Beware of Love in Technicolor (14 page)

“I want to go home,” I said. “I want you to take me home.”

“No problem,” he said, taking my hand. I was trembling, and I knew that he knew that, but he turned his attention to Mike instead, who was still sitting on the cold ground of the woods.

“Dude,” he said to Mike in a voice and tone I didn’t think him capable of. Gone was the sunny demeanor. “If you ever even look at Greer again, your next time in the woods won’t be so pleasant. That’s a promise.”

***

“You ok?” Topher finally asked me quietly as we stepped out from the woods and back onto the familiar pavement of the road in front of Holt Hall. We had walked the rest of the path in silence, him holding my hand tight, me trying to rationalize in my head the results of my behavior.

“Yeah,” I said, still reeling from the excitement a bit. I never expected Topher to have to step in and be my hero. “Yeah, fine. I mean, thank you. Thank you for being there.”

“You’re really drunk,” he said. “Mike was really drunk. Plus, he’s kind of a douchebag, so I thought you might need some help with him.”

“You could have told me what a douchebag he is beforehand.”

“I did. You didn’t listen to me.”

“Sounds about right, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’ll listen to you from now on,” I told him.

“No, you won’t,” he continued.

“What’s that?” I asked. I had been distracted as w
e walked up the hill past Holt, counting windows for John’s room to see if his light was on. It was. I sighed.

“Not important,” Topher said. “C’mon, I’ll walk you up to your door. You need to get yourself to bed. You’ve got one hell of a hangover waiting for you tomorrow morning.”

***

Back in the safety of The Pit, I realized I was still pretty drunk. I stumbled into my room, waking Molly from a sound sleep. It was somewhere near two in the morning.

“Greer? You ok?” Molly asked groggily.

“Shhh...” I whispered loudly. “I’m sorry,” I began giggling.

“What’s going on? Where’ve you been? You smell like a brewery.” She snapped her desk light on, making me cringe like a vampire. I was trying to kick my boots off, but ended up falling on my ass on the black floor.

“You’ll never guess how many boys I kissed tonight,” I giggled, leaning against the side of my desk. She started giggling with me, and propped herself up in bed.

“Three!” I called out, holding up four fingers. She laughed even harder.

I was too lazy to try and stand, so I crawled to my bed, and pulled myself up on top of it. I lay on my back, with my head at the bottom, my feet resting on my pillows.

“Does this mean you are over John?” she asked hopefully.

“Believe it or not, it makes me want him even more,” I said, with more sadness in my voice than I was expecting. I wondered if he had his arms around her. If he was kissing her. If he was inside her.

“I slept with him last night,” I told Molly. “For the first time. My first time.”

She was quiet for
moment. I thought she had fallen back to sleep.

“Was it worth it?” she asked finally.

“I’m not sure yet,” I answered.

***

Molly did not remain awake for much longer. She was not exactly a night person. Though you’d think I would have passed out, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my life. The control I had felt so strongly only hours ago was gone in the absence of outside admirers, and I felt empty. I thought about being pushed around in the woods like a rag doll, and what my night might have turned into had Topher not shown up. I wondered if he was going to tell John about it.

I looked at the clock. 3:15 am. I was in no danger of falling asleep. Wrapping my comforter around myself, I grabbed my journal and a pen, and quietly shuffled out the door, down the hallway, and out to my favorite spot on the steps of Wyndham, facing away from campus.

As I sat in the cold, my numb fingers gripping the pen tightly, writing furiously about the evening’s escapades, I failed to notice I was no longer alone.

“Any room up there for another lost soul?” John’s voice asked me in the thin, crisp air.

I looked up suddenly, and closed my journal. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of me, his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket. Even though it was against my better judgment, I smiled at him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said. He sat down next to me. We sat in silence for a minute or two.

“What happened?” I finally asked. “Where is she?”

“Gone,” he said. “She took the last bus back to Boston, at midnight.”

“I wish I could say I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him. “But I’d be lying.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me the black panties I had left behind in his room.

“I believe these are yours,” he said.

“Oops,” I gave a small laugh.

“Yeah,” he said knowingly, elbowing me in the ribs. “Oops.”

“You want to tell me what happened?” I asked.  I was dying to know.

“You happened, my dear Miss Bennett. It seems you make more of an impression on people than you realize.”

“Stop being cryptic,” I told him. “What are you talking about?”

“I took Abby to a party at Ben’s room tonight, and at least four different guys wanted to know where you were.”

“And that pissed her off?”

“To say the least,” he answered. “The panties were the final straw.”

“Was that before or after you slept with her?” I wanted to ask. But I thought about my own behavior earlier in the night, and decided to leave well enough alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything I’ve put you through. I’m so sorry.”

He rested his head on my shoulder.

“I’m ready to follow you to the ends of the earth,” he continued. “If you’ll let me.”

“Well,” I said slowly, wrapping half my blanket around his shoulders. “It’s about goddamned time.”

Part Two

Chapter Six

             
The Female Orgasm. The Big O. That elusive, reclusive Loch Ness of the labia. Does it prove the existence of God, or just His twisted sense of humor?

             
At nineteen, and in the throes of my first love affair, the mind games came natural. The orgasms did not. After a particular sweaty encounter in the middle of the afternoon, John finally said something.

             
“Is there something I’m not doing?” he asked, his forehead glistening, his tone urgent. The look on his face was serious, which sent my heart fluttering. I was just getting comfortable having sex, and now he wanted me to talk about it?

             
“No?” I said with uncertainty. It was more of a question than an answer.

             
“You just don’t seem able to, uh,” he stammered for the right word. “...finish.”

             
I searched my mind for something to make sense. I was expected to produce something during all that? I was here, wasn’t I? I was naked and sweaty, and he had obviously enjoyed himself. His ego needed more?

             
“I’m sorry,” he said, showering my shoulders and breasts with kisses. He must have seen the mortified look on my face. “I forget that all this is still so new to you. We’ll take our time.”

“I’m certainly willing to practice,” I said, trying to take the glaring spotlight off my inadequacies. I could not help but think back to the standing ovation his previous lay had been awarded.

              Don’t get me wrong; I was enjoying myself immensely. But thinking back, it wasn’t the sex, per se, that I was enjoying. What I was enjoying was the simple fact that the potential for sex makes men hang around more. He was attentive; he was affectionate. He told me over and over how beautiful and desirable and sexy I was. It seemed like a fair trade.

             
The naked part? That had to get better, right?

***

              My first semester at college was almost over. John and I were a couple. There was an understanding between us that we were exclusive. As it turns out, he was never any good at being the single, carefree guy he had dreamed of being.

             
Finals came. As an English major, I had only two exams. My writing classes required portfolios of a semester’s worth of work, which was far preferable to me than studying for some test. By late December I was so behind in my computer programming class that I didn’t even show up for the final exam. Even a perfect program could not lift my dying average, so I cut my losses, and chose to wait for report cards before coming up with  good rationalization for why I had tanked so spectacularly. French was French. I knew about enough I’d ever need for my favorite fantasy, a future bicycle tour through wine country. I didn’t study for the exam, choosing instead to go Christmas shopping with John. I passed the final, but just barely. My writing classes were the only lift to my sinking career GPA.

             
I was finished days before John. It was still more than a week before Christmas, and we were not scheduled to be back at school until the last week of January. The thought of not seeing him every day had me dreading the break; back when I thought five weeks was an eternity.

***

              The first night back at home for the holidays, I invited Penny over to shoot some pool. We had not spoken since the day after Thanksgiving.

             
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch,” I told her as I racked up the balls. “Everything is still so new, and honestly, I don’t have anyone to share all the stuff that happens with John.” I chalked my stick. “As much fun as I’m having with him, I haven’t met a single girl I can really relate to.”

             
“You do talk about him a lot,” she said. She was leaning over the table, planning her strategy. She looked up at me with a shit-eating grin on her face. Her dark eyes went serious. “But I was the bitch. I should have been excited for you, and instead I was just jealous.”

             
“How is everything going now?” I asked.

             
“It’s going.” She broke, scattering the balls across the table with a loud crack. “Jordan and I are starting to really get along.”

             
“Which roommate is that again?” I was still waiting for my turn.

             
“The one from Pennsylvania. We think that if we try hard enough, we can get Yvonne to move out by Spring Break. Damnit!” She missed her shot, which should have been an easy sinker in he left corner.

             
“Ha! You’re out of practice!” I teased. She was the only person who could routinely beat me at the game. Well, Penny and my dad. I lined up my shot.

             
“Why do you want her out? What’s her damage?” I sunk the six in the middle pocket, and stopped to plan my next move.

             
“She’s pledging a sorority, and is completely unbearable. Did you ever think of pledging?”

             
“No, I figure I already like my personality, and really don’t need a new one,” I answered.

             
“I’ll have to say that next time she tries to recruit me,” she laughed.

             
I surveyed the table. “All I’ve got is crap,” I mumbled. I missed my shot, and surrendered the table back to Penny. “You want a beer?” I asked, out of the blue. I was surprised to hear it come out of my mouth. She stopped and looked up.

             
“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

***

              “Have you had sex yet?” Penny asked me.

             
We were each sprawled across a nougahyde sofa. There were five empty Sam Adams bottles between us. I had kicked off my boots, and noticed that I was wearing one blue sock, and one black sock.

             
“Yeah,” I replied slowly, still staring at my feet.

             
“What’s it like?”

             
“Well, it’s definitely not as gross as we used to think it would be,” I laughed.

             
“But what’s it like?” she persisted.

             
I sat up, understanding what she was getting at. The room spun a bit, and I had to hold onto the sofa to keep from falling off.