Just Visiting

by Dahlia Adler

  I shrug, then slide it on. It smells like grass and earth and men’s deodorant. I’m sorry I put it on the instant its soft warmth envelops me, because I know I’ll never want to give it back, and I’ll have to part with it eventually. “Any idea where they are?”

  He doesn’t respond, so I glance up and see he’s looking down at me, not at my face or even my barely there boobs, but at where my curled-up fists are stuffed into the pockets, unconsciously pushing them out and around with my hands as if I’m trying to make his sweatshirt dance. “Sorry,” I mumble, stilling and slipping my hands out of the pockets. “I didn’t mean to stretch it out.”

  “What?” He blinks hard. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that. It’s an old sweatshirt. Do whatever.”

  “Okay.” Hands return to pockets. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reveal any of those blinding white teeth. “You wanna take a walk or something?”

  With every muscle in my body. But only a few are required to nod, and I use them, and off we go.

  VICTORIA

  I am never wearing heels again. Or drinking. Yup, I am totally done doing those things. Done. No more Jell-O shots or body shots or faux drinks that Jamie turns into real drinks…just done. And heels! Ugh! Why did I ever think I wanted to wear these things? They’re torture chambers for the feet! Reagan’s got the right idea, with those sneakers I used to wear when I was, like, five. Why would I—oh, right, these make my legs look really good.

  “Are you seriously staring at yourself in the mirror right now?” The lumpy blanket-covered mass I’m pretty sure contains my best friend in there somewhere shifts on the creaky motel bed. “Go to sleep, Tori.”

  “Man, you are cranky tonight.” I slip off the shoes and it feels so good I let out a groan that I’m sure excites the guests on the other side of the thin walls. “I thought you’d have a great time, left alone with loverboy.”

  “He’s not my loverboy.” It comes out as an irritated grunt, muffled by the thin, dirt-covered blanket, but even three sheets to the wind I can tell there’s something behind it.

  “Is that or isn’t that his sweatshirt you came home wearing? Giving a girl your sweatshirt is, like, first base.”

  “Actually, making out is first base, if we’re going to be sixth graders again, and that didn’t happen.”

  I whirl around to face the blanket lump. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  The blanket lump moves from side to side in a miserable shake of the head that might be the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “What a loser!” Even I wince at the volume of my voice, but I recover quickly and limp over to the bed on blistered feet, plopping down next to Reagan and feeling an ill-advised cup of beer slosh around in my stomach. “No move at all?”

  Another sad shake.

  “Unacceptable!” I jump up again, and almost hurl all over my hot-pink toes. “Miss Forrester, we are getting to the bottom of this.”

  She finally peeks out from under the covers, her blond curls a mashed mess against the side of her face, her anime-character eyes narrowed. “Victoria, go to bed. You are drunk.”

  “Drunk like a fox!” I have no idea what that means, but I like the way it sounds, so I say it again. Then I get down on my hands and knees, ignoring the wave of nausea rolling through me, and find Reagan’s brown canvas bag thing.

  “What are you doing, you freak?”

  “What you should’ve done yourself tonight,” I say authoritatively, fishing her ancient cell phone out of its pocket. I can sense her arm grabbing out at me before it even leaves her side, and I may be drunk but she’s tangled in a mess of sheets and no match for me.

  “If you call Dev I swear I will never speak to you again. I mean it, Vic.”

  “Oh, you drama queen. Fine.” I toss her phone at her and reach into my own way cuter clutch—hand-stitched by yours truly out of this awesome ’70s-ish-print fabric—for my cell.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Not calling Dev.” I spin even further out of her reach as I search for Jamie’s number. I’d laughed at him for wanting to exchange digits last night, but now I’m grateful I have them, even though we spent the entire night purposefully ignoring each other. I find it and hit Send. It rings only once before he picks up.

  “Tori?”

  “Why didn’t Dev kiss Reagan?” I blurt out, jumping back as I ask because I know she’s gonna jump out of that bed and try to kick my butt. She proves me right, nearly falling on the floor in her rush to lunge at me while still tangled up in the sheets.

  “What?”

  “Victoria, I am going to kill you!”

  I hold up a hand in Reagan’s face to shush her and dash away again. “You heard me.”

  “I don’t know, because—” He breaks off, and I press my ear even closer to the phone to hear what’s happening on the other end.

  Reagan pauses in mid-swing of her arm. “What’s he—”

  I shove a hand in her face again to shut her up.

  Because just then, I hear Jamie turn away from the phone and say, “Shah, does Reagan not know about Sara?”

  My stomach hardens slowly into a ball of lead, and suddenly, I know I’m going to throw up. I throw the phone at the bed, run to the bathroom, and fall to my knees in front of the toilet, where I then continue to expel every color of the rainbow in liquid form. Reagan dashes in after me and grabs my hair, keeping her other hand on my back until I’m done. When it’s finally out of my system, and I fall back onto my butt on the cold tile floor, she says, “That bad, huh?”

  I nod weakly. “I’m sorry.”

  She disappears for a few seconds and returns with a bottle of water. “Do I want to know?” she asks as she unscrews it for me and hands it over.

  The water feels so good I drink a third of the bottle before pulling it away from my lips. “No, but you should.” I take one more quick sip, this one more to put off telling her than because I need it. “It sounded like girlfriend.”

  There’s a long silence, and then, flatly, “Girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend. Sara.”

  “Sara. Sara sucks.”

  “Sara does suck.”

  “Dev sucks too.”

  “No argument there.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry, Rae.”

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “Whatever. I should’ve known. Or something. Can we just go to bed?”

  “Yeah, for sure. Help me up?”

  She stands and pulls me to do the same, and we wash up and get into bed. I expect to have to make myself stay awake for a while to keep Reagan company, but in a matter of minutes, I hear light snoring drifting over from her bed; and just like that, I’m alone, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

  I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear the chime on my phone signaling that I have a text message. I try to remember where I left my phone, and then I remember that I tossed it onto the bed right before hurling. Did I even actually hang up on Jamie? It takes a few minutes of fumbling around in the sheets but finally my hand makes contact and I check the screen. Speak of the devil.

  Everything OK over there?

  I glance over at Rae. If she heard the phone, she didn’t stir. Fine, I write back, tapping angrily on the screen. He should’ve told her he had a girlfriend.

  As I’m waiting for his response, I realize that it’s not the only text message waiting for me. I’d completely forgotten to check my phone for the last few hours, and even when I’d called Jamie, I’d been too distracted to notice. I check the texts first. There are two. The first one reads, Hey, it’s Steve. Just saw my friend from Miss Lucy’s class and thought of you. Hope you guys are having fun. Seeing a text from Freckles is so unexpected and sweet I smile at the very sight of his name, even though I have no idea how to respond or if I even should.

  The other one is from a 913 area code, and says, Hey beautiful, it’s Mark. What are you up to 2nite? It makes me snort, and I immediately
clamp a hand over my mouth to avoid waking up Reagan.

  I think you have the wrong number, I type back, and I’m about to hit send when I suddenly realize with a flash who Mark is. Oh, holy crap. I completely forgot that Southeastern guy and I even exchanged numbers. Deleting my original message, I try to think of a clever, sexy message that an actual freshman in college might say.

  I got nada.

  My phone chimes again. Jamie. I forgot I’d even been texting with him. It’s not exactly like that, but it’s something he should’ve told her. I’m surprised he didn’t. But trust me, he’s a good guy.

  How good can he be? I type back furiously. He hurt my best friend, who’s pretty much the best person on Earth.

  Another chime a minute later. Maybe he just doesn’t think of her like that so he didn’t think it needed saying.

  I glance over at where Dev’s sweatshirt now lies discarded on the dirty carpet. Somehow, I doubt that’s the case.

  Talking to Jamie about this is pissing me off, so I go back to Freckles’s text instead. He’s so sweet. And, admittedly, so convenient. It’s hard not to picture keeping up with dinners at Joe’s, followed by rides to CCC, where he’ll go to his class and I’ll go off to Miss Lucy. Then we’ll drive home, holding hands over the stick shift, maybe park somewhere before he drops me off and I tell my mom all about it, signing all the romantic words I’ve never had occasion to before while my dad occasionally peeks in over the steel rims of his half glasses.

  I’m so lost in my visions of this cozy Charytan-centric future that the sound of another text startles me. I look down at my phone. It’s Mark again.

  Babe, u there? I’m at the Beta Gam party. U should come.

  It’s exactly the kind of text message I’ve always pictured filling my phone in college. I mean, isn’t that basically the point? Yeah, so they don’t have my dream major, but life at Southeastern would be a blast—parties with Sasha, meeting her sorority sisters, going to teas and formals and whatever else they do, having guys like Mark on my arm… Plus, Reagan loved that library, and I know the only reason she’s striking it from her list is because of me, which is crazy, right?

  Sorry! I text back to Mark. I’m already out with friends! Have fun! Xo. No reason to burn any bridges, not if we might be classmates next year.

  You pissed at me? I squint at my phone, confused at Mark’s response, until I realize this newest text is from Jamie. It’s getting hard to keep them all straight. And then I realize I never answered Freckles.

  I go back to Freckles’s text and reply, It’s definitely been an interesting weekend so far! How are things at home? Then it’s back to Jamie for, No, I’m pissed at the situation. Because I am. Because this weekend should’ve been awesomely fun for both of us, and instead Reagan’s depressed and I’m lying here in a lousy motel room trying to figure out what the hell I want and failing miserably.

  And just like that, I’m hit with the must-get-out-of-here bug again. I creep into the bathroom, close the door, and dial Jamie’s number. It takes a couple of rings before I hear a raspy “Hello?”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because I don’t want the guys to know I’m talking to you,” he replies in a duh voice.

  “Ouch.”

  “You’re whispering too.”

  “Yeah, because Reagan’s asleep.”

  “Already?”

  “What’s she supposed to be doing? Staying awake to cry over your friend?”

  Jamie sighs. “What’s up, Tori? You ignored me the entire freakin’ night and now you’re calling me for the second time?”

  “I didn’t ignore you. I was getting to know other people. And you were doing the same thing.”

  “Well, there are no other people around now, so what’s up?”

  “I wanna go out.”

  “You wanna go out? To where? Why?”

  “It’s not really a fully formed plan,” I admit. “I just want to do something.”

  “How am I supposed to ditch the guys to come get you?”

  His negativity is draining all the fun out of my spontaneous non-plan. I love Reagan, but as I think about all my options for the future, it’s hard to ignore that what might be the best for her isn’t the best for me, and vice versa. And this—getting caught up in her romantic drama rather than having fun—isn’t what I signed on for with the Reagan and Victoria College Visit Bonanza. Not that I’m not happy to be there for her through it and everything, but, well, she’s asleep and I’d like to do something to make the night a little less depressing.

  Too bad I seem to be alone on that front.

  “Never mind,” I tell Jamie dismissively. “I’ll just go for a walk around the block or something.”

  “No, no. Just wait. I’ll be by in ten minutes. You’re about half a mile up Bunting Road, right? The motel by campus?”

  “Yup. Room 417.”

  “I’ll see you in ten.”

  We hang up, and a rush of adrenaline whooshes through my veins. I have no idea what I’m doing. And I don’t care. I’m tired of thinking, and talking, and worrying about the future. All of that will still be there tomorrow.

  For now, I’m going to enjoy tonight.

  “Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

  I can’t see any street signs in the dark, but the surroundings look familiar. At least, I think they do. “We’re not far from campus,” I say dismissively, even though we’ve been driving for a good fifteen minutes. I don’t care about knowing where we are right now. I don’t really want to know. I just want to get lost and think about nothing.

  Apparently, Jamie doesn’t feel the same way, because after another two minutes of driving, he pulls off to the side of a road, next to a wide-open stretch of field, and turns to me. “What’s up with you?”

  “I just wanted to get out. Isn’t it nice to get out and do something?”

  “Didn’t we go to a party tonight?”

  The exasperated sigh pushes past my lips before I can even think to tamp it down. “You’re a pain in the butt, you know that? Why’d you even pick me up?”

  “Because you’re hot.” The way he says it, it’s like there’s an “obviously” on the end that he just doesn’t say out loud.

  “You do everything hot girls tell you?” It’s hard not to laugh but he’s given me too much power here and I don’t want to lose it by cracking. He gets a raised eyebrow and a slight upward curve of my lips instead. It’s nice to have the upper hand for the first time this weekend, and even though he’s gonna get some either way, I want him to work for it.

  “Depends how hot,” he says, a little saucier now, as he looks me up and down.

  “Drive to Mexico.”

  He laughs, but he looks half-afraid that I’m serious.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” I ask innocently.

  “It got me to lie to my best friends, pick up a girl I barely know, and drive into the middle of nowhere. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “Just barely.”

  “A peck on the cheek, maybe?”

  “Ohhh. So that’s what this is about? Hooking up with the hot chick?” I shake my head as if I’m gravely disappointed. A flush works its way up from his neck and it’s just about the most gratifying thing I’ve ever seen. “I just wanted some fresh air.” I let myself out of the car before he can say another word and go running into the field, twirling around in circles.

  I don’t even hear Jamie exit the car, but suddenly there he is, catching my arms in his hands. “You’re kind of a crazy chick, you know that?”

  I pull my arms free and let myself fall back onto the grass. “So I’ve been told.”

  “What’s your deal?”

  Looking up at him is sort of dizzying. There are stars all around his head, and there he is, all black-framed emo glasses and perma-smug lips. “No deal. Just a little restless.”

  “I can see that.” He straddles my legs as if he’s going to offer his hands to pull me up, but h
e doesn’t go that far, just stands there looking down at me. “How’s the fresh air?”

  I take a deep breath. “Wonderful.” I wonder how his glasses stay so firmly on his ears when his head is bent over me like that. “So, this is college, huh?”

  “Give or take a full course load and maybe a part-time job and some dorm rooms, I guess so.” He smiles. “Not impressed?”

  “Not really. You?”

  “I like what I see so far.”

  At that, I grin. “Smooth.”

  “Give a guy a break.”

  “You’re awfully far away to be making such demands,” I reply, because I’m bored of the game and my goose bumps are begging for someone else’s body heat.

  He needs no further encouraging and promptly drops to his knees, still straddling me. It’s quite the interesting position, even with both of us fully clothed. Well, if you can call me fully clothed; in the miniskirt I’ve paired with a sweatshirt and Uggs, my legs are mostly bare, exposing them to the rough fabric of his jeans. “How about now?”

  “Now you’re a little closer.”

  He leans over me, bracing a palm on the grass on either side of my head. His cologne is strong, but it’s a pleasant enough smell that I don’t mind, even mingled with the cola on his breath. I can see myself in his glasses, and it’s so unsettling that I reach up and carefully remove them.

  “You know I can’t see a damn thing without those on,” he says as I fold them up and set them to the side.

  “Good thing you don’t need to.” A second after the words are out of my mouth, his lips find mine or mine find his, I don’t even know but it doesn’t really matter. I’m no longer cold, and I’m back in control, parting Jamie’s lips to tangle my tongue with his, owning this kiss and him like I haven’t owned anything in…I don’t even know. I made this happen and it’s such a good feeling I don’t want to stop there.

  Jamie’s definitely the kind of guy who carries a condom around in his wallet at all times, but I have no plans to do anything with him tonight that requires using it. Still, I feel…I don’t know, sexually charged or something. Kissing’s not enough, not even the way we’re doing it right now, practically devouring each other like starving animals.