With an exhausted sigh, I surveyed my surroundings and really took everything in for the first time. My new place wasn’t half bad. It was an old house, but structurally, it was in mint condition. Before I moved in, the walls had been redone, new flooring was put down in the bathrooms and kitchen, and all of the windows were replaced. The house was going to cost me an arm and a leg per month, but when you lived in the University District, it was considered normal to pay half your salary in rent.

Plus, based on what the owner had told me about the historical significance of the place, and the heads of the university who lived there prior to me, the amount was actually reasonable. Then again, he might have just been feeding me a load of shit to justify the steep rent. Regardless if what he said was true, all I knew was that geographically, the place was convenient because it was close to my new job at the university. It was either here, or a loft way out in the suburbs where the commute would have been brutal.

Anyway, I preferred the idea of having a house, even if it made me stand out among my neighbors. As a thirty-year-old, single chemistry professor renting a huge, five-bedroom house in a neighborhood populated by retired judges, doctors, and business moguls, I definitely seemed a little odd. I was told that ninety percent of these folks had no actual affiliation with Las Positas, yet they chose to live only two miles away from the campus. Some of them could have very well been charitable donors to the school or major sponsors for campus events, but right away I had discerned something of a disconnect between them and the college.

Once I realized that I couldn’t procrastinate unpacking any longer, I started opening boxes, and couldn’t help but wish I had someone to give me a hand in sorting through things. I stopped and imagined what it might feel like to be married, sorting through curtains and setting up guest rooms. Yet, marriage didn’t seem like something that was going to happen for me, because according to my friends, I was a huge flirt. And on top of being a flirt, I had always been really bad with commitment. It wasn’t intentional; I just hadn’t met anyone I wanted to settle down with.

I wasn’t a player or a dick; at least, I didn’t think I was. My friends always told me I was just a funny, charming guy that people seemed to gravitate to. No matter what new situation I found myself in, I never had a hard time making friends. I’d only been in town a few days and already I’d connected with a few of my co-workers, all of whom seemed cool enough so far.

Unfortunately, one of the women I met on an orientation day had already made me feel a little uncomfortable. Her name was Casaundra Evanston, and she had been at Las Positas for a decade, even though she wasn’t much older than me. According to one of the other professors, she was supposed to make tenure, but for one reason or another, it had been put off for a few years, and she had almost quit. Apparently, gossip was a major commodity at the university, and people traded it like it was worth its weight in gold.

When I met Casaundra for the first time, she cornered me in the science department teacher’s lounge to introduce herself, and it felt really awkward.

“You’re the new professor, huh? You look awful young,” she said with a scowl, as she swept her long black hair away from her face.

I laughed, feeling my cheeks turn red in the process. It wasn’t a reaction I was used to, especially around a woman, but something about her put me off my game. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you.”

“I bet you have a few less PhDs than me though, right?”

I didn’t want to come off rude, so I tried to laugh her insult off, but I just wanted to get away from her. But, instead of letting me escape, for some reason, she seized the opportunity to be my personal tour guide and show me around campus. I did need someone to show me around, since I hadn’t been given a proper tour yet. But, as much as I needed directions, I declined her offer. I figured that if I was going to be working here for the next ten years or so, I should be looking for these places on my own, just to get a feel for the university. Plus… I was afraid she’d lead me down an alley and drain me of my blood.

Casaundra respected my wish to wander around myself and begrudgingly let me leave the orientation without her. But, earlier today, when I ran out for cleaning supplies, we ran into each other again at the grocery store. She pulled me aside in the condiment aisle with an excited and echoing laugh and told me that she and some of the other professors were going out for dinner and drinks that evening and that I should join them. We exchanged numbers, and she said that she would let me know where they were going to meet.

As of now, I was still waiting to hear from her. I wouldn’t be surprised if I never heard from her at all; the invite seemed a little forced. Truthfully, I kind of hoped she just forgets, because I wasn’t really in the mood to go out, especially in light of the storm that had just blown in.

Then, out of nowhere, my phone vibrated on the table next to me. It was Casaundra. “Shit,” I mumbled out loud as I grabbed the phone and read her text.

There were no emojis in her message. There were no exclamation points. In fact, it felt completely devoid of emotion, to the point I was a little uncomfortable. I could tell she didn’t really want me there and honestly, I didn’t really want to accept the invitation, but this would be a good opportunity to meet more of the professors in the science department. I could use some pointers from some of the more seasoned faculty, if in fact they were tagging along at dinner at all. Something told me, though, that this outing would mostly involve only the younger professors. Frankie’s catered more to a more youthful clientele.

As I stared at my phone and debated what to do, thunder rolled across the sky without warning, a sound which made me seriously consider staying home. But I also suddenly realized that I’d been so busy unpacking, I hadn’t eaten all day, and it was nearing 6pm. So, I decided I’d go and have dinner with my colleagues, then leave if Casaundra made it weird or I wasn’t having a good time.

I looked down at my clothes and decided that I definitely needed to change out of my dusty, ragged jeans, knock-around sneakers, and paint-splattered maroon T-shirt. People tended to get dressed up when they went to Frankie’s, and I didn’t want to stand out by looking like a schlub on my first night out with new co-workers. After some debate, I decided on a gray designer blazer, a white button-down, some black slim-fitted pants, and a pair of suede, smoke gray loafers. I hoped I wasn’t over-dressed, but I figured over was better than under.

Once I was changed, I headed back downstairs, making a quick turn for the kitchen to grab a pack of peanut butter crackers. I needed to scarf something before I left the house, just to get my energy up a little. I was close to running on empty. Then, I threw on my black pea coat, snatched up an umbrella, and headed outside into the torrential downpour.

I could only hope something happened that made it worth going out into the horrible weather…