She wasn't very tall, but she was lanky, with broad shoulders made to look wider by short, messy hair, and she was freckled all over, her face, arms, even legs, creating a chaotic, but not unpleasant, beige and brown halftone pattern from her eyes to at least her ankles. Her feet I wasn't sure of at first, since she trudged over in ratty tube socks and slide sandals, our initial meeting no greater than her flopping heavily on the couch next to me.

            I had been sitting in the dorm lounge, trying and failing to remember what assignments I had to complete, it being midway through my second semester in college, and my short-term memory inexorably tainted in a fog of skunky smoke, when her round butt in red dolphin shorts passed in front of the television, obliterated any possible train of thought I had, and found its way onto the neighboring cushion.

            “You into softball?” She asked, quiet in a way that I wasn't entirely sure if she was talking to me.

            “Uh, yeah.” I lied, immediately caught up in the pied pattern of her legs. I hadn't actually been watching the game, it was just flickering lights. At the time I'm not even sure if I knew the rules, who was playing, if our college even had a team.

            “Cool, me too. I'm on the junior team.” She said.

            “Cool.” I replied, trying not to be too obvious about my wandering eyes, but ultimately unable to look away from those ropy legs crossing, uncrossing, crossing back, strong ankles rolling, crotaline toes wriggling.

            “We just had practice,” She said, probably noticing my stare, and sliding off her sandal to lazily turn her darkened sock towards me, “I'm beat, and I bet my socks stink. Wanna check for me?”

            “What?” I looked at her incredulously.

            “Just kidding!” She smirked and shifted in her seat, allowing her shoulder to bump up against mine, “I'm Rachel, by the way.”

            “Ah, I'm Koji.” I said.

            “Nice to meet you, Koji.” She said, and I nodded, too confused to respond in kind. We watched the screen for a bit longer in a quiet dotted with occasional responses that I tried to mirror. Finally, a pitch, a swing, a celebration for the away team. She stood and turned.

            “If you're into softball, why don't you come out to our game Saturday?” She asked, adding, “It's part of our warmup tourney.”

            “Uh...” I wracked my addled mind for any plans I had made.

            “Sounds like you're free. You know where the field is, right?” She asked.

            “Yeah, I think so.” I said.

            “Awesome. Root for me, okay?” She smirked again, perhaps a telltale sign of her impishness, “I'll catch you around, I've gotta get started on my pre-calc work.”

            “Pre-calc? What are you majoring in?” I asked.

            “Oh, who cares?” She winked and walked off, leaving me beyond lost, my only lodestar that generous rear nearly waving goodbye as it trotted away. Wait, did I have math work to do? I should check my notebook, maybe I wrote it down, I thought. Instead, I walked outside, smoked until my brain was empty, and fell asleep reading the one book I had that wasn't required for a class.