by Romi Hart
She pressed her dainty fingers to her temples. “Thanks, but I can go get some myself.”
Is she really that damn scared of being alone with me that she’d stay in pain rather than come to my apartment?
Leaning back once more to give her ample space, I shoved my hands in my pockets and shook my head. “You have to order it from the website. It won’t be any trouble to get you a bottle from my stash. I can even just drop it off at your place. No one should suffer through a hangover.”
Before I found the magical elixir, I suffered one too many horrible mornings from a long night out. I felt I had to help her out.
Finally, she smiled and even nodded slightly. “Okay, that would be great. I appreciate it. Thanks for helping me out.” There was that smile of hers again. Even hungover, her smile was bright and radiant.
Chuckling, I added, “This will be my one humanitarian deed for the year. I was going to build houses for the homeless or help young at-risk kids learn to read, but I would rather help a fellow student get over a hangover instead.”
“Only one humanitarian deed a year. Just one?” She laughed.
Yes! I got her laughing at my jokes again.
I nodded. “Only one.”
We shared a laugh together. It was a nice moment until Troy walked in and sat next to Laney. He looked over his shoulder at me with a spiteful glare. I wanted to slap that look right off his smug face.
“What are you guys laughing about over here?” he asked, intruding into our conversation. Laney spun her head around to face him. Troy immediately burst out into a foul laugh. “Omigod! How much did you have to drink last night!” he chortled loudly, drawing attention to us.
Laney slunk down into her seat and covered her eyes with her hand, looking mortified.
Brick House is a genuine asshole.
I leaned down to look Troy in the face. “Hey, keep it down. You can clearly see she isn’t feeling well.”
Troy put his arms up defensively. “Sorry! Relax!” He paused and saw Laney shrink away from him. She pulled out her notes and busied herself with reading them. He added desperately, “Laney, sorry. I have something in my truck that can help. I can get it for you after class.” Laney continued to look over her notes, refusing to look at him. He added, “Maybe after, we can study together.” Laney opened one of her books; still not answering him. “Or lunch! We could get lunch.”
Laney stopped flipping through the pages to take a moment to look at him. “Troy, thanks for your concern, but I’m going to be taking something that will help very soon.”
“Can’t be as good as my stuff,” Troy persisted.
“It’s DHC from Hovenia Dulcis. It’s a liver remedy used for centuries in Japan, China, and Korea,” Laney answered coolly.
“Okay. I guess it must be good stuff. I was actually just going to give you orange Gatorade,” Troy said quietly.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Gatorade was developed at the University of Florida in 1965 to replenish electrolytes,” she paused, and I sighed at how damn smart she was, even in the midst of a raging hangover. “But in my case, today, I’m going to need something with a little more kick to it than just that. Thank you, though.”
Troy sat back in his seat, looking straight ahead with defeat written all over his face. “Sure. No problem.” He rifled through his backpack and clunked his notebook onto his desk.
Professor Williamson walked into class. “I trust everyone did their reading?” he said as put his briefcase down on the desk.
I leaned back happily. Laney’s response to Troy was perfect. She definitely had no interest in him. What bothered me was Troy’s persistence.
Doesn’t he know when a girl just isn’t into him? Does he know and just not care?
Professor Williamson asked the class, “Can someone please clarify the Prisoner’s Dilemma for the class?”
Laney’s hand shot up.
Wow, that hungover and she’s still prepared for class.
“It’s when individuals or corporations pursue their own self-interest; the outcome is worse than if they both cooperated,” Laney stated smartly.
Professor Williamson pressed further. "Can you give us a real-world example?"
“Sure. Let’s take steroid use as an example.” I noticed Troy’s shoulders droop as Laney began to talk.
Wonder why that is?
The professor tapped his chin as he looked at Laney. “Steroids, huh? Okay, go with that, Miss Dupree.”
So Laney forged ahead, "Let's say that steroids have an approximately equal effect on each athlete. If they all take them, then the performance-enhancing effects cancel out. So really, it is to all of the athletes' advantage to not take them because of the horrible side effects."
“What happens if only one athlete takes them?” Professor Williamson asked.
Laney continued, “If only one athlete takes steroids, then he or she will have an advantage over the others. But that’s only if no one else takes steroids. What would likely happen is that the other athletes would be incentivized to take steroids too to level the playing field, so to speak. Then what happens is: all the athletes suffer and are worse off than when no one took the drugs simply because of the nasty side effects.”
Troy looked uncomfortable and fidgeted while Laney explained her example to Professor Williamson.
Did Laney know about Troy’s steroid rumors and choose that example to get to him? If so, brilliant! If not, what a wonderful coincidence.
“That’s a perfect example, Laney. Thank you,” Professor Williamson said, pleased with her example.
I wanted to laugh at Troy's missteps with Laney, but he needed to learn how to back off and back down. I wasn't confident that Laney was totally into me, but I knew that she definitely had little to no interest in Brick House. If Troy paid attention in our Competitive Strategy class, he would have known to step aside. It was really in everyone's best interest.
Laney
I made it through Professor Williamson’s class trying my best to act like my organs weren’t shutting down one by one. My head pounded while my stomach churned in tumultuous waves of nausea. I was glad I studied before heading out with Marsha the night before.
I felt awful, but I was thankfully prepared for class. I forced myself to participate in the class discussion, which was a twenty-five percent chunk of my grade. I wasn’t about to let a hangover get in the way of my chances for perfect grades.
Jett was kind to offer me one of his bottles of Morning Recovery. It must not have been cheap if it was something you had to specially order online and a Tesla engineer developed it. I felt incredibly sick and couldn’t take a single minute more of the dreadful feeling.
How would I get any worthwhile studying done that night feeling so miserable? I’d be crazy to turn down Hovenia Dulcis.
My mom, the biologist, swore by holistic medicine using natural remedies. At home, we primarily used Japanese Raisin Tree as a light laxative, but there was no way I was going to say that to Jett. My mom had told me that it can be used for other maladies like liver disease. I just never thought people were using it for hangovers. I guess because I’d never been hungover before.
When class was over, Jett and I walked out of the classroom together. I noticed Troy staring at us as we left.
That guy has a serious staring problem.
A researcher at Emory University claimed there are five levels of self-awareness developmental stages. I wondered what happened in Troy’s life to make him lack a firm grip on self-awareness. Not to mention the fact, that he was terribly rude to draw attention to my hangover in class.
I followed Jett out of the courtyard. We waited for the campus shuttle to go by before we crossed Piedmont Avenue towards Memorial Stadium. From the outside, the stadium was a beautiful neoclassical structure with large pedimented arches.
It was in stark contrast to University of Florida’s Griffin Stadium, a monstrous contemporary building complex. I had never been inside any stadium
before, but I was surprised to find myself looking forward to sitting in Memorial Stadium this weekend for the UCLA game.
“Are we going to your car?” I asked as we approached the stadium. There wasn’t a student parking lot that I could see nearby.
Jett confessed, “I park over here. I have a special F parking permit.”
I was surprised by the parking permit. “Isn’t that just for faculty?”
“It is, but I’m on the football team and the quarterback, so the school let me have one.” Jett jingled his keys out of his backpack. A brand new black Mercedes Benz beeped to life.
I was in shock. “This is your car?”
“Do you like it?” he asked. “I got as a gift. I was worried that it looked too flashy, you know?”
I stopped to admire the car. “It’s a beautiful ride,” I remarked. It really was: nice smooth edges and lines. Curious, I asked, “A gift? From who?”
Jett shrugged. “A Cal Alumni gifted it to me for winning the bowl game last season.”
If I would have known sports could afford me different perks in college, maybe I would’ve have picked up golf or something. I doubted golf players got the kind of extra advantages football players did though.
As I walked around the car admiring its sleek curves, I saw Troy running across Piedmont screaming, “Hey! Hey! Laney! Wait up!” Troy ran up to us looking irritated. “What are you guys doing?”
It was an awkward moment.
Why does Troy think he needs to know what we’re doing?
As soon as I think he has reached the pinnacle of boorishness, Brick House surprises me and goes beyond that.
My mom always told me to never be rude to someone even if they have been rude to you. It’s from her upbringing in Southern hospitality. It only enforces their impolite behavior. I took a deep breath and replied, “I’m going to Jett’s to grab the drink made with Japanese Raisin Tree. You know, the DHC from Hovenia Dulcis?” Troy looked at me with a completely blank face, so I added, “The hangover remedy I was telling you about earlier?”
“Hangover remedy? Laney, I told you that I had something for you in my truck.” His voice had a hard edge to it. An edge I did not appreciate one tiny bit.
Crossing my arms while tapping my foot, I sternly said, “I know, but I told you that I was going to get DHC...”
Troy cut me off. “From this guy? I didn’t know he was the one who was giving you that stuff.” He pointed his finger in a sharp jabbing motion at Jett. I watched as Troy twirled around with his arms raised in indignation. “I can’t believe this!”
Jett interjected, “Hey! Brick House calm down.”
Troy shot him a furious look. “Shut up! Stay out of this.”
I could see Troy was upset and tried to calm things down before the two jocks got out of hand. “Troy, I’m not sure what you’re so upset about.”
He laughed derisively. “I’m upset because I think you’re crazy to go over to Romeo’s apartment.” He jabbed a finger again in Jett’s direction and said, “He’s only after one thing. He’s going to get you there and sleep with you. That’s all he wants. He’ll never talk to you again after he gets what he wants from you. Can’t you see that?” Troy was screaming down at me. I backed away from him, shielding myself from his fury.
Jett stepped in between us and pushed Troy back. “Step off, Brick House. Stop yelling at her.”
Troy’s body flew back into a nearby Volvo, most likely a professor’s car, setting off the alarms. Troy recovered and charged full force into Jett. Their bodies crunched into Jett’s car door that only moments before I was admiring for its smooth shape.
I’d had enough of both of them. “Stop it! Stop it!”
By that time, a group of students had gathered to watch Jett and Troy fight each other. I looked at the crowd, feeling embarrassed at being a spectacle. I took off in a run towards Clark Kerr.
“Laney!” I heard Jett call after me, but I kept running.
My adrenaline and humiliation must have overridden my nausea. I ran all the way back to my dorm room. Marsha was thankfully not there. I wanted to have time to think about what happened on my own. I already knew what she would say.
I threw my shoes and socks off quickly. I was on the verge of tears, but I wasn’t going to give into them. I stood in Tadasana focusing on the sensation of my feet firmly planted on the floor. I put my hands in Anjali Mudra right in the center of my chest. My hands were close enough to my body that I felt the rapid beat of my heart.
Lifting my hands up over my head, I focused on inhaling. On exhale, I brought my arms back down and my hands back together in Anjali Mudra. I kept my eyes closed and repeated this simple movement until my heartbeat relaxed and the tears receded.
I had never been in a situation like this. Clearly, both Jett and Troy were bad news for me. I came to Berkeley for one reason, my education. My mother raised me to be a strong independent woman. It was a waste of my time for me to get caught up with those guys.
Fighting? It was absurdly barbaric.
I opened our mini-fridge to get something to drink. That fuzzy dehydration feeling still hovered over me. Ironically, I grabbed a Gatorade because that just happened to be all we had in the fridge aside from beer, which I had no interest in drinking for a long time. I guzzled down the cool orange elixir hoping the boost in electrolytes would be enough to sustain me through my next class.
After an hour of relaxing in my bed, I walked back to campus through the Haas courtyard not expecting the multitude of Haas business organizations to be lined up with tables, eager and ready to recruit new members. I fumbled in my backpack for my fake Raybans. I wasn’t in the best mood to talk with people.
I had no idea that Jett was in the Haas Sports Business Club. Before I could turn around, I passed by him and his football buddies behind a table tossing around a football. I tucked my head down and ducked behind a tall girl hoping he wouldn’t see me.
I sighed with relief when I made it to the Future Business Leaders of America table. I escaped without Jett seeing me. A pretty Pakistani girl with long full eyelashes greeted me, talking quickly, “Hi! Are you interested in community service, consulting, finance, history, publications, and networking? FBLA can also help with professional development and networking.”
“I am interested in community service and networking,” I answered. If I joined a club, it would be awesome to be part of one that was business oriented but also committed to community service.
I took the pamphlet she held out to me and noticed her wide, genuine smile. “We’re having a new member meeting on Friday. You should come.”
“Thanks,” I said as I walked away. She seemed nice. I thought I might check it out.
“Laney,” I looked up from the pamphlet. It was Jett. I brushed past him. “Laney, wait. Let me explain,” he said with urgency.
He ran in front of me, blocking my way. I crossed my arms. “Just leave me alone, Jett.”
He shook his head, making that blonde hair of his bounce around his broad shoulders. “Laney, Brick House doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not trying to hit it and quit it with you. I wouldn’t do that.”
“You wouldn’t do that, huh?” I couldn’t let him get away with lying to me. “Troy isn’t the only person to tell me about your reputation. You’re always with a new girl. It isn’t a secret.”
Jett looked like I had hit him in the gut full force. “Damn, Laney.”
See, words can be just as powerful as fists.
“Jett, I like you and genuinely hope all your dreams of becoming a huge football star come true, but I’m going to be busy with my own life.” It was hard as hell to look into his sweet, handsome face and tell him things I could see where hurting him. “Too busy to keep up with you and your partying and all your girls.” I stepped around him. “Please excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I hope you have a great life, Jett. I really do.”
I walked by him without looking at him directly. From my periph
eral vision, I could see his stunned face. His mouth hung open, speechless.
It was too bad. Jett seemed like a nice guy. Gorgeous too, but looks could be viciously deceiving.
Jett
I watched Laney walk away from me. Her blonde ponytail swished from side to side as she rushed inside the building. The sun shone into her hair illuminating it. Her hair looked like spun gold. My chest actually ached to watch her go. That sensation was new for me.
No girl had ever told me off before like that. It was sexy. I was intrigued more than ever now. She had her priorities in order. I respected her for speaking her mind even if I suffered the brunt of her scorn. A girl like Laney was serious, mature, and committed to her future and academics. She was different from the football groupie girls that were always hanging around the team and me. Those girls were a dime a dozen, but Laney? She was unique. Special.
In reality, who did I want to be with long-term? A party girl? Or a genuine brilliant girl like Laney?
I understood that to get her I needed to clean up my act. She wasn’t going to hang out with just any guy, even if I was the star quarterback. From right then and there, I pledged to change for the better for her and for me, for that matter.
It was true. What kind of functional alcoholic orders Morning Recovery by the case on a weekly basis?
Laney would change me. She’d make me a better man.
Ox, Dylan, Carl, Hammer, and Hatchet crowded around me, laughing hysterically. Ox hooked his arm around my neck and rubbed his fist into the top of my head. “Yo. From where we were watching, we think that went really well.”
I pushed Ox off me while the guys erupted into hooping laughter again and Hammer had to add his little jab, “Gun, she is definitely into you.”
“If being into you means never talking to you ever again,” Hatchet chimed in.
I let the guys rib me, but I was determined to change Laney’s mind about me. “Guys, this is just a minor block.”
Carl gave me a slight punch in the arm as he winked at me. “Minor? She basically told you to have a nice life, which where I come from means: See ya, loser.”
