Parker sprawled out on his small twin dorm room bed and stared up at the speckled white tile ceiling. Over and over again he muttered, “how could I be such an idiot.” The door swung open and his lanky room mate Landon walked in sporting a backwards Phillies baseball cap, a white t-shirt, navy b-ball shorts and brightly colored Nikes. Parker pushed himself up from the bed, realizing suddenly that he had to do something, anything, to fix what had just gone down. “Be back soon,” he said, throwing on an oversized sweatshirt and sprinting out the door.
As he took the final steps to Lindsay’s room, flowers in hand, he planned out his elaborate apology. Maybe he could lie, say that Kylie was the one who had kissed him. He was just helping her bandage the cuts on her knees after he saw her fall in the park. At least the second part of this was true. Or he could go with the groveling technique, tell her it meant nothing, insist that she was the one he loved. He stepped up his door, raised his fists and was about to knock his knuckles against the door when his hand froze. What was he doing? That kiss with Kylie had meant far from nothing and he knew it. He barely even knew the girl and yet he had risked throwing away his entire relationship for one little kiss with her. He knew now what he had to do.
The run to Kylie’s apartment took about ten minutes, but it wasn’t until he got there, winded and perspiring slightly, that he realized he had no idea which room she lived in. The building was seven stories high. He stepped up to room 101 knocked on the door and was greeted by a linebacker sized student, with a closely shaved head wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his enormous arms. Well this certainly isn’t the right apartment.
“Hi I’m looking for a Kylie Myers. Ever heard of her?” he asked. Let the searching begin.
