Chapter 6: Spaghetti and Social Strategies

“Read read read read read read read everything you can read and Learn learn learn learn learn learn learn everything you can learn ‘Cause there is no tomorrow like today And there is no today like tomorrow” - Lack Of Knowledge (Violent Femmes)

I woke up early the next day and felt good. I decided to start the day with a shower. The shower was hot, and the water cascaded down my body, washing away the last remnants of fear and insecurity from the previous night. I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the soft fabric against my skin.

I had bought a new outfit, and today I would wear it with confidence. I picked out a crisp white shirt and a pair of well-tailored khaki pants. The material was soft against my skin, and I couldn’t help but feel like a new person. The reflection in the mirror was unfamiliar yet comforting.

I had chosen the clothes with care; they were not flashy or overly expensive, just nice enough to make me feel like I belonged in this new world of dates and socializing.

As I headed out to grab a cup of expensive coffee, the morning air was crisp, with a hint of the salty ocean breeze. The sun had just started to rise, painting the sky with a soft pink glow that reflected off the windows of the buildings. The café was a few blocks away, and the walk there was a delightful mix of anticipation and reflection. The sound of the waves in the distance was a comforting reminder of the night before, a gentle backdrop to the cacophony of my racing thoughts.

As I sipped my coffee, I thought about the study session with Rebecca. She had a way of making even the most mundane activities feel like an adventure. I had never felt more alive than in those moments when we were together, learning and laughing. The thought of seeing her again today brought a smile to my face.

Before heading to her place, I stopped at a nearby store to pick up some studying supplies and snacks. I grabbed a few highlighters, sticky notes, and a pack of gum for her to chew on during her study sessions. It was a small gesture, but I hoped it would help her focus and keep her motivated. The candy aisle was a minefield of sugary temptation, but I managed to snag a bag of chocolate-covered almonds and a pack of fruit gummy bears. These were the perfect balance of sweet and nutritious to keep our energy up without crashing.

Walking to Rebecca’s apartment with a backpack filled with goodies, I felt a sense of excitement and purpose. I had never been one for shopping, but the thrill of choosing the right snacks and supplies for someone else was surprisingly enjoyable. The sun was high in the sky, and the sidewalks were busy with people going about their day. The smell of the ocean grew stronger as I approached where she lived.

When I arrived, I knocked on the door and waited with bated breath. The anticipation was palpable. She opened the door with a bright smile, dressed in a casual outfit that accentuated her natural beauty. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans.

“Ready to hit the books?” she asked, gesturing for me to come in.

“More than ever,” I replied, handing her the supplies I had picked up.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the chocolate-covered almonds. “You know me too well,” she said, popping one into her mouth. “So, how was your first date?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “It was amazing. The food, the conversation, the kiss—”

“Hold on,” she interrupted, her eyes widening with fake surprise. “You kissed her? On the first date?”

“Only on the cheek,” I answered.

“Well, that’s a good start,” she said with a knowing smile. “I had a great time on our date. How do you think you did?”

“I think it went well,” I replied, trying not to blush. “Your advice really helped. I felt more relaxed than I thought I would.”

Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “That’s what happens when you’re genuine. You can’t go wrong being yourself.”

“But what if she didn’t enjoy it?” I said, still a little nervous.

“Trust me, if she didn’t enjoy it, you would know,” Rebecca assured me. “Now, let’s get down to business. We have books to tackle and a party to prepare for.”

We settled into her living room, which was surprisingly neat and orderly. The walls were adorned with a few cheerleading trophies and photos from her high school glory days, serving as a stark reminder of the stark contrast between our social circles back then. I set down the backpack, and we dived into her textbooks, discussing strategies to improve her studying habits. I shared some of the techniques I had learned during my law school journey: the importance of summarizing information in your own words, breaking down complex concepts into manageable chunks, and the power of teaching someone else what you’ve learned.

As we pored over her psychology textbook, I noticed that she had a tendency to skim over the material, which was a common pitfall for many students. I gently suggested that she slow down and engage with the content more actively. She took my advice to heart, and soon she was jotting down notes with fervor and asking insightful questions that indicated she was truly engaging with the material. We took turns explaining concepts to each other, which not only reinforced her understanding but also allowed me to view the topics through a different lens.

The hours flew by, and before we knew it, our stomachs were growling. Rebecca looked up from her notes and said, “I think it’s about time we take a lunch break, don’t you?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” I said, standing up and stretching. “What do you have in mind?”

Rebecca led me into the kitchen, which was surprisingly well-stocked for someone who claimed to rarely cook. She rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients. “How does a simple pasta sound?” she asked.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, watching as she expertly chopped vegetables and boiled water. It was fascinating to see her in this domestic role, so different from the party-loving, cheerleading queen I had known in high school.

As we cooked, we talked about the upcoming party. Rebecca had a knack for breaking down social situations into manageable tasks, much like the way we were tackling her psychology textbook. “First things first, you have to mingle,” she said, tossing the veggies into a pan. “Don’t just stick to one group of people or hover around the food table all night. Walk around, introduce yourself, ask questions, and genuinely listen to what they have to say.”

“But what if I don’t know what to say?” I asked, feeling my confidence waver slightly.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said, turning to face me with a reassuring smile. “When you’re not sure what to say, ask questions. People love talking about themselves. It’s like giving them a gift, really listening and showing interest in their lives. Plus, it takes the pressure off you.”

We sat down at her kitchen table, which was adorned with a red-checkered tablecloth and a vase of fresh flowers. The aroma of garlic and basil filled the air, and my stomach growled in anticipation of the meal to come.

“Okay, so you know the basics of mingling,” Rebecca began, twirling a strand of spaghetti around her fork. “But let’s talk about body language. It speaks louder than words.”

“Body language?” I echoed, a bit skeptical.

“Yes, it’s crucial,” Rebecca said, setting down her fork and leaning in. “You know, open posture, good eye contact, nodding, and smiling. It shows that you’re engaged and interested in what others are saying.”

As she spoke, I found myself nodding along, taking in her every word. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I could feel the tension of my upcoming social engagement dissipate slightly.

“Remember, the trick is to be yourself but just ... better,” she said with a wink. “So, let’s talk about your body language. You have to look relaxed, like you’re not about to flee the scene at the first sign of small talk. Uncross your arms, sit up straight, and lean in slightly when someone is talking to you. It shows you’re engaged.”

I nodded, trying to take in her every word. It was strange getting advice from someone who had once felt so untouchable, but here we were, sharing spaghetti and social strategies.

“And when you do get into a conversation,” Rebecca continued, twirling another mouthful of pasta, “keep it light. You don’t want to scare people off with your imminent demise on the first night.”

I laughed, a bit too loudly, and she shot me a concerned look. “What?”

“It’s just, I can’t believe we’re sitting here discussing the art of mingling like it’s a battle strategy. It feels like we’re back in school planning for prom or something,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Rebecca giggled, the sound melodious and infectious. “Well, in a way, it is. Only this time, you’re not going to be stuck in the corner with a book, are you?”

“Not if I can help it,” I said, taking a bite of the spaghetti. It was al dente, with just the right amount of sauce—not too dry, not too soggy. Rebecca was a surprisingly good cook.

“This is amazing,” I said between chews. “You could open your own Italian restaurant.”

Rebecca beamed with pride. “Thanks, Martin. It’s all about the love you put into cooking. Now, let’s get back to the party prep. Remember, confidence is key. Walk in like you own the place.”

We spent the next hour discussing party etiquette. She coached me on the art of small talk, how to navigate a crowded room, and the importance of maintaining eye contact. I listened intently, nodding along, as she shared stories of her own social escapades and the lessons she had learned from them. It was strange, yet comforting, to be receiving advice from the girl who had once epitomized everything I feared in high school. Her words of wisdom were like a warm blanket, wrapping around me and filling me with a sense of belonging that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

After lunch, we moved back to the living room, our plates cleared away by the efficient Rebecca. She spread her psychology textbook and notes across the coffee table, and we settled into a comfortable rhythm of studying. I quizzed her on the material we had covered, and she answered with surprising ease. Her confidence grew with every correct response, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in her progress. The way she threw her head back and laughed when she aced a particularly tricky question was infectious.