by Minot, Diana
“Seriously, Whitney? Miller Lite?” Jamie said. “Do you hate your taste buds or something?”
Whitney just shrugged. “I like Miller Lite,” she lied. “Besides, it’s less calories over the course of the night.”
Jamie rolled her eyes, but Elise nodded her head. “She has a point,” Elise said, then shrugged and changed the subject. “Lincoln was just telling us about his internship in South Africa. Can you believe he never even went on a safari while he was in Africa?”
“It’s probably as hard to believe as the fact that I don’t know any cowboys.”
“Hey, I was there to work, Elise, not frolic around with the local wildlife,” Lincoln said, and then started describing the process of determining whether an orphan had any living relatives.
Whitney was scanning the room for Ben, and only heard about half of what Lincoln was saying. From Lincoln’s stories, at least, it sounded like he had worked hard while interning. Whitney had to admit that she automatically judged anyone who took an internship set up by a parent. It seemed too easy, too calculated. Maybe she was just jealous that she never had anyone set up an internship for her. Everything about her undergraduate education and first job had been haphazard. Her parents thought she should just go to the local community college because it was cheap, and her high school guidance counselor did little more than inundate her with piles of colorful brochures. With no college graduates in her family, she had no one to go to for advice, but she managed to decide on and secure a spot at UT. She was sure now, however, that she had missed out on a lot of scholarships simply because she did not know enough to apply for them. Finding her first job had been equally disorganized. She threw together a cover letter and résumé and applied to more jobs than she could count. But the combination of not really knowing what she wanted to do and an amateurish résumé left her with no options except the call center gig. She could not be too upset about where she had ended up, but she still felt a pang of jealousy with each new story she heard today about another amazing job or internship.
Whitney set down her empty glass and signaled the bartender for another. Lincoln was now in the middle of a story about spending the night in Heathrow after he accidentally missed his connecting flight home from Africa. Whitney had never been to London, but she knew Heathrow was located there thanks to celebrity gossip magazines. There was always a picture of some famous person walking through Heathrow or LAX, looking glamorous despite the fact that they were wearing sweats and had just deplaned from a twelve hour flight. As Whitney dutifully laughed at Lincoln’s story, she felt a sudden poke in her ribs.
“Who are you looking for?” Jamie demanded.
“Huh? What? No one. Why?” Whitney tried to look confused, but Jamie was not buying it.
“He’s over there.” She gestured toward a large booth in a front corner of the bar, where Ben was sitting and talking to two skinny blondes. Whitney felt her heart sink a bit.
“I met those girls earlier,” Jamie said. “Kate and Crystal. Crystal is nice enough. She’s young, only a year out of undergrad. She didn’t even work in that year, just traveled through Asia and Europe. Kate seems like a first-class bitch. Just stared at me the whole time Crystal and I were talking like she might literally die from the boredom of having to listen to me. I hate bitches like that.”
Whitney said nothing, just watched Ben laughing at something Kate said. Or was it Crystal? Whitney was not sure which one was which. Whitney glanced at her watch. 8:55. This day had been overwhelming, and she wanted to go home. It was too early to leave without raising a volley of protests and questions, though. She guzzled her second Miller Lite and ordered another one, ignoring the little voice telling her to slow down.
Chapter Four
Four hours later, Whitney lost count of how many beers she had consumed. She only knew that after beer number three, she had been diligent about alternating each beer with a full glass of water. She winced when she thought about the bill. She was not sure where Elise had gone, and Jamie was several barstools down now, still talking to Lincoln. Whitney refused to look in Ben’s direction anymore—no use in pining over a crush she had had for a grand total of eight hours—and she was now chatting with an adorable guy wearing jeans and a t-shirt from some random band. Brown eyes and curly brown hair. Not quite blue eyes and brown hair like Ben, but close, and good-looking nonetheless. She had been warned law school was full of ugly men, but so far she was pretty happy with the eye candy here. His name was Alex. What was his last name again? Duff? Yes, that was right. Alex Duff. He was originally from Houston, but his parents had moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico when he was seven years old. He was talking to Whitney about the foodie scene in New Mexico, and his description of the green chili cheeseburger at his favorite restaurant made Whitney’s mouth water. She had eaten dinner at home before she came to the bar, but that was several hours and beers ago. She was starving, but it was after 1 a.m. The kitchen was surely closed.
Whitney finished the last sip of her current beer and eyed an array of chips and nuts displayed behind the bar. Alex took a big swig to finish off his beer as well.
“Another Miller Lite?” he asked.
“Just water.”
“Oh, come on. Really?”
“Really. I have a strict alternating rule. One drink, one water. Keeps me out of trouble. Mostly. I will take a bag of those pretzels, though, if you’re offering.”
“Alright.” Alex flagged down the bartender and gestured to his glass. “I’ll take another of these. And a bag of pretzels and a top-shelf water on the rocks for the lady.”
“That joke is so tired,” Whitney said. Alex shrugged.
“Back in the day, I got many a laugh out of the ladies of UNM with that joke.”
Whitney perked up. Well, as much as you can perk up when you’re on your fifth (sixth?) round of beer. “Wait, UNM? As in, University of New Mexico? You went to a state school? Am I in the presence of another commoner?” Whitney laughed in a conspiratorial tone after she said this.
“Depends on who’s asking,” said Alex. “Where did you go to school?”
“University of Texas.”
“Aha! So you’re one of those crazy, football obsessed Longhorns.”
“I guess. I’m not as into football as I should be. I’m a bad Texan.”
“Oh, well. There are worse flaws, I’m sure. UT is a great school.”
“Yeah, well, have you noticed that everyone here seems to have gone to a legit Ivy League? Every person I met today told me they went to Harvard, or Princeton, or Yale, and then looked at me like an alien when I said I went to UT.”
“Eh, it’s all in your head. I mean, yes, a large percentage of people here went to Ivy League schools. But not everyone. And I’m sure they care much less than you think they do about where you went to school.”
Whitney shrugged. She had a good education, but compared with almost everyone else she had met today, she felt small. Like a child trying to make it in a grown-up world. During the Dean’s speech earlier, she had felt ready to take on the world, proud that she was one of Northwestern Law’s future lawyers. But now she worried about whether she could make it among the elite. Everyone seemed so smart and had accomplished so much. She had not even started reading the assignments for the first day of class on Monday, mostly because she was terrified of the big casebooks sitting on her coffee table. She felt her stomach twist into a nervous knot just thinking about all the reading she had to do this weekend. Law professors were infamous for interrogating students about every last little detail of a case, trying to find any weakness, any tiny detail the student had forgotten from pages and pages of dense text. Whitney was terrified thinking about classes starting.
Alex interrupted her thoughts. “Look, I get it. It’s not easy when everyone seems to have a better back story. But you’re here just the same as them. Everyone’s on equal footing. Besides,” Alex leaned in and got a mischievous look in his eye, “You’re way hotter than most of the other
girls here.”
“Oh, stop it!” Whitney slapped Alex playfully. It was gratifying to hear him say that, even though she was pretty sure he was the ladies’ man type who said it to every girl he sat next to at a bar. He was a little too smooth with his corny jokes and predictable one-liners to truly take seriously.
“Speaking of back stories, what did you do before law school?” Alex asked.
Whitney felt surprisingly relaxed. Alex was easy-going, and she was not worried that he would judge her professional past. She managed to answer him without rambling. “Ugh, I worked in a call center. Worst job ever. I hated being on the phone all day, then I got promoted to management and hated sitting through meetings with my crazy boss. He was one of those people who just never should have been introduced to PowerPoint. What about you?”
“Well, during undergrad I was a server at a swanky restaurant. I had to learn a lot about wine, which I enjoyed. When I graduated I couldn’t find a good job. I majored in philosophy, so job offers weren’t exactly knocking down my door. I decided to become a sommelier. I had all these pipe dreams of one day becoming a Master Sommelier, but the requirements to do that are insane. I didn’t have the talent or the dedication.”
“But you were a sommelier? That’s so much more interesting than being a call center agent!”
“Eh, it was okay for a while. But even at a ritzy restaurant—maybe especially at a ritzy restaurant—the service industry is still the service industry. It wears on you. I decided it was time to think about something I wanted to do long-term. I picked law school because I want to make decent money. Helps with attracting the ladies.” Alex winked.
“Oh, come on,” Whitney said. She was not sure whether he was joking.
“Hey, it’s true! More money equals more chicks.”
Whitney shook her head in feigned disgust. “I’ll forgive you for saying that if you promise to teach me about wine. I love wine, but I’m so challenged when it comes to picking bottles. I usually just choose the one with the cutest label.”
Alex laughed and held up his glass. “Deal. Cheers! Oh, wait, you still have water. Time to get a real drink!”
“I don’t know, Alex. It’s almost 2 a.m., and I’m beat. The bar’s closing soon, anyways.”
“All the more reason to get one more drink now. Come on, we can share a cab back.”
Whitney glanced around at the thinning crowd. Elise was still nowhere to be seen. Had she left? Jamie and Lincoln were still talking, joined by another girl Whitney had not met yet. Kate and Crystal were still in the same corner booth, but Ben was not there anymore. They were both cozied up to some new guy, laughing at whatever bad, drunken jokes he was telling. Whitney had to admit she let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Ben had moved on.
“Okay. One more drink. But I don’t need a cab back. I actually live two blocks from here.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Trying to save some money?” Alex flagged down the bartender and ordered two glasses of a beer called Matilda. Whitney had never heard of it.
“Well, the places near school were so expensive. And I didn’t want a roommate. I mean, I’ve lived on my own for three years now. I wasn’t ready to take a chance on living with someone I don’t know. Not very adventurous of me, I know.” Whitney took a sip of her beer. “What is this?”
“Matilda. From Goose Island. It’s a Chicago brewery. You’ll see Goose Island beers everywhere here.”
“It’s not bad.”
Alex nodded. “I like it. And you needed to drink at least one beer tonight that wasn’t Miller Lite. Anyways, I don’t blame you on the roommate thing. I have one, but it’s because I met a guy last spring when we were both here touring the law school at the same time and we hit it off. His name’s Ben.”
“Ben Parks?”
“Yup, that’s him. You met him today?”
“Yeah, I met him at the cocktail reception. He seems cool.”
“Ben’s awesome.”
Whitney was trying to think of a nonchalant way to ask more questions about Ben, when Lincoln and Jamie walked up.
“Hey,” Jamie said. “We’re gonna take off. You live right around here, right? Are you okay getting home?”
“Yeah, I’m just two blocks away. Where’s Elise?”
“We put her in a cab for home two hours ago. She was drunk off her ass and angry that there were no Disney theme songs on the Jukebox.”
“Ha! I guess we have a lightweight on our hands. I’m fine though, seriously. You guys go ahead and go home.”
“Okay. Alex, do you want to cab home with us?”
“Nah, I’ll stick around and make sure Whitney gets home okay,” Alex said. “I want to finish my drink anyways.”
“Alright, well, I’ll see you guys Monday. I’m going to hunker down this weekend and tackle that mountain of reading we have to do for class,” Jamie said. Jamie and Lincoln left the bar, which was clearing out quickly at this point. Alex and Whitney finished their drinks, and then Alex walked Whitney the short distance to her apartment.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” Whitney said, as they approached the condo building where she lived. A tired doorman paid little attention to them as Whitney fished her keys out of her purse. Whitney was still feeling buzzed, and the exhaustion from the day and the late hour was starting to consume her. She could hardly wait to collapse into bed. She shivered as a breeze hit her, and tugged at one of the spaghetti straps on her dress that was starting to irritate her shoulder. A half-block away, she could see two guys stumbling along the sidewalk, singing off-key at the top of their lungs and occasionally bursting into laughter at their own awful melodies. She had been warned that Lakeview had a bit of a frat boy feel to it, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.
Alex smiled. “It’s no big deal. I needed to walk off a little bit of that beer.”
“Well, thanks. And it was great meeting you. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one with a state school and a normal job history on my résumé.” Whitney said all of this in a joking tone. Alex didn’t laugh, though.
“Hey. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart and capable or you wouldn’t be at Northwestern. Besides,” Alex said, lowering his voice and stepping closer to Whitney, “You really are better looking than all of the other girls I met today.” He reached out to stroke Whitney’s cheek with his index finger and leaned in even closer.
Whitney stiffened a bit and took a step back. “Oh, come on, Alex. Don’t start those games. You’re drunk.” Whitney did not mention that if it had been Ben on her doorstep, she probably would have invited him up, drunk or not. Alex was cute and friendly, but there was not a spark there. Alex sighed dramatically and made a motion like he was sticking a spear through his heart. Whitney rolled her eyes.
“You are so ridiculous.”
Alex recovered quickly and shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I had to try. I had a great time tonight. Don’t go getting all weird on me and avoiding me! Remember, I’m going to teach you how to choose a bottle of wine based on something other than a cute label.”
“Hey! You don’t get to make a move on me and then get mad if I decide to get weirded out. It doesn’t work that way!” Whitney kept her voice light. She was not really angry. Alex seemed like the type who was just always up for a little extra, um, fun.
Alex held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! Fair enough! I meant what I said, though. About your being smart and capable.”
“Thanks,” Whitney said, although she did not feel smart and capable when she compared herself to everyone else she had met today.
Alex gave her arm a friendly squeeze. “Okay, I’m gonna find a cab home. Get some rest. I’ll see you in class Monday.” Whitney gave him a quick hug, and then turned to head up to her eleventh floor apartment.
After fumbling with the lock for a moment, Whitney stepped into her small apartment and headed to the kitchen, hoping she could find some aspirin to go with the large glass of water she was about to cons
ume. She was not sure if the headache she could feel forming was from drinking too much or just from the stress of the day finally catching up with her. Probably a combination of both. She sighed as she looked at the huge stack of casebooks sitting on her Ikea coffee table. What had she gotten herself into?
She glanced down at her phone and saw that she had two texts. The first was from Elise. OMG guyss I sorry had to leave let’s hang out aggain soon. Kissesssss. Whitney chuckled. Apparently Elise was not only a lightweight but also a drunk texter.
The next text was from Rachel. So, tell me about your law school boy crush? Don’t act like you haven’t found one yet. Whitney sighed and could not help but smile. Rachel knew her too well.
Chapter Five
Whitney’s first class of her law school career started at 9 a.m. on Monday. She arrived at school at 7:50 a.m., travel mug of coffee in hand, and made her way to her first assigned class. During “1L”, the first year of law school, students typically do not get to choose any of their classes. All of Whitney’s classes and professors had been assigned, and her first class was Tort Law with Professor Jeffrey Neals.
Professor Neals was infamous at Northwestern for assigning an inordinate amount of reading, grilling students about the tiniest details of a case, and throwing an adult temper tantrum any time someone walked into his classroom even a minute late. Whitney had been warned that it was better to just not come to class at all if you were not going to make it on time. This is why she was now stepping into the classroom over an hour before the class was scheduled to begin.
When she entered the room, she saw that she was not the only one nervous about being on time. A dozen students already sat in the large classroom. They were scattered around the stadium style seating and looking nervous. No one was talking. Many already had their laptops out, ready to furiously transcribe as much of what Professor Neals said as their typing speed would allow. Whitney felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she surveyed the room. If Professor Neals decided to call on her today, she thought she might die. Her eyes landed on Lincoln, seated in the left corner of the room on the last row. She breathed an audible sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face, and made her way to where he was sitting.
