Take a Look

The moment he met her, he understood; it was quite obvious to Chris Hunter why Eric would never shut up about his new girl. Aimee Martin was strikingly beautiful, from the way her bronze hair shimmered effortlessly with every tiny movement, to the power expertly concealed behind her electric green eyes.
"Eric!" Aimee squealed, whipping her arms around the boy she loved. "What in the hell took you two so long? And why haven't you introduced me yet?" she said, playfully scolding Eric for not properly introducing his old friend.
"If you give me about two seconds to catch my breath, I might be able to," Eric choked, seemingly suffocating from Aimee's death grip. "Not that I don't like being smothered every time I see you," he added with a smirk.
"Aimee, this is my buddy Chris. Chris, this is my girlfriend, Aimee. Me and Hunter here have known eachother for - how long's it been?"
"Pushing ten years, bud," said Chris, "how long have you two been together?" knowing full well that the answer would be...
"Three blissful months," said Aimee dreamily. Chris choked back a laugh; he couldn't help it. He had never seen his friend act so...gushy. Eric was always the kid gloating about being in control, never having to worry about being whipped. Girls would literally go crazy for him back in high school, Chris remembered, but Eric never actually had a legitimate girlfriend for more than a week. But if there was ever a girl to settle Chris's friend down, he knew it would sure as hell be this girl.
"You guys hungry? I'm in the process of cooking some wicked mac and cheese," said Aimee, beaming her brilliant smile.
"No, we're not hungry at all, are we Hunter?" said Eric sarcastically, "We just drove 300 some odd miles without stopping for food, right? Nah, we don't need to eat." That was the Eric Chris knew; Eric Palmer simply couldn't resist using his dry humor ever chance he got.
As the three were finishing up dinner - and Aimee wasn't kidding, she could make one mean macaroni and cheese - they heard a sound eerily similar to a gunshot, a sound that unearthed some haunting memories of Hell Week two years prior.
"You guys ok?" Aimee asked, feeling slightly uneasy at the way both boys' faces drained all color with one sound. "That's just my roommate, her car's a serious mess, and backfires every time she stops. It can be really annoying, actually, especially when she works late. No chance of sleeping when you hear a shotgun at two in the morning."
"Anyone ever take a look at it before?" asked Eric, the color creeping back to its normal shade of tan.
"I don't think so; I don't think she can afford taking it to a mechanic, what with having to pay for college on her own and everything."
"Palmer can probably take a look at it, he's a wizard when it comes to cars," said Chris wryly, only slightly trying to bust his buddy's ego in front of his girl.
Aimee snorted. She couldn't help but laugh at Eric's lack of expertise in the simple task of changing the oil. While his old and new friend teased eachother, Chris realized they had company.
"This a good time, Aimee? Or should I circle the block for a couple hours?" the roommate quipped.
That was effective. "Good to see you made it home without your car murdering you," said Aimee, finally breaking away from Eric. The two roommates embraced for a quick hug, and then Aimee went through introductions, predictably leaving Eric as the last to be introduced. As kind as she was, Aimee sure seemed to enjoy the spotlight, and somehow it worked well for her.
In fact, Aimee's roommate seemed to be the polar opposite of the bubbly, happy-go-lucky Aimee Martin.
Olivia Eddy was a naturalist in the way she looked and dressed. Unlike her best friend, Olivia didn't bother to dress up every time she went out, nor did she need to. Her soft olive skin, combined with her small, simple smile, was as warm as a fireplace quietly cackling in the dead of winter. And just like her Italian mother, her golden brown hair resonated in the dying sun.
But it was not Olivia's smile, nor her tanned feature, that got Chris's attention. It was merely a look shared by the two blue-eyed strangers, a look that - in less than a second's time - seemed to grab at Chris Hunter's stomach with the force of a wild thrill ride.
This was definitely something Chris was not accustomed to feeling. Yes, he had a few girlfriends back at home, but they never seemed to create the same feeling he just felt, and this was all by a coincidental look that most likely had no meaning, or feeling, behind the twinkling eyes of the girl across the kitchen table.
Yes, he was sure of it now, it was purely accidental. Now that he thought of it, he did have a few moments in high school where sparks surely seemed to fly, only to discover the sparks had rapidly turned to ash. And those were with people he knew. There just couldn't be anything behind this look, not with his luck.
Hours passed by before anyone noticed the time. The four new students at Southwestern University shared much of the same interests, talking deep into the night about whatever seemed to cross their minds. For a moment, Chris became silent. It was a favorite hobby of his to just sit back and watch his friends laugh jovially. It always reminded him how lucky he was to be sitting here, soaking it all in.
The newly acquainted friends called it a night after Olivia started dozing off on the kitchen counter. "Aims, I'm heading to bed," the roommate yawned, staggering off the counter. "Racquetball tomorrow?"
"Of course, wake me up when you get up?" Aimee asked.
"Will do. Eric, Chris, it was quite fantastic meeting you fine gentlemen," said Olivia, slightly mocking formality. "I'm sure I'll see you two a lot around here." she winked and was off.
But not before another look at Chris. He was so caught off guard that he merely stared while she stumbled down the stairs. One random look happens frequently, he knew that. But two looks? Is that still a coincidence? And there was a genuine smile there too, he was sure of that. Certainly wasn't the same smile she gave during introductions. Right? But how could he tell? He was no expert in psychology; maybe the smile was exactly the same, but just looked different to him because...why?
One thing was certain, he concluded, he sure felt something for her. The question he suddenly was dying to answer seemed an easy question, but could be maddening all the same: was the feeling mutual?