THE FIRST WEEK of a new semester is always tricky. Your body is still on vacation mode while your brain has already snapped into its usual pattern of determination and anxiety.

It usually takes me a week to fully immerse myself back into being a student, but this time, I'm on top of my game the minute classes start. I have all my books and materials, my syllabus's are downloaded and broken down to create the best study schedule, and confidence is coursing through me like never before.

I've already completed most of the assignments for the week and as I make my way to my shift, I find myself relieved. Nursing courses are hell, of course; college in general is hell, but my relieve comes from the ability actually get a fair shot this time around.

I still feel a big sense of guilt. My part time position at Baker's Dozen, a small café that serves as an alternative for students who don't want to spend seven dollars for a cup of Starbucks, barely covers my expenses, much less allows me to send any money home. Maybe if I keep pushing home aside everything will just work itself out?

My walk is long and the freezing wind seems to have made the commute feel lengthier. When I finally walk into the café, the warm heat is a welcome, though it takes some time for my teeth the stop clattering and my shivering to subside.

"Not looking so hot for a Summer," Josh, my manager says, laughing to himself in a knee slapping, head extending backwards way. He tries to crack at least one joke about my name each shift since I've started. When I introduced myself on my first day, he proceeded look at me with confusion. "Summer?" he said, "well you're a few months early, we haven't even gotten to spring yet."

I don't find him funny, but he's harmless and besides the crappy jokes, a very decent boss as well.

"Hi, Josh." I greet him with a smile.

His grin is warm and his eyes shine with his usual chirpy attitude. "Just on time, as usual. Can I count on you to man the register and clear some tables while I go count the treasure, mate?"

"Aye-aye, captain." I salute him away.

He's also very fond of pirates.

I remove my coat and bag, tying my apron on and clocking in to complete my minimal my pre-work routine. I then take a deep breath, leaning against the counter to absorb the empty room.

I guess everyone preferred Starbucks today?

The tables aren't too bad, there's just a few empty coffee cups and dirty plates scattered here and there. I get rid of them quickly and begin wiping down the tables, when the bell above the door dings as it opens.

I hear them before I see them. The sound of a rowdy group of people laughing and joking around. I'm confused when they start piling in, especially since they aren't the typical quiet hipsters who frequent this place. Some of the guys are recognizable and it all starts to make sense when Cory walks in among them.

I stand back and watch he and his entourage take up half of the tables. He sits at the one right in the middle, of course, soaking up attention they happily give him. His head looks freshly shaved, and the dark mahogany of his skin is as smooth as his confident strut. When he turns to smile at his friends, it's not just a smile of glee, it's one of all knowing confidence, like he has everyone in the palm of his hands and can stir them in any direction at the snap of his fingers.

Another guy runs in, panting as he catches his breath. I realize he was in one of my electives last semester. A douchey frat boy named Brock who spent more time talking about his conquests than contributing to the group project.

"Yo Cory, I was calling you down the block. Didn't you hear me?" Brock asks between gasps of air.

It gets awkwardly quiet, with everyone turning to look at him.

Cory laughs. "Nah man, I'm sorry. What can I help you with?"

"I'm in charge of the party tonight and it's gonna be lit, of course. Just wanted to know if you and your people would swing by."

"Me and my people?" Cory puts offense in his tone.

"Yo," Brock's face turns white, "I didn't even mean it like that for real. My nana marched with Martin Luther King and everything, like, I don't even see color."

"Calm down." Cory interrupts, breaking his façade with a chuckle. "I was just playing. I'll see if I can stop by. Might have some prior engagements I need to attend to though."

Relief washes over Brock's face, "That's cool. Whatever time you can take outta your day. I gotta go now though, I'm running late for calculus," he rushes out the same way he rushed in.

Everyone goes back to their chattering when he leaves. I stand behind the counter, wondering if someone's going to order something, or if they're just here for the free seating.

When it looks like no one will get up to order, I grab my rag to wipe the tables I didn't get to yet.

"Why are we even here?" A redhead who sits on the lap of one of the guys asks.

"Because I like the ambience and I like the view," Cory answers. From the corner of my eye I can tell he's looking at me while saying it, but I don't feel like entertaining him.

"Hiiiiii, Summer," his voice is playful and flirty as he acknowledges me.

I don't give him the attention he wants by turning around to meet his face. "I'm still mad at you," I continue wiping.

before I know it, I feel a pair of arms snake around my waist "Hold on now." He coos into my ear, "I want to know what I did to make my favorite girl mad."

I roll my eyes, "you ditched me on Saturday." I don't reveal the real reason why him ditching me made me mad. I've decided keeping that information from as many people as possible is the best way to try to forget.

Despite my annoyance, a smile inadvertently tugs at my lips when he rocks me back and forth to the generic pop song that plays over the radio.

"I'm sorry, darling." his apologies always have this nonchalance, like he knows you're going to accept them before he says it." But I met a girl with a septum piercing. You know girls with septum piercings are freaky."

"No actually, I don't," I reply flatly.

"Well let me tell you, they're freaky as hell."

"Your disgusting," I wack him away with a laugh.

He seems satisfied enough with my mood change to go back to his table. "Oh, and I was talking to mama Sanders today. If you don't call that poor woman, she's worried sick about you."

"I find it very alarming how close you are to my mom."

"What can I say? MILF's love me." His friends roar with laughter. They don't know that Cory's family and mines have been close for years. He talks to my mom because she's basically become his surrogate aunt, no matter how much I've tried to sever the relationship.

"Hey, if at least half of you don't order something I'm kicking you out," I yell over the loudness, already growing tired of the crowd.

I head towards the counter when a few of them start getting up.

"Who's she?" The bulky guy who sits closest to Cory asks as I pass by.

Is he referring to me?

"She's bad, bro. If only she had an ass," Bulky guy continues.

Ya, he's definitely talking about me.

"Chill, that's the homie. Watch how you speak about her." Cory scolds him while still maintaining his playfulness.

"My bad, I didn't know she was one of your girls." The bulky guy raises his hands in surrender.

I have a sour taste in my mouth after that exchange. Not because the guy rudely commented on the size of my ass, but for a different reason. It leaves me pondering for the rest of my shift, well after they all leave.

I realize it's the title. I'm one of "Cory's girls". It's something I never thought much of before. I mean, technically I am one of his girls. You can say I was the OG girl if you really want to get technically about it. I don't know why it's bothering me now, maybe because of school? Yes, our arrangement, though as fun as it's been, should come to a temporary pause. I don't want Cory becoming too much of a distraction from my studies. I can't risk it.

***

"You will not believe what play we're doing this semester," Aleena rushes into our room, shrieking so loudly that I have to hold my hands against my ears for fear of possible deafness.

"What play are you doing?" If her tone is enthusiastic, then mines is the polar opposite of whatever sound just came out of her mouth. I close my laptop and textbook, knowing I'm not getting anything done until she gets everything out.

"Guess," She rushes to my bed, shaking me as she lays down.

"Aleena..." I don't mean to be a buzz kill, but I was in my zone and she's kind of ruined it. I'm hanging on to my consciousness by a thread after my shift at baker's dozen. I need to get these Pharmacology notes down now, not tomorrow.

"Okay, Okay. You'd just take forever to guess anyways, and I'm too excited to hold it in. We're doing West Side Story."

"Ah," I nod. I see why she's excited, it's one of her favorite plays and the movie is one of her favorite play adaptations.

"You don't understand, it's one of my favorite plays and the movie is one of my favorite play adaptations."

I laugh to myself, "so what role are you going for, Maria?

"That's the thing. You'd think I'd immediately go all in for Maria, since she's the lead, but it's actually super conflicting because there's also Anita, and despite her being a supporting character, she often steals the spotlight completely from Maria. Plus I'd die to get the chance to perform America. Oh, and professor Walsh you know, has some connections in Hollywood. She's inviting some of her friends who are agents and casting directors to opening night. If I can get on their radar it would be huge. You don't understand, My Desi parents have no faith in me pursuing acting. All my stock is riding on this decision." She rambles, speaking a mile a minute and finishes in an almost sob. That's the thing with Aleena, she can be in one mood and talk herself into another in the blink of an eye.

It can give you a bit of whiplash at first, but it's been over three years since we met at freshman orientation, and I'm more than accustomed to it by now.

"Just take some time to think. I know you can make the right decision, "I smooth down the top of her waist-length brown hair to comfort her.

"It's just so scary, we've got one more year left till we graduate. If nothing comes from this, then I'll have to finish my degree and become a stupid accountant," she whales with exaggeration into my shoulder, "and I don't want to be a stupid accountant. I only choose this hellish major to get my parents off my back."

"What do you always say? Go big or go home, so I say go big and choose Maria. She's the lead for goodness sakes. Are you really gonna let some Anita walk in and steal your thunder, or are you gonna go in there with all the passion and talent in the world and leave them asking who the hell Anita is?"

She tips her rounded face up, dark-doe eyes gleaming at me, "You're right, I should go for Maria. Plus I'm pretty sure Ryan Sterling is going for Tony, and he's the best actor by far. With him as my leading man, we'll be able to push each other to give a great performance."

"Exactly," I say, secretly hoping I gave the right advice. The world of theater and acting is far from my expertise. I did enjoy West Side Story those 50 times Aleena forced me to watch since we've been roommates.

She takes a deep breath, "Woo, I'm glad that's settled. Now I can enjoy my date."

"Would that date be with Nelson Clark?" I ask, not hiding my judgement.

"Ya," she cowers with guilt.

I don't know what it is that's gotten her so hooked on Nelson Clark. What he excels in Academia, he severely lacks in social etiquette. If hearing him obnoxiously ramble about his accomplishments wasn't enough, I've had to hear his constant judgement of everyone he crosses, including me.

Last semester, when I was struggling with my classes, I overheard Aleena asking him for possible tutoring sessions. "Really, she needs help with nursing classes? She might as well save her time and switch to liberal arts. She wouldn't last a second in medical school. It's a good thing she at least choose something more feminine," he said. Aleena dumped him briefly after that, but he slowly wormed his way back into her good graces. He always finds a way to.

"I'm giving him one more chance, Summer. I know he's not very pleasant sometimes but when he's kind, he's really kind. They always talk about how hard it is to get over your first love, but that second love is near impossible to shake."

"I get it." Liam, my first and only college boyfriend comes to  mind. I'm so against Aleena's relationship because Liam was a Nelson. The only difference is he reserved most of his judgement for me. I was either getting too skinny or I was getting too big. I was either dressed like a prude or like a whore. He didn't like my curly hair, he didn't like Aleena, and he didn't like me even breathing in the vicinity of someone who possessed male genitalia.

His jealousy was by far his worst vice. It's funny looking back, because despite all his possessive controlling, he ended up being the one who was cheating.

Aleena witnessed it all and actively pushed me to get rid of him, which leaves me even more confused on how she then proceeded to fall for the exact same type of guy.

just something about that six-foot, lanky hunched back that drives her crazy.

"Oh, I almost forget. Let me give you this before I leave," She rushes to her closet, digging for some time. When she pulls back, she's holding a black dress, "this is for you."

"For me?" I remember the dress. She bought it when Nelson insisted she wear something "appropriate" for when he took her to the opera.

"Yes, you have that party you have to go to with that hot basketball player next week. You need to stunt on those bougie people. Show them how the lower class does it." She shakes her hips.

I press my mouth into a hard line. I sort of, completely forgot about that. "I was just going to go to Goodwill or some discount boutique. You don't need to lend me that dress, I know how long it took you to pay off the credit card bill for it."

"You absolutely will not go to Goodwill. Are you out of your mind?" She gasps with offense.
"God didn't make us the same size for no reason."

"If you insist," I say, feeling guilty for accepting it. A T-shirt is one thing, a four hundred dollar dress is another.

She holds the dress up against my neck, surveying how it will look on me. "Let me tell you, when I'm done with you on Saturday, you'll be the Belle of the ball. Carter Reyes will never call you puking beauty again."

I playfully roll my eyes. "Ya, because my life goal is to take Carter's breath away."