Imogen
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My name's Sam Miller, and if I'm going to tell you the story of how I met the magnificent Imogen Jenkins then I need to start from the beginning.
At nineteen years old I started my first year at San Diego State University and to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I found out quickly that I loved to study in Build E's courtyard. Imogen was there every Tuesday and Thursday sporting a pleated black skirt and some collared shirt.
The first time I had seen her I was on my way back from a friends dorm stoned. It was well past ten at night when I saw her petite form hunched over a picnic table. With bloodshot eyes I did my best to inconspicuously snoop closer to see what she was doing. My bed could wait.
Her fingers were running over a book and taking notes with the other. I could barely see her light movements under the dim light the lamps that lined the path provided. How could she even see?
My stomach grumbled before I could have found out and I froze realizing she had stumbled in her writing and looked up. She looked around the court and my high ass closed my eyes and hoped the night would protect me from a painfully awkward encounter. Thankfully it did when she started cautiously studying again and I nearly sprinted the half mile back to my building.
I slept like a baby that night with Dorito dust under my fingernails.
At 4:00 pm she arrived the next night and so did I, wondering if my spaced out Sam brain had imagined her. I kept my distance for the first few weeks watching her study in the dark. Until I couldn't watch and wonder any longer.
The day I introduced myself was far from the day I fell in love with her, but it was the next best thing.
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I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as he stared across the table at me. I could seriously drown in his eyes. He was intoxicatingly attractive and he had to know it. That's why he was acting strange around me. For some reason, he looked at me as if I was the only one there with him. As if nobody else were here. And his voice... it pained me. It actually pained me with how utterly seductive and husky it always sounded. And the way he smelled all the time. I don't know why he smelled so strong, but I didn't mind. He smelled like evergreens and a hint of mint. It sounds like a bad combo, but it dizzied me with how lost I got in it. The thought of not being able to control myself, my thoughts and feelings and body when I'm around him, infuriated me. I was so good at holding myself together now, and he just unraveled me so easily, leaving me a mess. I wasn't the slightest bit afraid of him, and I had no idea why either. Just being in the same room, I felt like I didn't have to look over my shoulder. I didn't have to worry. I didn't even know who he was, and he still drew me in. "So, you were in California before? Why did you move?" Grace Hatfield asked, looking at him. She is our school's college and career advisor. She took me in and adopted me a couple years ago. She even gave me her last name. A saving grace. Why had she invited him here? Why did he come? He turned to her with a smile and a shrug. "Guess I just hadn't found what I was looking for yet." Something about the way he said it, sent a shiver down my spine. Why did I feel like there was so much more meaning behind his words than he was letting on? "Well, I hope you find what you're looking for." Grace said, and he turned to me with a devilish smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Something tells me that I will."
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