“Let’s see,” he says sarcastically, “of course it’s Tuesday. Is there another day that follows Monday? How do you expect the sky to look after it rains? It ain’t all sunshine and rainbows in Hanover, honey. Are you from California or something? There’s no need to study the Bible because God is dead. Look around. And college is an elaborate money scam. So my advice is to drop out and get a trade, like making ice cream, for example. I’m sure they make a killing here, which is how they can afford to remodel regularly. Does that answer your questions?”

I gasp in shock at the brashness of young people these days. I clutch my imaginary pearls and shout, “Young man, have you no decency?!” He rolls his eyes and turns around, leaving me to climb out of the cavern of his rudeness alone.

I am shaking my head in contempt when Bryce taps me on the shoulder from behind. “Hey!” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you were still coming since I didn’t see you at Bible study. It’s so nice to see you.” He gives me a big hug, and I can’t figure out if it’s a friend hug or an I-want-to-do-secret-things-to-you embrace.

He smiles awkwardly before falling silent. The line advances forward, but Bryce remains quiet. “Is everything OK?” I ask softly. “I mean, we don’t have to talk. I was just wondering if something was up?”

“I just can’t stop thinking about our conversation in the cafeteria, how real, honest, and raw it was.… And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I turn toward him in total surprise. “Really?” I ask, floored.

“Yea. I just think you’re so special. Thoughtful and deep. It’s really rad. Without Dartmouth, I probably would have never met someone like you.”

I melt. Imaginary angels descend from heaven and begin tooting their horns in delight. So this is what it feels like to be wanted. A thousand firecrackers ignite inside my soul. I look down, then toward the heavens, then into his eyes. I am as radiant as the newly shining Ladles parlor. I prepare to be loved, finally, by someone I like back.

He has more to say, but hesitates. “I think… Whew, this is harder than I thought. I think… I’m falling…”

Suddenly his face pixelates and glitches as if he’s about to transform into Agent Smith from The Matrix. He morphs into Manda Panda, who yells, “Woo-hoo, luv you too, bitch! Roomies fa life.” I pop out of my bed and realize it was a dream.

Manda Panda, who is kneeling by the side of my bed, says, “Well, I do, you know.” She awkwardly runs her hand down the side of my face before getting up.

“Ew, why’d you do that?”