Golden Boy

E P I L O G U E

*EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Freshmen year of college started with a bang. I didn't know what to expect my first week at UCLA, but so far it was one for the books. My roommate was certified insane and insisted on coming up with the dumbest rules for me to follow. She didn't trust me because I was from New York and according to her, all New Yorkers were criminals—apparently even the ones from a small town where the crime rate isn't all that high. 

My classes were all a 20-minute walk away from each other, even though I only got 15 minutes in between classes, which meant I was jogging to most of them in hot LA weather. I already received quite of few looks as I showed to class sweaty and out of breath, meanwhile, everyone else looked straight out of a People's magazine shoot. 

To top it off, the one class I was looking forward to taking, was being taught by the devil reincarnate. My college experience was off to a great start, and it was only going to get better—I hoped. 

I made it to my last class of today, which was Introduction to Psychology. The professor was a young guy in his thirties, with a thick beard and black-rimmed glasses. He looked like the epitome of a college professor and like he sat in coffee shops surrounded by pupils discussing Freud's theory on personality.  

So far it was my favorite class, mostly because the professor was interesting and because it was my last class of the week. Every time I walked into this classroom, I knew that by the time I walked out, it would be the start of the weekend, which usually consisted of me binge-watching Netflix over face time with Dave and Cami, who equally had a hard time adjusting to their new lives at  Penn State and NYU. 

It was only the second week of classes, so I wasn't too worried about not living my college life to its full potential just yet. 

James, the only other guy in our Psych class, leaned over in his neighboring seat to whisper a greeting as he slipped in late to class for the second consecutive week. 

"Did I miss anything?"

"There was a pop quiz on Freud's theory on personality."

"Seriously?"

"No," I shook my head. "It's the second week of class, I'm lying."

"I'm going to remember that, don't you worry."

I smiled at him and then turned my attention back to the front of the room. I could feel his eyes on me for the rest of the class, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. 

"So, are you going out tonight?"

"To a party?"

"Yea, or one of the bars?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't had a chance to meet a lot of people yet, and my roommate is kind of a nightmare so I can't go with her."

"You can come with me and my friends. I'm James, by the way."

"Elliot," I respond, even though we had swapped introductions on the first day of class. "Where were you planning on going?"

"Havana just opened up downtown. It sounds like it's going to be all the rage."

I shrugged and thought what the heck. James was kind of cute, in that ruggish scatterbrained kind of cute. His friends were probably nice, and regardless what did it matter? I had no friends in this new school yet, so why not make some. "Sure, I'd love to come."

We exchanged numbers and bid goodbye only to start walking in the same direction because, as it turns out, we lived in the same dorm. His room was upstairs on the guy's floor. 

My roommate saw me getting ready to go out and judged me the whole time. I paid her no attention, but the urge to turn around to tell her to fuck off was strong. 

Eight o'clock rolled around and an entourage of 3 boys and 1 other girl showed up at my door to pick me up on the way out. James introduced me to his friends, Harry—a tall guy from Florida, Daniel—a pre-med student from New Jersey, and Kaley—a musician from San Fransico. 

Introductions went smoothly, and the next thing I knew I was in an Uber XL, pregaming on our way to the hottest bar in LA at the moment. Kaley was super sweet and latched onto me for the rest of the night, just glad to finally have another girl be apart of the group, regardless of the fact that this clique of friends didn't exist two weeks prior. 

She was the first to get drunk, taking just about every shot that was offered to her that night. I could tell this was the first time she's ever had the freedom to go out, just by the sheer amount of times she's said she's never tried specific alcohol. A couple of hours in, I deduced that she's never tried any alcohol prior to tonight. 

The bar was packed with college-aged people. Some faces I recognized from my classes, but most were a sea of strangers. I felt a little out of place, still adjusting to LA life. It wasn't like New York. I kept thinking there would be a lot of similarities between the two cities, but I was coming to realize that they were vastly different. For one, parties didn't start in New York until at least 10-11 pm. Here, you were considered to be out late if a party ended at 12am. I thought that was strange, but I guess in a city where people are constantly going out for drinks to secure their jobs, it had to be done in a timely fashion. 

I sat on the edge of a long sofa in one of the corners of the bar. Kaley sat next to me, staring at her phone, contemplating on texting her long-distance boyfriend who chose to go to school in Arizona. 

I drowned out her constant chatter about how much she missed him, my eyes focusing on a familiar set of blonde curls standing at the bar. 

It couldn't be him. I was 3,000 miles away from home. There was no chance that I could be running into anyone from my hometown, let alone the one person I was never keen on seeing. 

I heard his voice before I saw his face. He ordered a vodka soda on the rocks and then proceeded to lean back onto the bar, facing the crowd. I watched as his eyes hungrily wove through every face, never spending more than a second before moving on, as if searching for someone, until they finally landed on mine, where he held my gaze, a slow smile gracing his lips.

The bartender passed him his drink. He accepted it, taking a long sip before peeling away from the bar to come to stand right in front of me. 

"Elliot Edith, in the flesh," he grinned. 

"Jace Mason, what are you doing here?" I asked, shocked that he remembered me from high school and sought me out in a club filled with other beautiful women.

He sat down next to me, without an invitation, and set his drink on the table in front of us. "To win back what I once lost."

My head cocked to the side. I had no idea what he meant by that. We barely talked in high school, mostly because I refused to be one of his groupies that worshipped the ground he walked on, but also because he avoided me like the plague all of our senior year. I never got invited to one of his legendary parties, which hurt at the time, but looking back, I'm glad I never went. Cami said they weren't that fun—probably to not make me feel bad about not going. 

Kaley perked up at Jace's appearance, fixing her hair and pushing her boobs together. I'm sure her boyfriend would be happy to see how quickly she forgot he existed. Kaley leaned in to introduce herself. Jace didn't pay her any attention, his eyes never leaving mine. 

"Do you want to dance?" I asked. 

THE END