Page 2 of Thigh Highs
“Let me know how that one goes,” I respond, voice dripping withsarcasm.
Fifteen minutes later we’re dressed and getting into my car, heading off to the college where we’re both in the middle of studying for a diploma in advertising. On the first day of class last year, I noticed Alice doodling a very unflattering picture of our terrifying Intro to Copywriting instructor and we’ve been friends eversince.
There’s a five year age difference between us, and while it results in a lot of jokes about my dusty uterus, we make the friendship work. Alice is only twenty and on her first go at post-secondary education, whereas I’m back at school after an undergrad in business management and two years in and out of temp jobs made me realize I wanted to specialize in something more creative. I went freelance for awhile and still run a small business creating marketing strategies for entrepreneurs, but I have my eyes set on a job at a firm and I need thecredentials.
Alice plugs her phone into the car and starts blasting the same Ed Sheeran song she was singing in theshower.
“Volume!” I shout over thenoise.
“You old fart,” she complains, reaching for the knob. “You’ve forgotten how to rock androll.”
“I don’t think Ed Sheeran really qualifies as rock androll.”
“True.” Alice bobs her head to the music. “This has been stuck in my head allday.”
She starts belting out the words just as loud as she had the music blasting a second ago. I shake my head and resign myself to thenoise.
Ten minutes later, we pull up into the school’s parking lot and my rusty Subaru wheezes to a halt. One day I know this car is going to leave me stranded on a highway somewhere, but all my college payments mean a sweet new ride is not at the top of my financialpriorities.
I grab my shoulder bag from the back seat and Alice hops out of the passenger side, swinging a Jansport onto herback.
“This Persuasive Communication class is killing me,” she complains, as we walk side by side into the main campusbuilding.
“I’m taking it nextterm.”
“Prepare to die,” she warns me. “Although if you want a deeply discounted textbook, I’ve gotyou.”
“I’ll swap you out for my Digital Marketing book,” Ioffer.
“How is that class?” she asks. “I’m still trying to figure out when to takeit.”
“Itwouldbe a great course,” I sigh, “only it’s ruined by the presence of one AaronPenn.”
Alice nods solemnly. “The DoucheKing.”
“Whenever I need some extra motivation at kickboxing, I just imagine that the punching bag is hishead.”
A big group of students passes through the middle of the hall, separating Alice and I for a moment. We join back together once they’regone.
“I mean, he’s awful, but it’s impossible to completelyhatehim,” remarks Alice. “He’s got that...that thing, youknow?”
I reflect on Aaron Penn, on his impossibly tight t-shirts, sandy hair that’s usually falling into his eyes from under a beanie, and smarmy smile that always seems to be able to see right through my clothes. Alice is right. No matter how many times he refers to me as ‘Peaches’ or struts around like god’s gift to planet Earth, there’s something magnetic about the energy he puts out. It’s served him well in the advertising program; you’d be hard pressed to find someone who wouldn’t buy anything he decided tosell.
“I know,” I concede, “but it’sbecauseI can’t completely hate him that I hate him. He’s the kind of guy you should be able to write off as acarahloand avoid for the rest of your life, and yet he’s still got half the campus drooling over him. It’s just sounfair.”
“Sexually frustrated much?” smirksAlice.
“Um, no. Frustrated, yes. But sexually? No way inhell.”
Alice raises hereyebrows.
“He’s hot,” I admit. “I’ll give him that, but come on Alice, he wears abeanie.”
She lets out a laugh loud enough for heads to turn towards us. “Okay yeah, the beanie is a bitmuch.”
“Anyways,” I continue, “we’re getting our partners assigned for the campaign project today, the one we use as a qualifier in theshowcase.”
“Watch you get Aaron,” Alicejokes.
