I was walking behind him on a hot day at the beginning of the semester.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes. After I watched him climb the stairs he sat his book bag down to pull a shirt out of his bag. He put it on as I passed him into the building. I walked into the lecture hall where my class was and took a seat. Of all people to take the seat in front of me, it was the same guy. He had his shirt on, but he was still barefoot. Having such an attraction to the male physique, I thought truly the universe was smiling on me. I could barely pay attention to the lecture, because all I could concentrate on where his muscular legs, his perfectly shaped arches, his plump toes, and his smooth soles.
What kind of guy dares to go barefoot in public? He was not even wearing flip-flops, just a t-shirt and gym shorts. You might be thinking I am describing a dirty hippie, or some other strange non-conformist, but I am not. He had short, well groomed, auburn hair. If anything he looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch model.
One might say he looked more like a slightly younger Colton Haynes. Believe me he was hot! At the end of class he got up and walked quickly toward the door. I tried to follow, but a small crowd had gathered by the door blocking my way. By the time I got to the exit of the building, he was long gone.
The next time the class met, I had better luck. I got there early to take the same seat. He took his same seat in front of me once again wearing a shirt but no shoes. Not even flip-flops. He spent the whole class with his bare feet crossed under the chair allowing his perfect soles and toes to look directly at me. Then after class I made it out of the building before him and I waited for him at the bottom of the stairs.
As I pretended to check stuff on my phone, I saw his feet just a few inches away. I took a quick glance up. I saw him take his shirt off where I got a quick glance of his abs and made eye contact, and he seemed to know I was stalking him. He walked away.
A few days later around lunchtime as I was walking toward the cafeteria, I saw him by himself, lying under a tree, on a towel, and reading while he ate his lunch. I found the confidence to go talk to him. I stood over him. “I guess you hate eating in the food court, huh?”
“Say what, now?” he looked up at me.
“You know,” I said, “because of the whole ‘No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service’ thing.” My comment of course was meant to be a joke.
He chuckled, “Ya got that right. I go in there. I get my food. Then I come out here or go somewhere that I can take my shirt off.” He sat up and invited me to sit. As I sat he said,
“You’re probably thinking the same thing everyone else is thinking.”
“What’s that?” I said with his feet in the corner of my eye.
“Everyone thinks I’m some kind of hippie or some freaky non-conformist, but what’s so wrong with being a regular guy who just happens to like being barefoot and shirtless all the time?” he said.
“So why? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“No reason really. It kind of gives me a sense of freedom. So far, no professor I’ve had seems to mind my bare feet in class,” he said as he looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. “But after a few class sessions every professor asks me to put on a shirt,” we turned our attention to his abs. “They say it distracts everyone, particularly the females. Frankly I don’t see why,” He said. I could see why, though. It’s nice to meet a guy who doesn’t get so full of himself over his looks.
Anytime I saw him, he was without a shirt or shoes. I saw him in the library all the time with a shirt, but no shoes. I saw him at a few parties with neither a shirt nor shoes. I saw him at a few places off campus with no shirt, no shoes.
How does he get away with that? It was such a mystery.
