First Impressions

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Memory & Dream : First Impressions

Summary: Never judge a book by its cover.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
SERIES: Memory & Dream
CHARACTERS: Kevin Harvick, Dale Earnhardt Jr, Kevin POV.
COMPLETED: January 6, 2008
WORDS: 1,423
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yay, so the roommates have finally met! I can’t wait to see where they go. Stay tuned!
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: Thanks to Zippit for the beta.
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San Francisco University: September 2nd, 1997

He’s not at all what I expected my roommate to be.  Red hair, skinny, ridiculous southern accent…and he wants to be an artist?  Really?  Somehow I never would have pegged someone like him coming to a place like this.  No, he looks more like the type of redneck I’d run into out at the race track.  But he’s not and even though he’s lucky enough to be from the south…it doesn’t mean he’d understand my former obsession.  That’s why I hid my racing magazine when he came in and took me off guard.

Slide my hand across the generic, beat up wooden desk and look over my stack of textbooks to the lush green yard below.  Watch dozens of students milling around, getting ready for or returning to their lives here and I feel a little out of place.  I’m older than the usual first year, thanks to my foray into racing, and I’ve tried to downplay that as much as I can.  Thankfully most students here seem to be too absorbed in their own business to worry about my missing years.  But what about my new roomie?

He came clear across the country to leave race central and come to college and I can’t help but wonder why, wonder what drove him so far from home.  Part of me itches to ask him, to pick his brain about what it was like on the east coast.  Did he ever follow the sport? 

It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone away from the track or garage that I might be able to talk to, but I can’t.  I won’t be stupid enough to bring it back to him, not when he’d probably know the kind of person I really wanted to be…and might hold it against me.

No, there’s no room for that life here.

This is a place for people with money, something I don’t have, and fancy schools, that I didn’t go to.  I was lucky enough to get accepted here, I don’t need people knowing I’m paying for it by working in a garage.  I don’t need people knowing that I am--was--a racecar driver.  

I had my chance, took my shot, and wasn’t good enough to draw the right attention despite my best efforts.  I wouldn’t take a fucking handout from my dad so I’m here and I’m gonna be the best damned architect the world has ever seen…as long as I can keep making enough for tuition.

Look over at Dale scribbling something on his sketch pad as he lounges on the bottom bunk and I wonder again what exactly brought him here.  He just got into town, according to him, and with school starting tomorrow he must not be footing the bill for this. 

He didn’t really bring any books or notebooks beyond sketch pads so I really don’t think he’s on scholarship.  Nah, I bet mommy and daddy are paying for his full ride.  Must be nice.  And from the looks of all the custom computer equipment he pulled out of his closet he must be big on the internet stuff.  I bet he already has one of those emails.  Snort softly to myself as I rock back in the desk chair.  This is definitely going to be interesting.

“So, you from around here?” he asks me in a thick southern drawl and I look over to see his sky blue eyes locked on me.  He’s curled up against the wall, looking at me over the sketch pad and I can’t help notice how he holds it in front of him almost like a shield.  Very interesting.  Maybe there is more to him than just a spoiled southern hick after all.

“Yeah, I’m from Bakersfield.”  Home of my idol Rick Mears who I guess I’ll probably never meet now.  Frown slightly but immediately try to push it away.  I need to let those dreams go.  “It’s a little under 300 miles southeast of here.” Tilt my head and study him a bit more since there’s nothing else to do in this closet of a room.  “So, what part of North Carolina did you say you were from again?”

“Moorseville,” he tells me without completely meeting my eyes and it makes me wonder if he’s lying or hiding something.  Either way it’s not like he’d be the only one.  Besides, a little mystery might just make this whole “roommate” thing more bearable.  I’ve never been much for sharing space and the size of this room is a joke.  I just hope I don’t end up regretting this whole thing.

But what choice do I have? I don’t wanna just continue being a mechanic all my life and I’d never really make it in the racing world in the garage.   Anything less than being behind the wheel and I know I’d be miserable.  No, it’s time to move the hell on with the rest of my life.

Push back from the desk and scowl when my chair collides with the corner of the long chest of drawers.  Fuck.  This place really is too small.  Look over to my new “roomie” to see him completely engrossed in his sketch pad again.  Must be a theme with him.

“So, Redneck,” I start and wait for him to raise his head before I continue.  “Wanna go see if the food here is edible?”  Stand and push my chair back under the desk.  “There’s a cafeteria downstairs.  I can’t vouch for it but if it sucks I do know a good Thai place within walking distance.”  Shrug and run my hand along the back of the chair  “Either way you should at least get a chance to see some real California girls.”  Grin when that gets a smile and take a half step back when he climbs off the bed.

“Are ‘California girls’ really all everyone makes them out to be?” he asks with a crooked smile that I can already tell is gonna get him game.  Hell, his accent alone is going to turn heads.  Maybe this is all gonna work out after all.  If anything he should make a decent “wingman.”

“Yeah, I guess, if you like silicone, leathery skin and Botox.”  Laugh at his initial look of disgust and shake my head.  “Nah, it’s not that bad.  You just have to get used to the fact that nothing really moves,” I tell him and I make a groping motion with my hands.  “Nature of the beast out here, Jackson.  Think you’ll be able to handle that?”

“I can handle more than you can imagine, Harvick,” he tells me with that same grin as he tosses his pad and pencil back on the bed.  “But tell me, just what beast is doing the huntin’ out here?”

“Besides me?” I shoot back with my best cocky smirk, laughing when he rolls his eyes.  “Perfection,” I tell him simply.  “That’s the eternal curse out here.  How to become perfection.”  Watch him as he seems to ponder my words and then turn for the door.  “But don’t worry.  I’m about the least perfect person you’ll meet out here.”

“That makes two of us,” he drawls back and I can’t resist a smile.  Even if he is a spoiled brat with money he might not be that bad of a guy.  Somehow he’s already putting me at ease, or maybe it’s just the accent…I don’t know.

“Cool.  Guess I won’t have to kill you in your sleep for that automatic 4.0 then,” I respond with a laugh and grab my keys from the top of the mini fridge he must’ve put the deposit down on. 

“I’d love to see you try.  This redneck ain’t one to go down easy, ya know,” he tells me with a wink and heads out the door.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I find myself in a brawl,” I shoot back as I follow him out of the room and realize that in the last few minutes I’ve felt more comfortable talking to him than I have since I got here. 

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com