Simon Park (DMTN) - Escaping Orientation

Imagine That: You and Simon Park are Freshmen at the same University.
                              A boring Orientation is driving you nuts, so you decide to escape together.

      University. Supposedly, it was going to be the best four years of your life.
      You've only been on campus for three days at this point and already the light was beginning to fade from your eyes. For all the propaganda of people older and wiser than you, your university experience had so far been nothing more than a lame summer camp that cost thirty thousand dollars a year to attend. Rather than being able to hole yourself up in the library and dig into the endless shelves of books you've never heard of, as you'd hoped to spend your first few days on campus, you'd been dragged around by your Orientation Leader, playing stupid games meant to create friendships among the freshmen. Everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives. You, however, could not be less pleased.
      You are not a 'sports' person. You are even less a 'social' person. Crowds and yelling and running to and fro are things that do not play into your idea of a good time. You sigh heavily as your Orientation Leader shouts above the din, trying to get you to participate. You smile back at her and wave, like you'll give it an effort. She doesn't seem to notice and you realize that she isn't looking at you. Her attention is on another less than enthusiastic participant.
      He's standing off to the side, and you're surprised you didn't see him sooner. Maybe you had seen him, but you'd thought he was an administrator stopping by to see how things were going. The suit and tie had thrown you off. Looking at him now, you see that his suit is much more fashionable than any administrator's would have been. You hadn't bothered to look up at his face before, being short made it a hassle and being disinterested had made it pointless. You look now though, and realize that he's much younger than you'd supposed from his broad frame. Definitely a freshman, just like you. And also like you, he is distinctly aware of a thousand places he would rather be.
      The stranger is clapping as if he's supporting the actions of someone more involved in the game going on in front of you. He's not looking at the game though, so it's rather unlikely. He suppresses a yawn and turns his head away from whatever he'd been looking at to his left. His eyes blink behind his hipster-chic glasses, the black rimmed lensless things that you'd never understood until now. On most people they looked ridiculous, but on him . . . they play up his cheekbones and highlight his strong jawline. He looks good.
      Suddenly, he smiles. You realize he's caught you staring and you quickly look away in a rush, heat rising in your cheeks. God, three days into your new life and already you're the weird girl that doesn't play nice with everyone else and that gawks at attractive guys like an idiot. Wow, so much for turning over a new leaf of your life. Time to hide in your dorm room and never speak to anyone ever again.
      You feel a bubble of hot air press towards you as the wisps of air that count as a breeze around here died. This was another factor making you miserable, the excessive and stifling heat of whatever thermal inversion hell hole your campus was sunk into. You feel your shoulders sag as you begin to let yourself wallow.
       "I take it you're not a fan of  . . . whatever this game is."
       "I think it's supposed to be non-tackle rugby . . . with bubble wrap," you supply, trying to cover up your surprise that he could stand to be talking to you by saying the first bit of factual information your brain could conjure up.
       He smiles again. Your heart rate kicks up, marveling at the fact that you made someone, an attractive male someone, smile. Maybe he's laughing at you, but you can pretend for a moment. And his smile is really quite something, making you forget all of the things that had been pricking at you since your campus arrival.
     "Hey, you wanna get out of here?" He asks suddenly, looking back to the field with an air of disgust. "This heat is killing me."
     "Leave and go where?" you ask, having been wanting to leave all day, but not having anywhere else to go. You've only been on campus three days, so you don't know the area, and you want to make friends, even though you're not the most social, you still want friends . . . Your anxiety shows on your face.
     The stranger's smile widens. "I dunno, downtown somewhere. This town's not even a speck on the map, but there's gotta be an ice cream shop or something around here somewhere, right? I'd rather make friends with locals than these . . . calling them idiots probably won't score me points with anyone."
     "Except for me," you agree, startled at your audacity. "These kids aren't really the kind of people I want to be friends with."
     His sure brown eyes are staring into yours, looking at you like your the first person to speak plain English with him in months. "My name's Simon," he mentions, holding out his hand for you to shake.
     Taking his offer you reply with your own name, feeling a smile of your own stretch across your face. Simon puts his other hand on yours as you shake and as you start to let go, he holds on to your left hand tightly with his right. Then his smile twitches into a conspiratorial grin and he gives your hand a tug, encouraging you to run away with him.
     Your heart feels lighter than it has in months as you bolt from the scene. Your Orientation Leader notices and tries to shout after you, but Simon keeps his grip on your hand and tows you out of earshot before you can even think to hesitate.
      As you finally stop running, you and Simon begin to stroll towards the quaint shops of the 'downtown' area. Simon still hasn't let go of your hand. His hold has loosened, so you could pull your hand away if you wanted to, but you decide to leave it. Even in this horrible heat, your hands fit nicely together and it feels comfortable to have them linked.
     You give his hand a little squeeze of thanks as you walk.
     Escaping orientation had been the best idea ever.

                                                            Finite.

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A/N: I'm back at college now and watching all the poor little freshman dying in the ridiculous games that Orientation Leaders dream up, so this came to mind. I skipped most of my orientation activities. I didn't get to meet Simon, but I did meet some cool people. Moral of the Story: orientation sucks and is best avoided by all.