Dream Boy

College parties aren’t really my thing. Yet, here I am standing in someone’s backyard in the

middle of downtown Brooklyn, trying my hardest to fit in. On the other hand, my roommate is

having no trouble whatsoever. She’s blending right in with that can of beer in her hand. I, of

course, hate beer. And yet, I’m holding a can myself, pretending to sip it once in a while even

though I can’t even stand the smell of it. The can was the courtesy of Yussuf, an athlete—I’m not

sure what team he plays for—who was kind enough to grab me and my friends some drinks. The

party wasn’t overly crowded, from what I could see. Two beer pong tables were set up in the

backyard of this house and mostly everyone was playing the game. Christmas lights were

hanging like wires above our heads, and street signs, that were probably stolen, decorated the

wooden wall/fence all around. The music is loud, but not deafening. The aux cord DJ in the front

is playing the latest hits and I catch myself moving side to side, this is my song.

My friends and I are standing towards the back, near a random couch that seems out of place,

and I somehow I seem to relate to this piece of furniture the most. After freshman year passed, I

was so sure that I will live through all four of my academic years without attending an actual

college party. Looking around now, I think I have accomplished something that I never even set

out to achieve to begin with. Nonetheless, it makes me feel strong—I’m expanding my comfort

zone, even if my anxiety meter is as high as ever.

My friend Jonathan, who is the reason we were able to find this house, is back from greeting his

fellow teammates and is now standing with us. I talk to him for a while, as more people he

knows, or those who know him, stop by to say hello. Everyone is nodding and smiling at us,
acknowledging the fact that they have never seen me and my friends before, but they are pleased

to have us here. Or they are just drunk and everyone is too nice when they are drunk. At this

point, my friends are being typical girls on a night out and pulling out their phones to take

pictures. They are on snapchat recording videos, because obviously we have to let people know

we too attend parties, we can be social, and we can have fun. I shake my head at the thought and

throw a peace sign as my friend takes a selfie of us. Jonathan is telling us that if we want more

drinks, there is stuff in the front but I shake my head in a no and glance at my friend who is

drinking the beer I was holding in my hand for the past 15 minutes. I want to laugh because I’m

so not made for this but at least the music is good.

My friends and I are laughing now, Yussuf is back and keeping us entertained and I’m not sure

where Jonathan went. But in a sudden moment of realization of my surroundings, I turn my head

to the side and see him. There is Jonathan, talking to another guy who has his back turned to me

and his one hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. I try to get a glimpse of his face because something

tells me I know this person, but he’s so into his conversation with Jonathan that he is not moving

an inch. I turn back to my friends but position myself in way so that I’m facing Jonathan and the

other guy. And then, he turns around and I gasp inwardly. It’s him. The sole reason why I even

agreed to come to this party. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m openly staring at him. He isn’t

looking though, but he is about a feet away from me. A part of me is so nervous that I want to

dart across the room and get as far away from him as I can. I have had crushes on boys since I

was in first grade. I was practically in love with this kid named Connor O’Brien is sixth grade

because he helped with my locker once, and moved onto Frank Confortti in eighth who used to

sit next to me in Spanish class. I maybe spoke to those two guys twice in my life. But this—it is
different. This is college, and I’m no longer the shy little girl who only nods and smiles when you

talk to her. And I’m here, so is he, and maybe we will finally talk and my wildest dreams will

come true. Who am I kidding? I’m probably going to find him making out with some other girl

and have my heart broken before I leave here tonight.

I shake out of my reverie as my roommate nudges me. I look at her and she points with her eyes

towards Lucas, my famous, long-time crush. She’s smirking at me and I nod my head trying not

to smile. “Nothing is going to happen, he doesn’t even know me,” I say to her and she shakes her

head in disagreement. “He will after tonight,” she replies and I roll my eyes. Like that’s ever

going to happen. I have never pursued any guy that I ever liked in my life and that is not going to

change tonight. I look down at my phone, texting back one of my best friends who is checking

up on me and my first college party experience. The next time I look up, Lucas is standing in

front of me with Jonathan. He is wearing a hat so it’s hard to see his eyes properly but I know he

is staring at me and I have no clue what is going on. I immediately regret being on my phone, but

after listening to my friends talk I realize they are introducing themselves. Lucas is shaking their

hands one by one and I’m mentally preparing myself for this moment. Play it cool.

He turns to me with his hand out and I’m ready to tell him my name when he cuts me off,

“Mia, right?” he asks and I’m so caught off guard that my next words probably sounded

offensive.

“How do you know?”

He blinks at me and then I see a trace of a smile appear on his face.

he says and I’m dumbfounded and speechless at this information. He knows my name, he

remembers that I was in his class, he knows my name.

I laugh genuinely, because he is right. That class was a nightmare and a half but only slightly

tolerable because I got to see him twice a week for two hours.

“You’re right, she definitely was the worst,” I say and he nods in agreement.

“I’m Lucas, by the way,” he finally offers me a handshake and I smile as I shake his hand.

“I know, you’re quite the star.” He laughs and shakes his head, denying it with a humble, “Not at

all,” but a fact is a fact.

We stand there for longer than I ever imagined, talking like we have known each other for years.

But it doesn’t feel strange, and it doesn’t feel forced. I feel a sudden surge of confidence within

myself, and I think I might just be flirting with him. After a while when I run out of things to say,

I find him staring at me. I bite back a nervous smile, “Do you wanna dance with me?” I ask and

my eyes wander away from his as I walk to where there is more room. I feel his hand grab onto

mine as he follows me, and then we stand facing each other and I’m already dancing away the

butterflies in my stomach.

He is mostly staring at me and I can’t help but laugh as I hide my face. He grins widely and

removes my hands out of my face, in the process coming closer to me than before. Then to my

surprise, he wraps his arms around me in an embrace and I try not to squeal. We sway side to

side for a few minutes and then he pulls away slightly to yell in my ear, “Is this J. Cole?”
I laugh out loud because the song that is playing is far from a rap song; obviously he doesn’t

know much about music. I tell him no, and that it is a song by the singer, The Weeknd, but he

waves it off and plants a kiss on my cheek. First the hug and now a kiss, I’m taking mental notes

on how this is surreal and how he is probably just drunk like very other guy at this party and will

forget about me and all of this by tomorrow. I smile back at him, regardless.

When I’m not looking at Lucas, I catch a glimpse of my friends on the side, watching us with

smirks on their faces that scream ‘We told you so…’ and I can’t help but laugh and mouth a “Shut

up” to them.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He stops mid-dance to ask. Nothing at all, I’m free tomorrow.

I’m free like every day if you want me to be.

“Uh—nothing really, why?” I say instead, because clearly my thoughts are desperate.

“I wanted to go to this thing in Times Square. It’s some cultural festival…would you go?”

I’m screaming yes in my head so loud that I’m afraid I’m going to scream it to him as well.

“Sure, what time?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll text you and let you know,” he tells me and I’m about to agree when I

remember that he doesn’t have my number nor do I have his. We end up exchanging them before

he grabs my hand and starts walking inside the house. I ask him where we’re going and he tells

me it’s a secret. Most people would probably at this point get suspicious, but I’m too in the

moment and for some odd reason, trust him too much.

We end on the roof of the house. While the party below is loud and maddening, up here it is calm

and the soothing September breezes are blowing at the right pace. We walk towards the edge of

the roof and peer down at the on going party and Lucas laughs when he sees his friends joking
around. Nobody knows we are up here. We walk back and sit down next to each other. It’s

getting chilly but to my own surprise, I’m not cold. He starts to talk again as we stare out at the

city—he is telling me his life story. By the end of our conversation, he has told me a lot of

things, some of which he probably didn’t mean to tell me. At one point, when he is talking about

his mom and dad, he moves in closer towards me and I hold my breath, waiting for him to lean in

and close the gap completely. But it doesn’t happen and I’m not disappointed.

His best friend Harry finds out that we are on the roof and texts him to come back down,

apparently it is not safe. He laughs it off by calling his friend a dad before we head back

downstairs. He is holding my hand as we walk down the stairs, an act of chivalry that I thought

had died years ago. In that moment, I become aware of my fear. The fear of this—whatever this

is—lasting for just one night. My fear ran deep, and for my own sanity, I stop walking and leave

his hand. He turns around immediately, asking me if anything was wrong.

I sigh deeply, “Are you going to remember this tomorrow?” I’m looking at him now, “Or is this

just another drunk night at a party with some girl for you?”

He walks closer all while shaking his head from side to side, “Of course. I’m not drunk, I’m just a

little tipsy,” he assures me and I give no reaction. He smiles then removes a strand of hair away

from my face. I’m still staring at him, and i realize this is the longest I’ve looked into his eyes

throughout the night. We are standing in a compact hallway that is nearly empty, with a few

people coming in and out. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer before his lips touch mine. I

have probably dreamed about this moment before. I have definitely dreamed about this moment

before. We pull away when we hear Harry calling his name from inside the house. I look down,
my face heating up but he just grabs my hand again, kisses the back of it, and pulls me down the

stairs towards the house.

The rest of the night is nothing short of a fairytale. Lucas doesn’t leave my side for more than a

minute, and when we do get separated for a while, he texts my phone to ask me where I am. One

of my friends is completely drunk by the end of the night and I call her boyfriend to come and

take care of her, because I couldn’t handle her alone. My roommate leaves the party when her

phone shatters and I plan on leaving with her, but Lucas is adamant enough to not let me go. I

laugh to myself because he is acting like a possessive boyfriend and we haven’t even went on a

date yet. But an optimistic feeling grows inside of me and I start to think that maybe this is

possible. That maybe he is not like those other guys—he is everything I imagined and more.

Who knew I was so terribly mistaken? A month after the party, Lucas stops talking to me. We

hang out once after that night, but talk on a daily basis for a month until one day he stops

contacting me. I’m confused, hurt, upset, livid and every other emotion possible. I see him in

school and he acts like nothing ever happened and that pushes me to the edge. How can he act

like everything is fine? I wake up every day wondering what went wrong or if I said something

that made him want to stop talking to him or if he ever even liked me to begin with? But I

receive no answers. My friends believe he has moved onto someone else and no matter how

reluctant I am in believing that, it doesn’t change the reality. I no longer look at him the same. I

avoid bumping into him anywhere I go and I when I do see him, instead of the bright smile and

twinkle in my eyes, he receives a blank stare and a nod and we walk past each other like two

strangers in the street. Maybe it was another girl, or maybe he was just never that into me. But
that night still remains in my memories, that very special night when I felt things I never felt

before. When I thought anything was possible. When he made me believe that he was the boy of

my dreams.