Every profile picture is an attempt to convey a message. I’m sexy. I’m confident. I’m harmless. In a space where there’s so little opportunity to communicate, it’d be foolish not to use the avatar to say something about yourself, but the whole thing just feels so damn contrived.
Maybe that’s why the sight of the Jessica Rabbit avatar has me grinning. The cartoon image from the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit is a hypersexualized redhead in a tight red sequin dress that shows lots of cleavage and even more thigh. If a woman had posted an actual picture of herself dressed like this, I’d roll my eyes and keep scrolling, but the fact that this girl chose to use a cartoon instead of a picture of herself intrigues me. I tap through to her profile.
ItsyBitsy123. 27-year-old female. Wanderer.
I’m living my best life, and that means having fun. No cheaters, creepers, or trolls, please. I’ve had my share. Bonus points if you enjoy reading anything more advanced than your morning cereal box.
That makes me laugh. She’s the most interesting person I’ve seen on here yet. So I swipe. And I wait.Chapter SixStellaThe banner hanging above the entrance of the Orchid Valley branch of Mountain Laurel Community College says, Welcome, students! And I can’t help but think I wasn’t the kind of person they were imagining when they hung that sign. The admissions office assured me that community colleges are full of nontraditional students of all ages, but every time I imagine a full classroom, I picture a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, fresh out of high school . . . kind of like the gaggle of laughing girls vaping together a few cars away.
This summer is all about general education for me. I already have a bachelor’s degree, but I need to take chemistry and anatomy and physiology before I can apply for the nursing program. Since there are always more applicants than spots, I also need to do well in those courses—a prospect that was terrifying enough before I realized I don’t know where I’ll be living this summer or how I’ll be paying the rent.
“Are you going in?”
I turn toward the voice and smile at the tall guy who’s asking. He’s in jeans and a polo shirt and has a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Most importantly, he looks closer to my age than the posse of girls giggling a few yards away.
I adjust my own bag and step toward him. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He beams at me, showing off his straight white teeth. Not bad at all. “First day?”
“Yes. And I’m totally nervous.”
His gaze flicks over me in that way guys do when they’re checking you out but trying to be quick about it so they don’t come off looking slimy. I’m going to work a shift at The Orchid right after class, so I’m dressed professionally in a black pencil skirt and a flowy yellow tank. There’s definite interest in his eyes when he brings his gaze back up to meet mine. “What department?”
“Oh . . . science, I guess.” I take a deep breath. It’s too easy to assume I’m going to suck at my science classes just because I struggled with them in high school, but I’m trying so hard not to let negative thinking drag me down. I’m older, more mature, and my study skills are way better than they were back then.
Beaming, he offers a hand. “Same here. You’re a part-timer too, I assume?”
I shake my head. “Just for the summer. Full-time starting in the fall,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. Need to ace a couple of classes first.
His eyes go wide. “Really? That’s great. Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”
What? “A word with who?”
He chuckles. “I know, right? I can’t figure out who makes these decisions, and I ended up piecing together a full-time schedule from three different schools, but good for you. That’s great.”
I’m confused but too nervous to worry about it. “Hopefully it will be.”
He offers a hand, and it’s warm and a little rough against mine. “I’m Anderson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Stella.”
“Listen, I have to meet up with someone and then I have class, but I’d like to buy you a coffee or something later.”
I bite back a grin. Here I was worried I wouldn’t have classes with anyone my age, and I’ve already made a friend before setting foot in the classroom. “Yes. That’d be amazing. I have a break at noon.”
“It’s a date. Meet me in the Starbucks in the Commons?”
A date. With a cute fellow student. Eat your heart out, Kace Matthews. “Perfect.”
“I look forward to it,” Anderson says. He heads toward the building, tossing me one final wink over his shoulder before he pushes through the doors.
A few deep breaths later, I muster the courage to walk in after him and find my classroom. Unfortunately, as I expected, the majority of the students around me look like they’re fresh out of high school. There’s an older man I recognize from The Orchid, and I wave to him as I enter.