I, the quintessential good girl, honor student was drawn to his bad-boy look — long hair, beard, well-worn jeans and jeans jacket, not to mention he drove a Triumph 650 motorcycle. He was drawn to — well, I'll get to that later.
We met again a couple of days later when he turned up in my painting class, too. He was studying art. I needed an art class and thought a hands-on one would be more fun than Art History. Because the supplies we needed for class were so expensive, the art teacher suggested we students go in together on them. Mark struck up a conversation with me after class and asked where I lived. I told him, and he said we should share art supplies. He could pick them up that day after his classes and bring them over to my house since I lived "right on his way home."
It turned out his idea of "right on the way" was a little different than other people's. I lived with my parents 30 minutes south of the college, and he lived 20 minutes west of school. And I'm talking windy two-lane country roads.
Who could resist a guy who was willing to go out of his way like that right right from the start?