The Only One

by Magan Vernon

  “Uh, no, I don’t think so.” Monica yanked me forward until John Boy let go of me.

  “I’m fine, really, my apartment isn’t that far.”

  “Which is why me and Trey can walk you.”

  John Boy leaned in over my shoulder. “I can walk her home when she needs it.”

  “Watch it, loincloth, I’m not afraid to spork your eyes out.”

  “Hey, let’s be reasonable here,” Trey spoke up. “I’m sure Melanie would be perfectly fine with having John Boy take her home.”

  Monica whipped her head in Trey’s direction. “Are you serious right now? I am NOT just leaving my friend at a party.”

  “She’ll be fine. He’s not going to do anything to her.”

  Before Monica and Trey could continue their argument I groaned and yelled over them. “I’m right here, you don’t need to talk about me like I’m not.”

  They both snapped their attention to me. “Sorry, Mel,” Monica grumbled.

  I sighed. “And I’m ready to go.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at John Boy. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, grazing my knuckles. “I wish you’d stay, Red, but I understand if you have to leave.”

  Locking my eyes with his, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to trace the lines of his tattoos and get tangled in his sheets. But that wasn’t what a girl like me did. That’s why I didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t just jump in bed with random guys, no matter how hot they were.

  “I do, though.” I peeled my hand away. “Goodbye, John.”

  Chapter 2

  I should have kept a closer eye on the time because only four hours after I left the party I had to be at work. I groaned when I heard the ringing of my alarm clock and begged for it to be the wrong time.

  No such luck.

  My curtains were closed, but I could still make out the slight morning light. At least I was a student manager in a coffee shop, so I could just caffeinate myself up and get a nap in at noon.

  I swung my legs over the bed and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. The top I was wearing fell down to my legs and that’s when I remembered that I fell asleep wearing John Boy’s shirt. It even still smelled like him. Yes, he might have been sweaty that night, but his cologne was amazing. It wasn’t overpowering like the expensive stuff Trey wore, but a light scent, like fresh cotton.

  That was the moment I realized I was sniffing his shirt and felt like an idiot. I tore off the shirt and walked the few feet through my tiny living room to my bathroom, throwing it in the hamper. Better to wash the shirt and give it back to him right away. Monica would probably be asking for it soon anyway. By the way she was acting I could tell she didn’t think too highly of the guy, even though I was pretty sure he was Trey’s fraternity big brother.

  There were still remnants of the red drink that had dried into a sticky goo on my stomach and I needed a long scrub. I showered, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, put on some makeup, and went back out into the living room. I couldn’t have shared my box of a studio apartment with a roommate. It only took about ten steps to get from the bathroom to my closet and I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me naked. But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone in my apartment. Someone who looked very good in just a loincloth.

  I shook the thoughts out of my head as I slipped my regulation uniform red polo over my head. I couldn’t keep thinking about John Boy. He wasn’t the type of guy that dated girls like me. He was the guy that wanted one thing. Not that it would have been a bad thing, either. My high school boyfriend and I tried to work it out our freshman year of college, but I preferred to stay faithful and he preferred to screw other girls. I’d been single since I caught him cheating when I went to visit him at his school. I’d met a string of guys in some of my English classes, but nothing did it for me like John Boy did on the dance floor. Maybe all I needed was to just screw him and get it over with. That wasn’t my usual M.O., but maybe it was time for something new.

  No, no, no. Monica would kill me. Or maybe she wouldn’t have to know.

  * * *

  Brewster’s Beans was located on the first floor of the student center. It was decorated in red and black to match the school colors. Hardly anyone came in on Sunday mornings so I always found myself rearranging coffee bags and counting the floor tiles.

  I was the only person working until ten when Monica came in, so I brought some homework to work on after I started all the drip coffees. I was just finishing a chapter of my history textbook when I heard footsteps on the floor near me.

  Quickly, I shoved my book underneath the counter and looked up to meet a lazy grin and bright blue eyes. John Boy. He was wearing a blue t-shirt with red AM letters across his very broad chest. His biceps were busting out of his shirt and I couldn’t help letting my gaze trail to the tattoos on them. I really wanted to get a better look, but wasn’t sure how exactly to ask a guy to take his shirt off in a public place. Though this was the guy who wore a loincloth to a party, so he probably would have been up for it.

  “I thought I remembered you worked here with the Lib.” He sauntered closer, leaning against the pastry case.

  “Yeah...yeah I do.” My cheeks grew hot. I probably looked like crap from my lack of sleep and the fact that I ran out of foundation. And even with little sleep the Greek God was standing in front of me looking—and smelling—fresher than ever.

  “Well that’s good, because I was really craving a donut.” He leaned in closer. “Maybe you can help me out with one?”

  “I, uh, yeah, I can totally get you a donut.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the donuts in the pastry case or making a reference to his ‘smile like a donut’ shirt. Either way, I thought I’d play along.

  “Or I can get you one.” His fingers trailed the bare skin on my arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  I gasped and jumped back when I heard Monica’s voice behind me.

  “Hey Mon,” I said and looked back at her. Her eyes were locked on John Boy, her eyebrows slightly raised.

  “Good morning, Lib, pleasure seeing you here.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Are you meeting Trey?”

  John Boy shook his head with a small smile on his face. “No, just thought I’d see if I could get a donut.”

  “I hope you’re talking about the kind in the pastry case,” Monica said.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not.” He shot a wink in my direction. “I guess I’ll just take a rain check on that donut, Red.”

  With that, he pushed off the counter and walked out the side door. Monica followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight.

  Monica blinked, looking at me like I had something weird on my face. “Um, what was that about?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. He just came in all flirty. He’d never actually done that before the party. I wonder if he even knew I existed.”

  Monica smiled, adjusting her baseball cap with ‘Student Dining Services’ embroidered across it. “Maybe that Hermione costume really does have some magic on it.”

  “You leave my costume out of this.” Monica didn’t understand my Harry Potter obsession. Okay, maybe not an obsession. It was something I tried to hide from the other English majors, but really there was nothing better than a good book with action and magic.

  “Wasn’t there some guy in one of your Lit classes you were interested in, anyway?” She asked, quickly changing the subject off John Boy and my costume.

  “You mean Walt?”

  “Yeah. Was he the one that was really into Kerouac and smoked those black cigarettes?”

  Walt Hines was the epitome of an English major. He always carried around a worn out copy of Slaughterhouse-Five and wore hipster glasses with his girl jeans. I thought he was the type of guy I wanted to be with, until I actually hung out with him. He spent the night scrutinizing every book I’d e
ver read and told me Harry Potter wasn’t real literature. Once a guy slams down the Weasleys, it’s over.

  “That would be Walt, but nothing ever happened there and nothing is happening with John Boy. He just came in to say hi.”

  Monica leaned on the counter. “John Boy never just says ‘hi’ to girls unless it’s followed by ‘wanna screw?’”

  I said a silent prayer of thanks when a group of students came in and lined up for coffee. That got Monica to stop talking John Boy and get back to work, but that didn’t mean it got me to stop thinking about him or his biceps.

  Chapter 3

  Midterms were approaching, which meant a lot more homework and a lot more people showing up for classes.

  On Mondays I worked in the morning and then headed to American Religious History. It was across the quad from the student center where Brewster’s was located, in the art building that looked like a giant juicer.

  It was a decent sized lecture hall, shaped in a half-circle with five rows of desks descending to a lower level where the professor’s podium was located. There was a giant screen behind that where he put up all the lecture slides.

  I slumped down in an open desk near the back and searched through my bag for a notebook. Most everyone on campus just carried their laptops or iPads so they could play games while the professor lectured, but I still preferred the old pen and paper way. There was something about the feeling of putting pen to paper that I found invigorating. It was probably why I was an English major. I loved writing long hand. I had old journals full of half ass story ideas and notes from classes sitting in boxes back at my mom’s house.

  Digging through my bag, I finally found a pen, but just as I grabbed it and put it on my desk it promptly rolled onto the floor.

  “Shit,” I mumbled.

  I scrambled out of my desk when the pen stopped at a pair of Pumas. “Sorry!” I yelped and reached for the pen.

  “No prob, Red.”

  I grabbed my pen and when I stood up I met the endless blue pools of John Boy’s eyes. I’d never noticed him in my class before, but then again usually I was busy staring down at my notebook trying to take down notes.

  “Hey, John.” I tried to regain my composure and sat in my seat. He took the one next to me, a small smile on his face. He pulled a slim Mac book out of his bag and sat it on the desk in front of him.

  Out of all my classes, why did he have to be in the one I looked like crap for? There he was, looking gorgeous in a gray knit sweater and faded jeans that fit every bit of his form perfectly. The guy had to be literally all muscle. And I had seen a lot of him when he was wearing just the loincloth. I found myself thinking about what was under his clothes and my face heated up from the thought.

  “So you’re going to call me John now?” He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head down, which just brought out the slight dimple on his chin. God he was too damn attractive.

  “Um, well that’s your name, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but most people call me John Boy.”

  “And why is that?” I tapped my pen on my notebook, trying to figure out something to do with my hands.

  He let out a single laugh. “Just a nickname my pledge brothers gave me freshman year. When your name is John Walden, and it sounds similar enough to Walton, it just sort of happens.”

  “As in John Boy from the Waltons? The TV show?” I didn’t think anyone under the age of seventy actually knew about that show. I only knew about it because my grandma was obsessed with it.

  “It’s basic pop culture. I know you probably think we’re a bunch of dumb jocks who run around with paddles, but we at least know about Walton mountain.”

  I swallowed, trying to figure out the right words so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  He nudged my arm with his. “I’m just shitting you. Don’t take life so seriously. You could really stand to loosen up.”

  “Sorry. I’m not brave enough to walk around a party in a loincloth.”

  He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my ear. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind it if you did. Or just my bedroom”

  Every hair stood on end and my body heated up like I took a hair dryer to my skin. The guy certainly knew the right spot to hit. He was definitely trouble. But maybe a good kind of trouble.

  “So, um, I’ve never seen you in this class before.” I tried to regain my composure and sat up straighter.

  “Been here all year, but usually I sit in the back. I couldn’t help but notice this head of gorgeous curly hair that’s always near the front taking notes.” His fingers coiled around a strand of my hair that had fallen out of my ponytail and he pushed it behind my ear. “I’m just usually too late to get the seat next to you.”

  “Oh, um, heh...” I couldn’t think of anything to say and just felt like a blubbering idiot.

  Thank God I was saved by Professor Marks stumbling into class with two of his grad students behind him. He dusted off his sweater vest and raked his fingers through his mop of gray hair. Our professor may have been one of the goofiest guys, but I liked him. He sounded like Woody Allen when he talked and made the Mennonite migration actually interesting.

  “Sorry fellow historians, I know I’m late again and you’re all just dying to get on to the next American religious movement.” He stepped up to his desk and logged onto the computer, his desktop background popping up on the giant screen behind him.

  “Have you started your paper yet?” John whispered.

  “Yeah, I’ve done a little bit of research. What about you?” I kept my eyes on the professor as he pulled up the power point presentation for fear if I moved I would just end up staring at John. Or end up with my lips on his. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if we weren’t in class.

  “Finished it up the other night. Nothing better than Mormon culture in Missouri.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. His voice didn’t raise with sarcasm, it just kept the same even tone. “Overachiever,” I whispered.

  “I like to get things done.”

  I tried to focus on the professor but I couldn’t help paying attention to every move that John made. It was probably a good thing I didn’t know he was in this class before or I would have never been able to concentrate. Every time his fingers touched the keyboard I found myself watching how his hands moved and thinking about how those same hands were on my hips just a few nights before and what other parts of him were pressed against me.

  I was expecting him to be one of the guys that would just play games or check his Facebook, but he really was paying attention. Maybe he wasn’t the dumb jock I pegged him as.

  By the time class was over I had barely taken any notes and was hoping there wasn’t something big I missed. I gathered up my stuff and put it in my bag, ready to walk out of class, but then John put his hand on my lower back. I glanced up to meet his pearly white smile. How was I supposed to stay away from the guy that made me melt just from a little smile?

  “Where you headed, Red?”

  “I have World Literature over in Brown, you?”

  He kept his hand on my lower back as we headed down the row and out of the classroom. My whole body was acutely aware of his fingers and I had a feeling every other girl was aware of it as well. A few whispers came from some of the girls that we passed walking through the classroom and out the doors into the November air. I didn’t even want to guess what they were saying, but from the glimpses of snarled upper lips I didn’t think it was anything good.

  “I’ve got Algorithms and Data structure over in Ike.”

  “Say what?” I looked up at him.

  He tilted his head back, laughing softly. “It’s a computer class. I’m a computer science major.”

  “Seriously?” I widened my eyes. He had to be messing with me. A guy with a body like his had to be some sort of kinesiology major or something. I’d seen a lot of the computer science majors and they were the type of guys that lived for online ga
ming, not fine specimens like John Walden.

  “Man, you don’t give me any credit. Yeah, I’m really a computer science major. Does that surprise you?”

  “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t think that was your type of thing.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to my ear. “And a lot I’d love to show you.” His tongue grazed the very edge of my jaw line, sending a shiver of pleasure all the way down to my toes.

  “John Boy!”

  John snapped his head up and I gasped when I saw two buxom blondes in Kappa Beta shirts sauntering in his direction. Just what I wanted to see. Ugh. I had nothing against sorority girls. In fact, Monica was a Kappa Beta at her old school and my sister was a Sigma. But there was just something about the way these two girls puffed their chests out and smiled at John that made my blood boil.

  “Hey Layla, Hey Lex.” He nodded in their direction and still kept his hand on my back. Good. Showed them that I wasn’t just another random girl. Even though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was. “Do you all know Melanie? She’s Trey’s girlfriend’s friend.”

  The curlier of the blondes slowly moved her gaze in my direction, blinking hard. “Oh, yeah. You work at Brewster’s, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah I do.” I nodded, unsure what I was supposed to say.

  She turned her attention back to John and scooted closer to him, running her manicured fingers down his arm like I wasn’t even there. “So, did you and Gabe talk about the mixer for Friday night? We’d love to do an exchange with our Alpha boys.”

  I felt like that was my cue to leave and I slowly tried to slip away, but then John’s hand slinked around my waist, pulling me against him. Even while his eyes were on the girl, I felt that his attention was focused on me. “Yeah. I’ll have Gabe text you or something.” He squeezed my side. “See you, Layla.”

  He turned me in the other direction and started walking away from the two blondes, who had to be gaping at me. “Trying to get away from me, Red?”

  “I just need to get to class and you were talking...”