Scott and I were best friends growing up. We did everything together and had those sort of "friendly rivalries" that often happen between young boys. He was a little better at soccer, me at basketball. Science and math were more my thing where he received a scholarship based on his music skills and, eventually, became a published author (much later). I was pretty popular in school but Scott was well liked, if slightly more introverted. When I graduated Valedictorian and Scott finished third, he was happy for me partly because he really didn't want to give a graduation speech.
Our families, however, could not be more different. Scott's was fantastic. He had two little sisters who adored him and parents who showered him with love, affection and respect. His littlest sister had a rare nerve condition that made her go deaf at the age of eight. We all learned sign language so that she never felt left out. His family was awesome. Mine, on the other hand, were... well... they're not super important to this story but suffice it to say that they were the opposite of that. Not quite "monsters" or anything. Nothing that horrid. But just generally unhappy, miserable, loveless people.
I spent as much time at Scott's house as I could growing up. Partly because his family was wonderful. Partly because I didn't want to be at home. Scott's mom was even my first crush though I quickly discovered that unmarried girl's my own age were much more accessible if you know what I mean. Scott and I dated a couple of the same girls but we agreed to never let girls come between us. In fact, Scott even set me up with one of his exes whom he'd broken up with. He was a good friend.
We drifted apart for a little while after high school but both found ourselves at UVA for post-graduate degrees. This was in a day and age before internet so you can imagine our surprise when, during orientation, we found ourselves sitting across the welcome center from each other.
"Brian?" he said as he approached me after the first session.
"Scott? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Same as you, man. Going to law school. What a small world!"
"Yeah... Holy shit. Small world indeed! This is awesome. It's nice to have a friendly face." We gave each other a quick high five before looking at each other. Both of us had kept in good shape. I'd played D2 basketball and he'd managed to walk on the soccer team at Washington State where he'd gone to undergrad. I looked around and leaned in, "I hadn't expected the girls to be so hot here."
Scott smiled tightly, "I'm not supposed to look. I've got a girlfriend...," he paused for a moment and then whispered, "but yeah... damn right!" We laughed and made plans to meet the next night for drinks.
Charlottesville is a college town. No doubt about it. There's plenty to do and the city caters to the college kids pretty overtly. It wasn't hard to get a recommendation for a good bar and we met up around 9 at The Livery Stable. It was a nice little bar. Relatively quiet and low key. Perfect for two old friends to get reacquainted.
"So what have you been up to?" I asked.
"Graduated from Stanford. Double majored in Music and Literature. Trying to decide if I want to write for a living or become an IP lawyer. You?"
"Geezus. I don't have it together at all compared to you," I said with a laugh. I took a sip of my drink, careful to not consume too much. I'd learned my lesson about getting black out drunk in college. The frat pictures proved that. "Majored in Business and Finance. Coming to law school because it seemed like the logical next step, I guess. I'm not really sure."
"You'll figure it out. You've got three years to find out what you like," he said reassuringly.
"I guess... I don't know. You have things planned out pretty well AND you've got a girlfriend... she cute?" I asked with a laugh.
Scott snickered, "Oh yeah... way hotter than I deserve, man."
"Got a picture?" I asked. He pulled out his wallet and pulled out two photos. He slid one out and flipped it around to show me. The girl was, indeed, quite cute. Pretty blonde, blue eyes, short. She looked like she was fun. "Yup... definitely too hot for you!"
Scott laughed again in response, "What about you? No girl?"
I shrugged, "I had some luck in undergrad but it's been a bit of a dry spell. I knew I was coming here and didn't want to start something back up."
Scott, who'd already thrown back one beer, took another long pull of his second and held the empty glass up, "Well we need to get you a girl. No need for something serious, right?"
I shrugged, "I guess so. One night stands aren't really my thing."
Our waitress walked up just then and the sentiment died in my throat. A one night stand with her might not be so bad. She was a curvy little brunette with a great smile. Wide hips, narrow waist and an ample, but not giant, bosom made sure she ticked all my buttons. She was wearing a tight cutoff t-shirt and short jean shorts. Standard bar waitress attire in my experience. She grabbed Scott's glass and set down another before walking away. And it was a nice walk away. Her perky little ass shook and I couldn't stop eyeing it.
"Reconsidering that comment about one night stands?" Scott asked with a grin.
"Uhh... maybe a little," I said.
"Let's make it happen, man?"
I demured. All I needed was to have some sort of drunken harassment bar incident before I even started classes, "I'm good... it's fine."
"You think I'm too drunk to get her for you? I'm the world's best fucking wingman!" he declared to the bar in general. A couple people looked at us and he took another swig of his beer. Two and a half beers in less than 30 minutes seemed excessive. But Scott rallied hard. He sat up straight and fixed his leather jacket, straightening his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. Then he said, without slurring a single syllable, "I'm getting you that girl."
He stood up and took one staggered step before pausing and righting himself. Then he proceeded to walk over to the waitress. I didn't hear what he said but they both returned after 30 seconds and she looked me up and down appraisingly. I felt momentarily like a piece of meat. She put her hand on her hip and said, "Okay... Your buddy dragged me over here to hear this 'war story'... so let's hear it?"
"I'm sorry... what?"
"Don't be shy, man. Tell her about how we met!"
I looked at Scott. We'd met on the playground in elementary school when I put mud in Scott's hair and he punched me. Our dad's had to come to the office to pick us up. Scott's dad lectured him. My dad smacked me. It wasn't a day I particularly liked to talk about.
