It’s the first day of senior year. Around me people are excited to finally be in their last year in uni and off to a new adventure. We’re supposed to have just ended our summer internship but it seems like everyone just came off a vacation. Their beautiful moist caramel skin glistened under the bright light of day, a clear contrast to my milky white complexion that suggests I’ve never met the sun in months. True enough this has been the first in 3 months that I’ve seen the bright star beaming its radiation at me. To save fuel and avoid traffic jams I have to leave home before the sun rises and time out at work after the sun sets. Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Newton Edward Wu, but my friends call me New. I’m a senior economics undergraduate student vying to graduate with latin honors. Precisely because of my ambition to graduate as summa cum laude, I’ve elected to keep my number of friends at a minimum. That way I won’t be distracted by the bombardment of invitations to go parties or hang somewhere but, still surrounded by people who motivate me to study hard.

“Knock knock!” There’s John, the funniest of the group.

“Who’s there?” I replied coldly as he rested his arm on my shoulder.

“To.”

“To who?”

“No it’s to whom.” He makes the corniest jokes known to man. To hone his craft, he decided to torture us with never-ending terrible puns and jokes.

“Ass.” smirked Tristan as he took my left flank. He’s your serious-and-can’t-take-a-joke kind of man. John once jokingly called our trio “The Godfathers” and it kind of stuck with us. I may not have a lot of friends, but these guys have been the support group I badly need. Through life’s best and worst the Godfathers have always had my back, especially when I was diagnosed with bone cancer.

The bell rang, signalling the start of class. I sat on my usual spot in class, front row closest to the middle aisle and to my left is Tristan then John. My favourite professor entered the room in his usual khaki pants, leather oxfords, department-issued polo-shirt, and his laptop. He was not one to waste time checking attendance by calling out names, no, this man would simply pull out his phone and take a picture of the class of 20 seniors.

“Alright, welcome back, seniors,” Prof. Long yelled enthusiastically with his fatherly voice. One could almost see the excitement he tried to hide to maintain his reputation as the professor to be feared. But the Godfathers and I could read him and we all knew he was proud of what the entire batch had achieved. To be a senior at the Department of Economics was an impressive feat. We started with 300 freshmen 3 years ago, and now only of us 20 have remained.

“Due to the Department’s lack of manpower, I’ll be everyone’s thesis adviser and instructor for your Econ 141Y, and 142 class for next semester.”

He then proceeded to discuss the details of the class and the requirements we need to submit come the end of the semester. The class went on and everyone was intently listening and typing down notes in their laptop. We did the same, see the Godfathers and I are your rare breed of diligent, gym-loving, nerds. If not in the library, your best chance at finding us would be at the gym or in the cafe. Though for Tristan and John, this would mean an internet cafe, I prefer spending my time in an actual cafe reading books.

As the day ended, we paid a visit to my favourite coffee shop. It’s close to where I live but far from school and even farther from Tristan and John’s homes but they humour me because this cafe is strategically located just a block from our gym and a neighboring building to the internet cafe where the other two would play. This was my study haven, this is where Tristan, John, and I would meet to study after they’ve finished playing computer games and I read a novel. As we had much to work on today though, we had to cut out some of our daily routine, my reading and their playing times.

“An order of green tea, please. Venti and for here. The name is New, ” I ordered.

“Alright one green tea for New coming up,” replied the cute little barista as she encoded my order on the computer and I tapped my credit card on the POS machine. She then proceeded to perform her rhythmic dance of preparing my order. Minutes later another barista announced, “One green tea venti for New!”

As I got my order from the counter, I walked to my usual spot at the far end of the communal table to the right of the counter. It’s far enough from the baristas that I can only hear the faint litany of orders they’d take yet close enough for me to make only a minimal effort to walk to.

“We have to start thinking of a thesis proposal,” just as Tristan started talking, my ears couldn’t help but hear that deep voice at the counter.

“Double shot of espresso, please.”

And there he was, Mr. A. The first time I met him was back in junior year. I was walking along the cafeteria when what hit me was the scent of Bulgari Man in Black cologne followed abruptly by his shoulder. I know that rare scent because I wear exactly the same one. His lightly tanned skin was complemented by his white button up shirt. He dressed casually, but not the kind of casual that screamed like he doesn’t care what’s on him; it was smart, smart casual. You can notice the attention to detail, his shirt tucked perfectly under his cobalt blue ankle pants, his watch, loafers, and distressed messenger bag seemed to have been sourced from the same brown leather. His hair, short and clean on the sides yet long and slightly messy on top but no one would mistake that as a bedhead. He gives you this subtle vibe of confidence that makes you think he’s in control of everything, even time itself. And I think he is because as I kept looking at him from behind, it’s like time stopped to allow me to cherish this rare opportunity to enjoy the facade of this beautiful man. As I continued to take the view all in, I felt a sharp pain on my head.

“Focus, New. We need your attention to detail right now.” Scolded Tristan as he wiped his pen clean of my pomade.

“How can he? Mr. A. is here,” John teased as he noticed who I was ogling just moments ago.

“No, I wasn’t. I was trying to read the menu.” I swiftly denied the accusation brought to me.

“Bullshit. You already ordered tea just a minute ago,” replied John, clearly dissatisfied with my excuse. Damn, he didn’t take the bait. I need to act fast.

“So, yeah, I was thinking that if we proceed with the topic that Prof. Long is passionate about, we can easily get his approval to proceed with the thesis proposal and two, so we can ask for his help looking for expert opinion.” I proposed to try and cover my shame for being caught indulging my eyes.

“Sounds reasonable,” replied Tristan.

As we kept discussing the details of our thesis proposal, Mr. A. made his way out of the cafe. Well I guess out of sight, out of mind.