The grass tickled the backs of my knees and a gentle breeze danced playfully through the summer air at the first day of summer session at a New England bording school. I ssat in a circle with four other kids I had met under thirty minutes ago and nibbled self-consciously at my hamburger. We were all secretly trying to read each other's faces to gauge if the others were as nervous as we were, or at least that's what I was doing.
To my left was my roomate Emma. She was cool, confident, beautiful, and seemed completely comfortable and at ease; all the things I wished I could be. And she had no problem starting conversation with the three guys she surrounded herself with; max from Miami, Antonio from Rome, and Emre from Turkey. Max projected this bad-boy sort of image, with his "too cool to care" attitude and exciting stories of life in Miami and near-death experiences while surfing off the coast. But even then, sitting there on the first day, I could tell that there was something more beyond the rough facade. In his dark eyes, which seemed to go on forever, I could tell that he secretly harbored sincerity and sensitivity.
Next, was Antonio from Rome. He was a man of a whole different breed, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He had the type of body belonging only to the walls of Abercrombie and Fitch. Unfortunately, that's all there was to him. There wasn't a whole lot going on upstairs, if you catch my drift. Perhaps it was the language barrier but it seemed impossible for him to hold an intelligible conversation; he usually gave up on understanding what you were trying to say and resorted back to his choice four words, "YOU ARE A STUPID!".
Finally, there was Emre. Emre wasn't complicated like Max, or gorgeous like Antonio; we was just Emre. Being from Turkey, he had an adorable broken accent, which we got to hear A LOT. Emre loved to talk. And even from day one it was apparent that he also loved Jade, as all of the guys eventually would.
And then, and THEN, there was The Boy in the Red Polo, otherwise known as the ultimate dream. From our circle on the lawn Emma and I spotted him and exchanged knowing glances. We weren't sure what his name was, where he came from, or how we would even get to talk to him, be we knew that somehow, someway, he would be ours. The Boy in the Red Polo was gorgeous. He was perfect. He was mysterious. There was not a single flaw on his beautiful, tan body.
At that moment in time on the first day of summer session I had no way of knowing that over the next two weeks, Max, Antonia, Emre, and yes, even the Boy in the Red Polo would become some of Emma's and my closest friends. And what a two weeks it would turn out to be!