Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [84]
Michal indiscriminately pulled clothes out of the closet—a plain white blouse and jeans. Years of coming to the States on furlough and discovering her clothes were woefully outdated had led to a firm resolve: She disregarded being in style almost entirely. Attempting to rotate her outfits (she had a total of about ten, as she switched blouses with differing skirts, slacks, and jeans), Michal didn’t fret much over that either. In her opinion, hassling over clothes, hair, and makeup wasn’t worth the time or effort.
She rummaged through a drawer, debated putting on socks, but quickly vetoed that idea and tossed them aside. Slipped on worn but comfortable sandals. Took one last glance at herself in the mirror and nodded, satisfied.
After shoving books and notebooks into her backpack, Michal wondered if she should say something to Beth. The sound of regular breathing proved Beth had drifted back to sleep. Afraid her roommate might be irritated if awakened again, Michal thought better of that idea. Feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration, she closed the door softly behind her.
As Michal hurried to chapel, her thoughts shifted toward Florida, to her Aunt Sarah. Spring break was only a few days away, and she’d already purchased a bus ticket to Fort Myers—how good it had felt to finally hold that small piece of paper in her hand—the confirmation she really was going. Now it was safely stored away, tucked into the book of Psalms in the Bible she kept in her room.
“Hey. You’re walkin’ like a woman on a mission. Some sort of special entertainment going on that I don’t know about? That the reason for the huge smile on your face?”
Michal had been so focused on her trip to Florida that she’d taken no notice of others around her—not even Allistair Fuller, a McMaster’s student who wasn’t just anybody. This was the Allistair Fuller, number-one guy of interest to all her suitemates (and possibly every other woman in Peterson Dorm) for numerous reasons: He was a senior, star on the soccer team, baritone in a men’s quartet, and student body president. Michal’s suitemates had also listed off everything that made him “easy on the eyes,” as they described it: a noticeably square jaw (with the prerequisite dimpled chin); an unremarkable nose (no extra large or hooked ones accepted); wavy, dark brown hair (they were convinced he’d never go bald); deep-set, light blue eyes rimmed with dark, thick lashes (you could “get lost in them,” they’d insisted); and a wide, inviting smile (a definite plus).
Whether Allistair was aware he was exceptionally handsome was open for debate. Some insisted he was oblivious to it, and was actually very likeable. Others read conceit into everything he did: how he played the game of soccer, the way he spoke up and voiced opinions in class, how he conducted himself simply walking around the campus. When he was friendly to underclassmen, some would say, “Look, he’s not beneath talking to anyone.” While at the exact same time, detractors would cynically comment, “Look how condescending he is.” No matter what Allistair did, though, it was almost always noticed.
Beth and Michal hadn’t overlooked Allistair either. He was, admittedly, hard to miss. But in their equally offbeat, characteristically cavalier way of dismissing attitudes and desires the other girls wallowed in, the two MKs banished swooning over guys, pretty much completely. And Allistair in particular.
From Michal’s observation, if you gave most college women a mere five minutes of free time, their thoughts and discussions inherently drifted toward men. She and Beth were amazed by this constant infatuation; they were puzzled by the mesmerized spell their friends seemed to fall under. And frankly, they were irritated by the distraction the entire gender caused.
At the same time, and not so surprisingly, Michal hadn’t gone unnoticed by the men on campus—sans makeup and fussed-over hair. Even sweaty and covered with mud on the soccer field. Her infectious laugh, sunny disposition, and evident good looks (despite the lack of any attempts toward enhancement)