normal face. "Ouch. That's terrible." I pulled the beanie low again as Bruno and the other girl approached.

"Woohoo, you guys are missing a hell of a time out there," Bruno said, slapping my back.

"We're having fun over here," Camila said. Bruno winked at me, nice Petey.

"Well, I'm all danced out. Would you two lovely gents like to come to our apartment?" The other girl asked Bruno. He, of course, agreed.