by Ellie Wade
He points toward the room he just exited. “There’s a new toothbrush under the sink. You’re welcome to it,” he says through a mouthful of toothpaste suds before shooting me a wink and leaving the bedroom.
I fall back against the pillow, covering my eyes with the back of my wrist.
What the hell?
I let out a chuckle. This is so not how I saw my first weekend here going.
Deciding I’d better get dressed before Landon comes back, I climb out of bed, grabbing the clothes he gave me, and scurry toward the bathroom.
I gasp when I see my reflection in the mirror. My mascara has created a nice black halo around my eyes with streaks of black haphazardly streaked down my cheeks.
Invest in some waterproof mascara, Amy … seriously.
I scrub my face clean. I grab a comb and attempt to tame my just-been-banged bedhead into submission. Remembering the hair tie on my wrist, I opt to twist my mop of hair up into a messy bun. I gladly brush away the tastes of last night from my mouth, replacing them with mint. There’s a twinge of regret in my heart as I erase all signs of Landon because I honestly don’t know if I’ll have him that way again.
Do I even want him that way?
After last night, how could I not? It wasn’t a one-night stand or a drunken mistake. It was real and special and long overdue.
I’ve loved him my whole life—not in a romantic way, but deeply. He’s always been important to me. I know everything about him. I’ve seen him change from a boy to a man. He’s a great person. Our families are close. I mean, we were raised together. So, this makes sense.
Right?
But what if he doesn’t want me?
Landon isn’t a relationship kind of guy. I’ve always known that about him. Why would he change that now?
I quickly finish rolling up the waist of the gym shorts in an attempt to keep them from falling down. I’m never going to find the answers while stalling in here. Pulling in a steady breath, I exit the bathroom.
Landon sits on his bed, his fingers typing away on the screen of his phone. He looks up. “You ready?” He smiles.
“Yeah.”
“Here”—he hands me some pink flip-flops—“you can borrow these. My roommate, Tom’s, sister left them here.”
“Thanks,” I say with relief, taking them from him, so glad I don’t have to wear the horrible heels I came here in.
We head out and start walking toward campus.
“So, what classes do you have this semester?” Landon asks.
I tell him, and our conversation continues. We talk of professors, homework loads, and the best routes to get to the different buildings. Most of the classes I’m taking this semester are general studies classes that everyone takes. Landon has had some of the same professors and gives me tips about them.
I follow the direction of the conversation all the way through breakfast. When we tire of talking about school, we talk of home. There’s a giant white elephant sitting beside us throughout breakfast, but we both ignore it. At least, for now.
After we’ve finished eating, Landon walks me to my dorm room.
Before I enter, I turn toward him. “Well, thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime.”
“So …” I pause. This is my chance to bring up our situation. I need to know, but I chicken out. “I guess I’ll see ya around?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he answers with a smile.
“Okay.” I grin back, waiting. Hoping. I turn to open my door.
“Amy?”
“Yeah?” I turn around entirely too quickly.
He absentmindedly bites the side of his lip. “I just want you to know that last night was great.”
“It was.” I nod in agreement.
“You were … I mean, are amazing.” He looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.
“Thank you.” I cringe. Thank you? “You’re amazing, too.” I raise my chin and stand tall.
“Do you want to do something this week?” he asks.
“Yes, that’d be great.” I nod.
“Okay, I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good.”
Just when I think he’s going to walk away. he takes my face in his hands, closes the gap between us, and presses his lips against mine.
The kiss isn’t long. It isn’t deep. It doesn’t reveal everything, but it answers the questions my heart’s been afraid to ask.
I’m not sure where last night is going to take us. But, as I close the door, I know that we’re heading toward the possibility of more. And, for now, that’s enough.
Amy
I shut the door behind me and lean back against it with a sigh. My eyes flutter closed as images of last night swirl and dance behind them, and I smile.
“Hey!”
I open my eyes and scream, startled.
A guy I’ve never seen before is standing in front of me, mere inches from my face, with a cheesy grin. “Whatcha thinking about?” he questions.
“Go home, Ross.” Megan strolls out of her bedroom in nothing but a loose T-shirt. Her mascara mirrors mine from earlier. I’m not the only one who woke up, looking like a rabid raccoon.
“All right. Bye, babe. I’ll call you,” Ross says to Megan.
I step away from the door. He lingers, his eyes sliding to my feet and slithering up my body to my makeup-free face and messy bun. He shoots me a creepy wink before leaving.
After he’s gone, Megan says, “Do you think he’ll call?”
“Do you want him to call?” I answer with a smirk.
She shrugs. “Eh.” Eyeing my ensemble, she squints her eyes. “Looks like you had some fun, too. Where’s my outfit?”
“Oh, I forgot it. We went out to breakfast. I’ll grab it next time I see him.”
She waves her hand through the air. “No worries. So, we both had an eventful first Saturday night of college, huh?”
“I guess we did.” I chuckle with a shake of my head.
“Landon?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Like, your-friend-from-home Landon?”
“The one and only.”
“Did you see that coming?” she asks.
“Not in the slightest,” I admit.
“Well, I’m not surprised. He’s hot.”
I nod. “I’m realizing that.”
“Do you think he’ll call?” she questions.
“Gosh, I’m hoping so, or family functions back home are going to be very awkward.” A wave of exhaustion hits me. “I think I’m going to take a nap and then unpack. Want to grab dinner later?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Megan agrees before we retreat to our rooms.
I plop down on the bed. The moment my head hits the pillow, I feel sleep pulling me under.
Throwing my backpack strap over my shoulder, I hurry toward the door, not wanting to be late for class.
“Where are you heading?” Joey, Megan’s newest one-night stand, asks me.
“The psych building,” I answer him.
“Bummer. Opposite direction of me.”
“Bummer,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes.
I’m sure Joey is a nice enough guy, but I don’t have time to deal with Megan’s guys when I’m so preoccupied with my own.
Joey and I exit the dormitory together and part ways. I check the screen of my phone one more time for good measure before I sigh and switch it to silent.
Nothing.
It’s Wednesday morning, and I haven’t heard from Landon since he dropped me off at my dorm room Sunday afternoon.
I throw my phone in my backpack before entering the psych building. My anxiety rises with each step I take toward my class on the second floor. Normally, I’d call or text Landon myself without hesitation. But I had to go and sleep with my friend, and now, it’s all weird.
I bite my lip with a shake of my head as I think back to Saturday night. It was the most incredible night of my life.
It’s no secret that my list of conquests isn’t
long. In fact, before Landon, I was at a solid two. Two people. Two times. Yet, even with my limited experience, I know that what I experienced with Landon isn’t normal.
It’s like living a life of just drinking black coffee. True, a lifetime is a bit of an exaggeration. So, for me, it’d be like having two singular cups of black coffee and then trying a creamy French vanilla cappuccino. How can I go back to plain old coffee when I’ve had the best?
I need coffee.
I’m exhausted.
My brain has been on overdrive with thoughts of Landon these past three nights. I’ve been so preoccupied that I forgot to stop and get a cup on my way to class.
Deep down, I want to be disappointed in myself for venturing so far away from my college to-do list since sleeping with Landon wasn’t even close to the initial plan. But I don’t have it in me to regret the choice I made on Saturday. I can’t regret something that felt so right. Landon should have always been part of my plan. It just took me a while to figure it out.
I pause before I reach the lecture hall. I set my backpack on the ground before opening it to pull out my phone and check for a message from Landon, just one more time.
Pathetic.
Nothing.
I can’t help thinking, What if he doesn’t want me in that way? What if he’s come to clarity over the past couple of days and decided that it was a mistake? How do I go back to being just his buddy when I know how well our bodies fit together? I guess I just would. I’d have to.
I step into the lecture hall. It’s my second class of Psychology of Sex—and here I am, with nothing but sex on my mind.
I take a seat and pull out my notebook and pencil as students continue to file in. My sight is drawn to an extremely attractive guy as he enters the lecture hall, putting my Landon pity party on hold. He’s like an Italian version of Chris Hemsworth, completely beautiful. His tan skin and sun-kissed auburn locks give the impression that this Adonis just stepped off of the beach. I bet he’d look good, bare-chested, holding a surfboard.
My new distraction struts across the room, and I internally gawk at him. Every second I stare is one I’m not agonizing over no new texts. Distractions are good. My heart hammers in my chest as he walks up to the row I’m sitting in until he is standing in front of the empty seat next to me.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks in a voice that’s an octave higher than I originally imagined it’d be, but it’s sexy nonetheless.
I shake my head.
He sits down beside me and pulls out a pen and a notebook. I drop my gaze to the red notebook on his desk that reads, Sebastian Clearly.
He notices.
He leans over to me and whispers, “Hey, I’m Sebastian, but you can call me Bass.”
“You can call me Amy or whatever.” My voice squeaks.
His caramel eyes shine with amusement, and I want to slither down into my seat and disappear.
Professor Owens starts her lecture.
After a few minutes, Bass points to a guy sitting a few rows down from us and whispers, “Mine or yours?”
I look to him in question, and he repeats more slowly, “Mine or yours?”
I blink and can almost see the hormone-induced haze that has been clouding my vision slink to the ground. I look Bass in the eyes, and suddenly, I’m seeing him in a completely different light. I feel silly for the way I acted just moments ago—all breathy and girlie.
“Oh, um …” I turn my attention to the guy he’s talking about and take him in.
He’s cute, baseball hat backward, strong jaw.
Gosh, I don’t know. I don’t have a radar for these things.
I watch as his eyes drop to the cleavage of the girl sitting next to him when she drops her pencil.
Just as I say, “Mine,” Bass says, “Damn, yours.”
We start to chuckle under our breath.
“It never fails,” he whispers. “All the hot ones love the boobs.”
“I’m assuming you don’t.” I grin.
“Aw, are you calling me a hottie, Amy?”
“Eh, you’re all right.” I shrug, shooting him a wink.
Bass and I play a few more rounds of Mine or Yours in between note-taking. I’ve never had so much fun in a lecture before. The entire hour passes without me checking my phone.
We walk out of the hall together after class.
“I like her,” Bass says, referencing our professor.
“Yeah, me, too. This is going to be a fun class.”
We go over our schedules, and Bass walks with me since both of our next classes are in the same direction.
I pull out my phone.
“You’re checking that like you’re waiting for someone to text.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“A boy?”
I sigh, “Yep.”
“Ooh, sounds interesting,” he quips, his voice excited.
“It’s a little scandalous—for me at least.”
We reach the building where my next class is held.
“I want to hear all about it in class on Friday,” he tells me.
“Okay, sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll see you Friday, Amy. You know the time and place.”
“Bye, Bass.” I smile, lifting my hand to wave as I walk toward my next class.
I’m really hoping I have some good news for Bass in regard to Landon come Friday. Either way though, I’m looking forward to seeing Sebastian again.
Landon
Ms. Jones, my International Business professor, is talking, but I’m not hearing a word of it. She’s been chattering for thirty minutes, and all I’ve registered is something about two black cats. Amid my brooding, I noticed a slide of the cats on the large screen at the front of the room, and it was odd enough to grab me for a second. But then the black felines were replaced by a vision of Amy in my mind, and I didn’t care enough to focus back up front. So, I suppose I’ll never know how those creatures play a part in the business world.
The first several days of classes have been shit. I’ve been useless—going through the motions without being truly present. I’m distracted and confused. I can’t shake her.
All I see is her.
I can almost feel her long auburn hair, so soft and thick. I recall the way it felt as I threaded my fingers through it. Holding her against me as my mouth explored hers.
Everything about her mouth is perfection, her plump lips and perfect smile both equally enticing. She drove me insane with those lips, and her smile made my chest tighten.
I’ve always thought she was beautiful. I’ve admired her, just like any other attractive person I’ve met. In my head, I’ve recognized how incredibly gorgeous she is. I’ve loved Amy like a sister my whole life. She’s a kick-ass person. But I probably shouldn’t think of her like family anymore.
Thinking of her chocolate-brown doe eyes and her curves in all the right places is almost painful. I’m not quite sure what to do.
I’m not one for long-term relationships. Some previous hook-ups might have referred to me as a man-whore. I couldn’t care less. I do well enough in school to graduate and get a good job. I want a good life. I know that much, and having nice shit requires money. But I don’t need to be the best, much to my father’s disappointment. I know he’s happy that he has another son to dictate to because it won’t be me.
I’m the guy who likes to kid around and have fun. I simply need to show up and pass my classes. Other than that, I party and have a great time.
The bottom line is that Amy isn’t a girl I can fuck and forget. And the odd thing is that I don’t want to. She’s different. I have a deep admiration and respect for her that would never allow me to sleep with her without looking back. For the first time in my life, I want to look back and explore possibilities for the future. I feel I owe that not only to Amy, but also to myself. I’ve never entertained the possibility of more, and she makes me want to.
Perhaps I should’ve stopped everything Saturday night, starti
ng with the first kiss that made everything else that followed inevitable. Yet, the second I saw Amy differently, it was over. The moment that I no longer saw her as a family friend, a kid sister, I fell. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I’d wanted to.
In all honesty, I’m scared. I don’t want to ever hurt Amy, and considering I’ve never attempted a real relationship, chances are high that I will. This is the part that has me torn. I could tell Amy that it’d be best to chalk Saturday night off as a wild night of abandonment between friends and to move on. This might hurt her some, but is it best for her in the long run? We could then continue as we always had.
That option feels weak, like a lie.
The other route is to talk to Amy and figure out how she feels about dating—as in a legitimate, monogamous relationship. It’s definitely a gamble, and it could get messy.
Amy’s worth the risk. If anyone in this life is worth betting on, it’s her.
I’m all in.
That realization lifts a huge weight off of my chest.
“Excuse me?” A voice pulls me from my thoughts. Ms. Jones is standing before me. She and I are the only two left in the classroom. “Do you need help with something?” she asks, her voice kind.
“Uh, no. Just heading out.” I throw my blank notebook and unused pencil into my bag and stand to leave. “Thanks for class and, um … cute cats,” I say hurriedly before turning to leave.
Cute cats? I shrug. Well, it was all I had to go on.
Once I’m outside, I pull my phone out from my pocket and text Amy.
Hey, Ames. You busy tonight?
The oval with the three little dots on our message thread is present, and I anxiously wait for her response.
Nope. I’m done for the day. What are ya thinking?
Takeout and a movie?
Sounds good.
My place?
Yes, please. My roommate’s being weird. I could use a break.
Already? LOL. It hasn’t even been a week. You’re in for a long year.
Tell me about it. What time do you want me to come over tonight?
How about I swing by and get you now? I’m on my way back from class anyway.
I second-guess the text as soon as I send it. It sounds needy. I’m not needy.