I
My friendship with Stacy was unusual from the day we met. The random events that led to me—a twenty-four-year-old “fifth-year senior”—having a freshman for a roommate were weird enough. But for that freshman to also be the hottest girl I’ve ever met? Well… the second hottest.
Let me back up—my name’s Sofia. I graduated with a Bachelor of Culinary Arts degree almost a year ago. I was starting my last semester less than a year before that. Yes, it took me five years to graduate, and I was one of the oldest in my class. I took a gap year; shut up. Plus, I transferred schools halfway through to change majors, and it took three years to get all my prereqs because of how classes are scheduled. Anyway, I chose my major because I love cooking and baking.
As you may have gathered, I’m into girls. Like so many people these days, I’d technically call myself bisexual, but I far prefer women. Especially cute, short white girls. Preferably a blonde with a chubby butt and a pair of “tig ol’ bittys,” as my idiota brother and his friends called them.
About a month into my penultimate semester, my roommate Kammy transferred out. She was a Junior in Chem-E and got offered a TA position at the State school. We’d mostly tolerated each other’s presence. She was into nerdy stuff like puzzle-y video games and Japanese cartoons. By contrast, I prefer to veg out by watching some Bake Off or binging all the best cooking YouTubers like Babbish or Amaury Guichon. Anyway, she transferred out, leaving me without a roommate. I didn’t particularly mind, as it gave me extra space, but I was starting to go a little stir-crazy by the time Stacy showed up.
The Student Housing office called me one day and said they had an incoming first-year on the waiting list for a dorm. She was a townie, so she’d started the year intending to commute but was finding it a hassle with winter on the way, so she decided she wanted to live on campus after all. I agreed to share my room again. This freshman couldn’t be worse than Kammy. It would only be a semester and a half by that point, anyway.
Stacy was gorgeous. She looked like a cross between Florence Pugh and Kate Upton: five-two with a size 12 ass and size 34G bras. And, sadly, straight as uncooked spaghetti. I got over my disappointment pretty quickly. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time I had a massive crush on one of my “girl friends.” None of them seemed to have walked right out of my late-night fantasies as Stacy, but as my abuelita would say, “así es la vida.”
Despite the age difference, the two of us hit it off right away. Stacy loved watching all the things I did, though she claimed to have no talent in the kitchen. She was in the Music program but was considerate enough to only work on her playing while I was out. Not that I would have minded— she had a voice like an angel. Although admittedly, I was down so bad for her that my opinion was pretty biased.
Best of all, Stacy was a big “snacker.” I was experimenting a lot in the classroom kitchen in my final year. And while I, of course, did plenty of sampling as I worked, I couldn’t possibly eat all the food that I made. Which left me constantly stuck trying to give away cupcakes, puff pastries, and hors d’oeuvres. I’m exaggerating somewhat, but in a school with so many female students, girls were forever on diets or saving their splurges and cheat days for drinks and parties. But not Stacy. She would sample anything and everything I brought back to our room, showering me with praise and boosting my ego.
“It’s nice to have someone who appreciates my work,” I said as I watched Stacy pluck a second brownie from the plastic container. “Every other girl on our floor is starving herself before the holidays.”
“Yeah, –munch– I’ve never been too worried about that. Sure, I’m a little thicc, but most of it goes to my boobs, so guys don’t seem to mind.”
I often replayed that conversation during my… “private time.”