Kyle was petrified to come to Harvard. All of his buddies from back home were headed to Alabama, Texas A&M, and BYU. On their last night together, Kyle’s friends sat him down, said a prayer for him, and reminded him to try to keep his mouth shut so he doesn’t get canceled by his overly woke classmates. Before he officially left home, he hugged his mom, shook his dad’s hand, and kissed his guns goodbye.
Margo, on the other hand, had dreamt of going to Harvard since she came out of the womb. Instead of watching shows like “Yo Gabba Gabba” and “Blue’s Clues” as a child, she’d plop on the couch and watch CNN for hours on end. For 10th grade Halloween, while most of the girls at school were Hooters waitresses, Margo was Susan B. Anthony. Her senior year, she led the debate team to Nationals, got a 5 on her AP Environmental Science exam, and, of course, fulfilled her dream of getting into Harvard. Although she’d miss her Prius and her two cats, she couldn’t wait to get on campus.
Margo was most excited for her Gen Ed this fall semester called “American Society & Public Policy.” Kyle, on the other hand, got a late start to registering for classes since he wasn’t aware he needed to have his COVID vaccinations up-to-date. After finally completing the vaccine exemption forms, he was able to start enrolling in classes. Unfortunately for Kyle, the only Gen Ed with openings was none other than Margo’s most highly anticipated course.
On the morning of the first day of classes, Toby Keith’s “American Soldier” blared through Kyle’s alarm at roughly 10:00 a.m. He shot upright, coming face-to-face with the Nelk Boys “FULL SEND” tapestry hung up across from his bed. Instead of brushing his teeth, he popped in some Wintergreen Zyns. He put on his favorite blue jeans and a camouflage quarter zip and was ready to go. He had only a short walk to CGIS from his dorm in Canaday C.
Margo had been up since 7:30 a.m. She took out her favorite, freshly dry-cleaned pantsuit and put it on. The crispness of her blazer nicely contrasted her messy, bed-head curls. She spotted her colorful sticker-covered bike among the rest locked up near Pennypacker. She cycled with purpose to grab a cutesy cup of coffee and a plate of overpriced avocado toast to start the day she’d been waiting for her whole life. Before she knew it, it was time to go to class.
Kyle made his way towards the back of the large lecture hall, while Margo made herself comfortable right upfront. The first class mostly consisted of going over the syllabus. Kyle was zoning out, thinking about how his home friends got absolutely plastered every single night this week. The most exciting thing that had happened to Kyle so far was when his shared floor bathroom was empty one night when he really had to take a shit. Kyle snapped out of his trance when the professor mentioned randomly assigned partners for an upcoming project that asked students to address a relevant political issue. Margo’s eyes were glistening like a kid in a candy shop as she immediately began searching around the room, trying to sort out in her head who’d be a like-minded partner, and who would not.
As Margo whipped her body around, she accidentally knocked over her big Hydro Flask onto the ground. She bent down to get it, hoping that no one would be staring at her. Yet when she came back up, she briefly locked eyes with a rugged-looking boy wearing camo all the way in the back. She turned back to the presentation in front of her, but couldn’t help but think that the mystery boy was kind of cute. She let the thought last a second and then continued to focus on the class.
Later that night, Kyle was getting in a quick workout when he received an email with the subject line, “Your Project One Assigned Partner.” In the body of the message lay Margo’s full name. Curious as to who this Margo girl was, Kyle found himself on Instagram typing her name into the search bar. He clicked on her profile, saw she had 12 different posts on her Instagram story—half of them political infographics—and threw his phone across the room.
Margo received the same email with Kyle’s name attached. With her already busy schedule, she felt there was no time to waste and tracked down Kyle’s email to send him a message. Margo too couldn’t help herself from looking for Kyle’s profile on Instagram. Lo and behold, it was sort-of-cute camo kid. His bio had three American flag emojis and every picture posted was of him with a fish. Margo could already feel the panic building inside her. To some relief, Kyle was a quick responder. They planned to meet in Cabot Library the following night.
Margo found Kyle sitting in a booth. They both did their classic Harvard introductions and then got to work. Margo suggested that they choose a climate change issue, like how golf courses are destructive to the environment. Kyle took immediate offense to this as he considered himself a “pro golfer.” Margo rolled her eyes. She knew they would never agree on a problem to research, and she wished she could just tell him that owning three nice polos does not make you a pro golfer. Kyle could sense her annoyance, and the tension between the two continued to rise. All of a sudden, the boofy Harvard wifi gave out in the library. Kyle suggested that they just go back to his single in Canaday C since it was closest. Margo hesitated but knew she needed to take advantage of this time to work.
Kyle let Margo into his room. All of the lights were still on and South Park was blasting on the TV at a volume you’d think Kyle should have been made deaf by. Kyle pulled out his desk chair for Margo while he sat on his bed. Despite the reek of Old Spice and farts, Margo couldn’t help but find Kyle kind of… sexy. Something was changing in Kyle too. He noticed Margo’s sparkling blue eyes. They were just as blue as her hair. Suddenly, Margo jumped onto Kyle’s bed and the two began to ferociously make out. Political views had completely left the picture; they were just two horny freshmen in a musty dorm.
One thing led to another, and Kyle reached over to his nightstand to take out the 12-pack of Trojans he’d been anxiously waiting to open.
“Wait,” said Margo. “Are those biodegradable?”
Kyle scoffed but didn’t want to let her comment kill the mood. “No, I don’t think so. I can just not use any if you’d prefer.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Margo in between sucking Kyle’s neck off. “I brought my own!”
Written anonymously for the Independent.