During Freshman Orientation Camp, the so-called "Campus King" tried to show off by opening a water bottle with his abs. He failed. My best friend happened to whisper a joke in my ear right at that moment, and I snorted out loud. The King’s sidekick thought I was mocking him and called me out. "What's so funny? Put up or shut up." So, I stood up, lifted my shirt to reveal a shredded six-pack, and popped the cap off a Dasani bottle using nothing but my core muscles. The girls screamed. The sidekick looked terrified. "Dude," the sidekick whispered, "your nose is bleeding." 1 During the break, my bestie, Chloe, dragged me under the shade of a massive oak tree. She shook a can of sunscreen spray like a bartender mixing a martini and unleashed a chemical fog on me. I swatted her hand away. "Chloe, stop. Save it for yourself. I’m a track athlete; I’m supposed to be tan." Chloe smacked my hand back. "No way. I can't let a goddess like you ruin her skin. Even if you don't burn, we are not taking chances. I became your bestie for the eye candy, okay?" I rolled my eyes and let her marinate me in SPF 50. Nearby, a gaggle of girls from our dorm were whispering. They thought they were being subtle. They weren't. "Omigod, Mason is so hot." "I heard he was practically running his high school. A total alpha. See that skinny guy next to him? That's his hype man, Leo." "Look at those pecs. That waistline. I always thought these orientation uniforms looked like trash bags, but on him? With that tactical belt? It’s giving top gun energy." Is he really that great? They were staring directly behind me. I was about to turn around when the Drill Instructor (DI) walked over, grinning like a shark. "You ladies and gentlemen bored?" "Yeeees," the crowd groaned. DI Miller smirked. "Oh? How about we play a game?" A crisp, clear voice rang out from behind me. It sounded warm, like sun-baked pavement, but with a hint of arrogance. "Sarge, if your 'game' involves more burpees, we're suddenly extremely entertained by sitting still." A scrawny voice chimed in, "Yeah, we're actually having a blast." "Too late," Miller snapped into authority mode. "You said you were bored. Form a circle. Sit down. We're doing a talent showcase." "Ughhhhh." "I'm counting to three. Anyone not seated runs laps. One—" The shuffling was instant. Everyone hit the dirt. 2 I dragged Chloe to the back row and watched Miller. Miller was young, probably Gen Z like us. He was chill until he wasn't. He definitely saw some TikTok trend and wanted to use us as lab rats. We sat there, blinking at him like baby birds. "Any volunteers? Show us a talent." Silence. Miller put on his best disappointed-dad face. "Nothing? I thought Gen Z could do anything. Climb Everest, code an app, survive the apocalypse. I am disappointed." The clear voice spoke up again. "Sarge, you're Gen Z too. Can you do all that?" The skinny guy: "Yeah, exactly." Miller adjusted his hat. "Nope. That's why I'm disappointed in myself. And doubly disappointed in you." I turned my head. The voice belonged to a guy with a buzz cut, sharp jawline, and high nose bridge. Mason. He was undeniably handsome. He was already bantering with the instructor, flashing a set of deep dimples. Chloe nudged me hard in the ribs. "Ooh, checking out Mason? The Campus King?" "That's Mason?" I asked. Chloe looked scandalized. "Girl, are you blind? I spotted him day one. He’s the hottest guy on campus. How did you miss that?" I pulled her arm off me. "Probably because on day one, someone sprained her ankle, and I had to carry two sets of textbooks and piggyback you up six flights of stairs." Chloe giggled guiltily. "Hey, you're strong! I love you, Sloane!" I ignored her. Chloe, sensing danger, started cracking jokes to get back on my good side. As students started performing random talents in the circle, Chloe dropped a punchline that caught me off guard. I snorted. Loudly. The skinny guy, Leo, glared at me. "What are you laughing at? You think you're tough? If you're so cool, you do it." Me: ? I looked up. Mason was standing in the center, shirt lifted, holding an unopened water bottle against his abs. There was a red mark on his skin. He had failed the trick. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with embarrassment. I looked away. Leo wasn't letting it go. "Why aren't you talking? Blah blah blah..." He was annoying. "Shut up," I snapped. "I'll do it." 3 I walked up to Mason, took the water bottle from his hand, and turned to face the crowd. Without hesitation, I unzipped my jacket and lifted my olive-green tee. My abs were rock hard, defined, and tanned. I jammed the bottle cap against my oblique, twisted my core, and—Pop! The cap sent flying. Water splashed onto my camo pants. I didn't care. I handed the bottle back to Mason and turned to leave. Leo’s jaw was on the floor. He looked like his brain had short-circuited. Mason stared at me, his pupils shaking. I scoffed. I was wearing a sports bra. No big deal. The crowd was stunned for two seconds before erupting. The girls were screaming louder than the guys. "Holy crap! I'm dead! Marry me!" "She's ripped! She's gorgeous and handsome at the same time!" "Ma'am! Gender is a construct, I am free this Friday!" DI Miller: "Whoa, keep it down! Don't let the Commander hear you thirsting!" As I sat down, girls swarmed me. Chloe threw herself in front of me like a bodyguard. One girl asked shyly, "Hi, can we be friends?" Chloe barked, "No! You don't want to be friends; you just want to touch her abs! Back off!" I recognized the girl. She was the one drooling over Mason earlier. The girl blushed. "Is it that obvious?" Chloe: "Yes! Sloane's body is for my eyes only! I'm the only one allowed to touch the abs!" To prove her point, she reached under my jacket and slapped my stomach. My skin turned red. The girl’s eyes turned red with envy. Me: "...Stop it. Sit down." "Okay." Chloe sat. Just as I was about to scold her, I heard Leo scream in terror. "Holy sh*t, Mason! Your nose is bleeding!" Mason: "...Shut up." 4 The downside of showing off is that the instructor remembers your name. Miller asked me if I had anything prepared for the Campfire Gala. He said, "This is a competition between the four platoons. We need to dominate. We need shock and awe." I said, "I don't know what kind of performance counts as 'shock and awe.'" Miller waved his hand. "Just sing two songs. Then, for the grand finale, do the ab bottle opener thing. The guys in Platoon 3 will lose their minds when they see I have a student who can do that." Me: "...Pass." Miller gave me the sad puppy eyes. Me: "...Fine. Fine." Miller: Happy noises. That night, I brought my guitar case to the field. Sixteen squads formed a massive circle. The Performing Arts squad did a choral rendition of "We Will Rock You" and a K-Pop dance cover. When a group of long-legged dancers made those baggy uniforms look like high fashion, the instructor of Platoon 3 was grinning so hard I thought his face would crack. He even came over to taunt us. "Hey Miller, your squad is looking a little low energy. You guys gotta step it up. My squad just... naturally excels." Miller rolled his eyes. "Get lost." He turned to me, handing me a water bottle. "Sloane, it's all on you. Don't let that guy win." I nodded. "Got it." The K-Pop dance ended, and the crowd started chanting for our squad. I was about to stand up when Mason walked past me. He snatched the water bottle out of my hand. He muttered, "Making a girl do the ab trick in front of everyone? Do us guys have no shame? What if... what if you have a wardrobe malfunction?" Me: "?" Mason walked to the center, put the water bottle on the ground, glanced at me, and nodded at Miller to hit the music. He started with a breakdance routine. The flashlights from the phones created a halo around him. He moved like water—sharp, fluid, mesmerizing. He was genuinely talented. The crowd went wild. Even Miller nodded. "Kid's got moves." We all thought that was it. But when Mason locked eyes with me, I knew he was up to something. Was he going to redeem his failed bottle trick? I underestimated him. The music switched abruptly. It wasn't cool hip-hop anymore. It was... "Baby Shark" remix? No, something weirder. A viral TikTok meme song. Mason started twerking. He threw away all dignity. He shook his hips with a flexibility that put the K-Pop girls to shame. Me: "..." The Crowd: "HAHAHAHAHA!" Miller: "I take it back. That kid is a clown." Finally, Mason grabbed the water bottle, successfully popped the cap with his abs (redemption!), and walked off to thunderous applause. He beamed at Miller. "Sarge, was that 'shock and awe' enough for you?" Miller: "It was shocking, alright. My colleagues are going to roast me for a year." 5 Thanks to Mason warming up the crowd, the atmosphere was electric. I grabbed a fresh water bottle, slung my guitar over my shoulder, and walked to the center. I promised to open a bottle. Chloe ran over to set up the mic stand. The crowd was buzzing, but when I plugged the acoustic-electric in, the feedback hum silenced them. Then the whispers started. "She's my new goddess." "She has that 'I could kill you but I won't' vibe." "Is it true girls in Squad 1 have to bench press their body weight to join?" Someone shouted, "Hey Miller! Is having abs a requirement for your squad?" Miller beamed. "No, no. Sloane is just... standard. You know." I tuned them out. Chloe ran back to her seat, holding her phone up to record. Strum. Just one chord, and the atmosphere shifted from "party" to "battlefield." I didn't play a pop song. I played a flamenco-metal fusion piece. Fast, aggressive, percussive. It sounded like arrows flying and swords clashing. "Whoa," someone whispered. "I have goosebumps."
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