"Let's write a book," Rose announced, breaking the companionable silence.

Startled, Brandon turned his gaze from the small window above the sink. Setting his coffee mug on the old Formica table, he stared at Rose. She always pulled her statements from thin air.

Rain beat a staccato upon the window above the studio apartment's kitchenette. Pleasantly, the couple spent their time making love to the steady beat of the downpour. Brandon rose to scramble eggs and sip coffee.

He liked the way Rose looked. Sprawled across his double bed, she stretched her sinuous body. The smile of skin appearing between her white panties and matching tank top enthralled him. Brandon considered himself a lucky man.

College life was a new experience for him. His mother disliked the idea of an out-of-state university. For once, he argued her down. The full scholarship changed her mind. Other than living expenses, he had no other financial worries. Grandfather took care of his rent, food and transportation.

Brandon met Rose in his creative writing course. It was his one act of rebellion. All his other courses led him toward an architect's career. In the back of his mind, he thought of writing a book. He considered characters, plots and background scenes. Then, he dismissed them. The footsteps of his life turned him in opposite directions.

Rose opened new doors for him. Doors he willingly wished to explore.

Brandon's mind travelled back to the initial days of his college experience. He arrived early for his creative writing class. His footsteps echoed around the silent lecture hall. Only three other students arrived ahead of him. All of them swiveled their heads to gawk at his appearance. Two of the boys sat close together at one of the tables. They both wore white button down shirts and black ties. Their too short black slacks showed white socks inside black loafers.

The girl presented nothing to look at. She sat alone in the first row before the lectern. Her thick glasses hung above protruding buck teeth. Turning, she grinned and patted the chair next to her. Brandon pivoted and slipped behind a table in the middle of the lecture hall.

"Only geeks and freaks show up early for class." Simon's high school mantra flashed through Brandon's mind as his eyes roved around the scene.

What was he? A geek or a freak? He wished he'd lingered in the corridor before entering.

Casually other students began to drift in. Singly or in groups, they chose their seats. A pile of books dropped onto the table he occupied. A hand supporting a young lady slapped down beside them. Turning her back on him, she continued to speak to her companion.

The two girls--one blond, the other brunette—spoke of their summer in Europe. He heard the words London, Paris, Naples. Then tuned them out. Their conversation was none of his business.

When the professor entered, everyone scrambled for seats. The brunette plopped down next to him. Her naked thigh pressed against his navy slacks. Her denim cut-offs rose sharply into the crease between her buttocks and leg. Brandon glanced at her, then lowered his eyes.

Brandon felt overdressed. The students surrounding him appeared in an array of casual clothing. Most wore shorts, tank tops and sandals. The young man three rows in front of him sported a pair of Snoopy pajamas.

Mother bought his clothes and packed his suitcases. He had grey, navy and black slacks, button down and polo shirts, several neckties and a pair of black loafers.

"Dress like a professional and people will treat you like a professional," his mother stated as she packed his clothing. "Jeans and t-shirts announce you have no respect for yourself or the education you wish to obtain."

"Yes, mother," he'd answered, knowing she was wrong. But, you never argued with mother...unless you were Simon.

Wishing he could disappear, Brandon sunk down in his seat. He lost all interest in the lecture although he remained keen on the creative writing class. He'd felt like a sore thumb in other places, mostly high school. He wanted a different college experience.

The girl beside him poked him in the hand then slipped him a folded paper. Opening it, Brandon glanced at her petite handwriting then refolded it. What's your name? it questioned. His face flamed red, and he stared straight ahead. Three minutes passed then he reopened it. Scrawling his name, he passed it back to her.

Rose, she wrote beneath his name. Wanna get a sandwich after class?

Sure, he wrote back. He did not know why.

The cafeteria lunch became the start of a new friendship. In a few days, they became inseparable. Ambling walks around the university town and evenings at an off-campus bar filled their time. Nervously, Brandon accepted the fake ID Rose handed him. In a college town, no one paid much attention to age, his companion assured him.

Unprepared, Brandon fell madly in love with Rose. By the end of two months, she became a co-resident in his off campus apartment. She complained bitterly about sharing a dorm with an uncompanionable roommate. Without waiting for an invitation, she moved in with him.

"Are you with us, Brand?" Rose asked, her head dangling from the edge of the mattress. Her chestnut hair cascaded toward the floor. "Or did you move to Mars? I said, let's write a book."

"Yeah, a book," Brandon responded, the curve of her hanging body mesmerizing him. "What about?"

"Oh, about us," his companion nonchalantly answered.

"Us, why?" he asked. "We're boring."

"We'll make it exciting." Rose rolled over and sat up. Tucking her long legs beneath her, she reached out to grasp his hand. "Besides, I'm never boring, Brand."

Brandon agreed. Rose never bored him. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to feel excited. She took him places he never knew, never understood, never realized existed.

Until the beginning of his college days, Brandon's life had been a straight line. He studied. He did not participate in after school activities. He never dated. Although he hung around with a few friends, he never achieved popularity.

In a way, leaving home set him free. Rose altered his entire outlook on life. Suddenly, all his desires fell into his lap. He considered writing a book with her and found the idea agreeable. She made him see that he wanted to be an author, not an architect.