Worst. Spontaneous. Name. Ever.
“Lil?”
“Yeah, it’s my rapper name,” I joked.
“Like Lil Nas X? Lil’ Kim? I like it.” Well, he laughed at least.
It occurred to me that “Lil” paired with my last name, Lee, would end up with “Lil Lee”—pronounced . . . Lily.
Boy, was I an idiot.
Ethan pitched me on the Asian Student Association, the very organization in which I was VP of communications over a decade ago. Back then, we didn’t have enough of an Asian population to form subgroups, such as Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino organizations, like other big universities had. I had hoped by now that those individual groups would have come to fruition.
I looked down the row of tables and didn’t see a Korean Student Association. “So is the Asian Student Association the only Asian group at Carlthorpe?”
He shrugged. “Sort of? There’s an official Chinese Culture Appreciation group. We have unofficial clubs like the Korean Pop Culture Stan Club, which I helped cocreate, and the Taiwanese Foodie Club, which I also founded—I’m half Korean, half Taiwanese. These smaller clubs don’t have the numbers yet to secure organizational funding. We’ve been pushing hard to get that changed the last few years. I’m a fourth-year student now.” Ethan smiled. “Are you a senior too? I haven’t seen you around before.”
And the first of the awkward conversations about my undergrad status had arrived: Did I come clean with my real situation, or play along that I was indeed a senior, without revealing more? On the most technical level, I was a fourteenth-year student. Omission wasn’t necessarily lying, especially if it was for something minor and nonharmful like taking classes on campus to complete a degree, right?
“I took time off. It’s my last year here, hoping to graduate this semester.” All of this was true.
He grinned. Ethan was really cute for a young twenty-something-year-old. He was at the age where most guys were in peak form. Thick black hair, lean but muscular physique, chiseled jaw, and bold fashion choices. He wore a fitted tee to reveal his dedication to the campus gym. If I was in college, I would be starry-eyed smitten. Well, I was in college, but you know, not like—
“Wait, aren’t you in that CS class with Doc? I thought you looked familiar.”
Oh wow, that had come right back to haunt me like a murderous machete boomerang. “Yeah, but . . . I’m trying to transfer into stats instead. CS isn’t for me.” More specifically, awkward encounters with Jake Cho weren’t for me.
His right eyebrow shot up. “Wait, why? You got that free pass already for your first assignment. I was actually wondering if you wanted to be my group partner. Well, one of my group partners. I have some friends in that class and we’d love to have you join. Please?”
I mean, how could I say no to this college-aged Daniel Dae Kim clone? “I’ll think about it, I just came from the registrar, the stats class is full anyway.”
“Well, if you’d join us, I bet you’d want to stay. We have study sessions in the Commons. Give me your number and I’ll make sure you have the meet-up info.”
I didn’t remember making friends—or groupmates—so easily the first time around. Non beginner’s luck, I guess.
“And while you’re here, you sure you don’t want to join ASA? We have our first meeting soon,” he added with a smirk.
I blurted the words, “Maybe another time,” even though OH HELL NO! was screaming in my head.
My phone buzzed with a text. Hi. It’s Ethan. I’m standing right here heyyyoooooo
I tried to swallow a laugh but it came out anyway. He had an easygoing, goofy sense of humor.
Ethan smirked. “That’s me. Oh, take a T-shirt. I can tell by your face that you’re leaning toward no, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy free stuff.” He handed me an XL men’s tee.
I held the shirt by the shoulders and shook out the fabric. A gasp escaped me.
“What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. It’s just that this tee is so soft and the logo is, um, neat.” Neat? Did college kids even say that? I certainly didn’t, unless I was at a bar and ordering a whiskey for Mia, which was why it was so bizarre it came out of my mouth.
The ASA logo featured prominently on the shirt was over ten years old. I knew, because I designed it.
Ethan examined the tee. “Yeah. The color logo is nice too. A few guys tried to redesign it, but the original looked better. It’s simple but still stylized. A classic.”
He held out his hand. Unsure of how to handle this interaction, I extended my hand and timidly shook his. Ethan explained, “That’s our handshake agreement that you’ll be our group member in CS, at least until you officially abandon us for stats. You’ll round out our group to four people. It’s a good number. And a good group.”
I didn’t see any harm in that. “Sounds neat. See you around.” My shoulders scrunched to my ears as I walked away. Neat? Again, Lily?
Could I survive being in Jake’s CS class? Not taking computer science in undergrad was always something I regretted, mainly because there were so many job opportunities for graduates with CS backgrounds. Was it possible to take the course and try to compartmentalize it, separating the class from my ex? Maybe this could be a good learning experience. And a personal growth experience. So what if Jake was there? I didn’t have to talk to him—back in college, I never talked to my TAs. I never went to office hours. And I still made okay grades . . . well, until senior year. Could Ethan and his friends ease my discomfort in a way that being a lone person couldn’t? So what if Jake was likely one of those nurturing, helpful, encouraging teaching types and I was missing out on my education by not engaging with him? All I needed was a passing grade.
It was nice to be asked to be part of a group. Throughout my entire life, being asked to join a group or team was always flattering in some way. Someone wanted to be in my company, or, like in this case, wanted me for my brains. But maybe this was what I was missing out on the last time I was a senior.
I texted Ethan: When’s the first group meeting?
Next week after class.
Welcome aboard!
With a slow smile spreading across my face, I headed back to the apartment.