“He’s still an asshole.”

The day before, if someone had asked her to describe Chad, she might have used the same word. But this Chad was talking to her. He wasn’t recoiling at her very presence. And it was easy to remember why she’d liked him in the first place.

After the orientation, she and Chad joined a group headed to a pho restaurant that didn’t card. Around ten, Claudia paid her share of the bill and got up from the table. Chad stopped her at the door.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Me, too.”

“I just liked you so much.”

It was the nicest thing she’d heard in months. So she kissed him. But when he texted asking if she wanted to hang out the next day, she texted back that she had plans: i’m sure i’ll see u around!

A couple days later, she kissed Jeremy from Long Island. They’d been on line to buy textbooks. Everyone around them was wearing a T-shirt that announced some aspect of themselves—FEMINIST; NYU VOLLEYBALL; NICE STORY, BRO—but Jeremy was wearing a faded plaid button-up and jeans that fit just right. He had short brown hair and blue eyes and the new Claudia was ready to start life as a sexually active single woman. Being with Ben had taught her how to get pleasure, and if she couldn’t be fooling around with Ben, she wanted to be fooling around. Because fooling around was fun. She was on the Pill and she’d insist on condoms, of course. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t have sex unless she wanted to. And she wanted to.

“Where you going after this?” Jeremy asked. It was six thirty, and she didn’t have plans until nine. “I’ve got pot,” he said. “Wanna go to the park?”

They made out on a bench next to the playground. Somebody walked by and muttered, “Get a room.” In response, Jeremy slipped his hand under her shirt. She loved it. Jeremy told her he was in a band and they were recording at a studio on Bleecker later that night. He said he was studying classical guitar, but liked making all kinds of music. Music, he said, was his life. He asked her if she was into music and she almost laughed—should she tell him who her dad was? But she didn’t want to seem like a bitch. She was working on that. As the sun started to go down and the performers by the water fountain changed shifts, Jeremy asked for her number and she gave it to him. But she didn’t program his name into her phone; if he texted after that, she probably missed it.