She plopped down on a bench, and set her books beside her. She sipped her coffee, checked her phone, and looked up when she saw a shadow at her side. 

"Oh, hey... Alyssa?"

"Yeah... Sam?"

"Mm-hmm. From Jasmine's -"

"Jasmine's party."

"Yeah."

"Um, do you want to sit down?"

"Okay."

He sat beside her, but not too close, and held his books on his lap. That part of the campus was shaded by beech trees, and hundreds of people traversed its brick paths, carrying books and coffee and phones. 

"So did you, um, did you grow up here?"

Alyssa nodded. "Close to here, anyway. Edgewood."

"Well, I'm from Oregon. Portland, to be specific."

"So you traveled across the country to attend our fine institution?"

"Mm-hmm."

Alyssa sipped her coffee. "What's your major?"

"Journalism," he said. "I like nonfiction. Like, current events."

"Oh," she said. "Mine's creative writing. I guess I like to keep my head in the clouds, where it belongs."

Sam laughed. "Well, I guess writing fiction is just making stuff up."

"Mm-hmm," she said. "Turning 'making stuff up' into an art form."

As they talked, Alyssa sensed his warmth, and decided that he was kind of okay-looking. Since she was kind of okay-looking herself, maybe something could happen.... And he wouldn't have sat down if he didn't think so too.

"Well," she said, and checked her phone. "Guess I have class... but do you want to talk later?"

"Yeah." He got to his feet and heaved up his books. After they'd exchanged numbers, Alyssa started across the grass, and concluded that she had to tell Jasmine about this.