Misadventures of a College Girl

by Lauren Rowe

  My heart is racing. “I was just saying that, um… What was I saying? Oh, yeah. When I saw Wicked for the first time, I realized the most important thing about me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m destined to be a performer. It’s literally the only thing I want to do with my life. And that I’m supposed to wind up on Broadway one day. That I can’t stop working toward that goal until I achieve it.” My jaw tightens. “Getting onto Broadway is my life’s purpose. And the pinnacle of that destiny will be me playing Elphaba on Broadway.” I clutch my heart. It’s racing. “If I reach that peak, I’ll know I’ve lived the best life humanly possible.”

  Tyler smiles.

  “But I’m sure you can understand. You must dream of playing in the Super Bowl.”

  “All the time. Among other things.”

  “When did you first realize football is your life’s purpose?” I ask.

  “Oh, football isn’t my life’s purpose,” he says, shocking me. “It’s the vehicle for me to reach my higher destiny, for sure, but it’s not my life’s purpose. The same way boxing wasn’t Muhammad Ali’s life’s purpose.”

  “What was his life’s purpose?”

  “Ali was put on this earth to inspire greatness in others through displaying his own greatness. His true purpose was to use his charisma and star power to change people’s hearts and minds and make the world a better place. His purpose transcended boxing.”

  My lips part in surprise.

  “I’ve got a God-given gift for playing football,” Tyler says. “I know that. But my true purpose is figuring out how to harness that power to make an impact beyond football. Not just for my own personal wealth and success, which, of course, is part of what motivates me, but I also genuinely want to make the world a better place.”

  Okay. That’s it. I’m totally screwed. I just fell head over heels in love with Tyler Caldwell. And not because of any freaking halo effect, either. But because he’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met, both inside and out.

  For a long moment, I’m too mesmerized to speak. Or think. Or breathe. But, finally, I pull myself together and say, “You know, Tyler, you really should try dreaming a bit bigger sometimes. You never know what could happen if you just put your mind to it.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “Okay, enough trying to distract me,” Tyler says. He indicates his laptop. “Let’s see that video.”

  “Nope,” I say. I pull the laptop away from his greedy fingertips as he reaches for it.

  “Aw, come on, Zooey!”

  “Hang on.” I navigate to a new video—a karaoke track for “Defying Gravity.” “I’ve changed my mind.” I look up at him and smile. “I’ve decided to sing it for you live.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After the last soaring note of “Defying Gravity” leaves my lips, I close my mouth and lock eyes with Tyler. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes glistening and his chest rising and falling sharply. He looks the same way he did recently after I’d given him a particularly “artistic” blow job.

  Tyler stands. “That was incredible, Zooey.” He moves to me and peels off my shirt. And then his. “I’m so hard right now.” He’s got my shorts off. “When you hit that high note, I got an instant boner.” We’re both naked now. He pulls me onto the bed. In a flash, his warm skin is covering mine. His uncovered hard-on is jutting against my wet entrance. He slides his tip against my tingling clit, making it ache. “You’re God’s gift to the world,” he murmurs, kissing me. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

  Goose bumps erupt all over my body. I’m all his? “Tyler,” I whisper. But that’s all I can manage.

  He reaches down and massages my tip.

  And I’m instantly gone.

  “I’m coming,” I choke out.

  “You’re so sexy.” He raises my arms above my head, pins my wrists together with one of his large hands, and kisses me as I climax. “I can’t wait to feel greatness surrounding my cock. But first, I want to taste it.”

  As Tyler’s hungry lips make their way down to my belly toward the sensitive folds between my legs, I let out a long, low moan, anticipating his mouth’s ultimate landing spot.

  “You defy gravity, Zooey,” he says softly from between my legs. His warm, wet tongue finds my clit, making me groan. “Your pussy defies gravity, baby.”

  Um. Logically, I don’t know what that last comment means exactly, but logic has no place here. The way he said it turned me on. I buck and gyrate and push myself into Tyler’s voracious mouth, aching for another climax that’s already brewing inside me. He slides his fingers inside my wetness and his thumb up my ass while continuing to lick me…and…oh, God, yes…in short order, my body once again racks with shockwaves of pleasure.

  “I want you,” I breathe. I feel desperate for him. “Fuck me, Tyler.”

  Tyler grabs a condom from his drawer and gets himself covered in record speed. When he returns to me, he slides a pillow underneath the small of my back, pushes my thighs to my chest, folds me like a beach chair, and slides his full length into me with breathtaking ease. “Zooey,” he whispers. “You’re fucking amazing.”

  I hitch my legs up around Tyler’s ribcage as he thrusts into me. Dig my fingernails into his forearms as he holds my thighs in place. “Deeper,” I whisper. “As deep as you can go. Oh, God, yes. Deeper than you’ve ever gone.”

  After a few minutes of enduring Tyler’s powerful thrusting, my body releases with an orgasm so intense, tears well in my eyes. Or, heck, I don’t know. Maybe water is spouting from my tear ducts simply because I sang my favorite song to Tyler—the one that honestly expresses the most important thing there is to know about my soul—and it made him hard for me.

  On the heels of my orgasm, Tyler impales me, snaps his hips forward, lets out a loud growl, and collapses on top of me. Several more jerks and shudders on top of me and his body finally goes completely quiet.

  For a long moment, we lie in a crumpled, intertwined heap, gasping for air, until Tyler lifts his head and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. But when he sees the tears streaking my cheeks, his brow instantly knits with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then what’s that clear liquid coming out of those pretty blue things in your face?”

  I wipe my cheeks. Try to smile. Oh, God, I want to tell him the truth. That I’m crying because I just realized I feel closer to him than I’ve felt to anyone in my life. And that I can’t bear the idea of us being nothing more than friends mere weeks from now. But I’m quite certain a reply like that would break every rule of our arrangement and possibly spur him into breaking things off with me prematurely. And so, I take a deep breath and say, “Sometimes, when a girl’s body feels really, really good, liquid spontaneously squirts out her peep holes.”

  Tyler laughs and pushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Promise me something, Zooey Cartwright.”

  I hold my breath.

  “Promise me you’ll never give up on chasing your big dreams.”

  Oh, well that’s an easy one. “I promise.”

  “And promise you’ll start dreaming even bigger than being Alfalfa on Broadway.”

  “Elphaba.”

  “Whatever. You’re filled with greatness, baby. That means you need to start dreaming way bigger than being Elphaba, sweetheart. Bigger than you think you have a right to dream. Don’t tamp down your greatness to fit in or make people around you feel better about their own absence of greatness. Greatness like yours is rare in this world. A precious gift.” His eyes are on fire. “It’s not arrogance to think you can change the world, Zooey. When you have greatness inside you, it’s your duty to believe that.”

  He’s rendered me speechless. I nod, but only because I don’t know what else to do.

  Tyler strokes my cheek for a moment, apparently deep in thought. And then he smiles at me, gently pulls on a lock of my curly hair, and watches it bounce
and re-coil when he releases it. “Promise me you won’t rest until the entire world has heard that incredible voice of yours, Zooey. Anything short of that, God’s going to be pissed he picked you of all his children to gift the voice of an angel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It’s a Tuesday night at Tyler’s house. As I walked through the front door several hours ago, I immediately insisted Tyler and I rehearse our scene from Romeo and Juliet right away, before we let ourselves get hopelessly distracted the way we always do.

  “Absolutely,” Tyler agreed. “Just let me take a quick shower. I just got home. I’m all sweaty.”

  “Sure. But right after that, okay?”

  “You bet.”

  So, of course, I joined Tyler in the shower. That was a no-brainer. And we wound up having some yummy sex that took way longer than either of us had planned. But who could blame us? The hot water was raining down on us, making our skin all hot and pink and slippery and delicious. So who could possibly rush anything under circumstances like that? And then, immediately after our shower, Tyler and I didn’t get to rehearsing our scene right away, either, but that was only because we were both feeling extremely relaxed and happy from our sexy shower, and Tyler was feeling exhausted from his long day of practice and workouts and classes. Under the circumstances, it only seemed fair to let the poor guy unwind for a bit by watching an episode of The Office.

  “Just one episode, Tyler,” I warned sternly. “And then it’s time for Romeo and Juliet, whether you like it or not.”

  “Absolutely.”

  With our one-episode pact firmly agreed upon, we snuggled up together in Tyler’s bed and turned on Netflix and happily joined our virtual best friends at the fictional paper company, Dunder Mifflin, for some hijinks. Five episodes later, when Hanalei shouted up the stairs to ask if we wanted to join the rest of the guys for fish tacos in the Village, we called back “Si, señor!” But that was a no-brainer, too. I mean, come on, it’s Taco Tuesday.

  Finally, when Tyler and I returned to the house after tacos with the guys—during which we played yet another round of Make Zooey Cartwright Laugh, this time with no money at stake, thank God—we marched straight up to Tyler’s room, vowing to practice our Shakespeare scene immediately. But we didn’t manage it quite yet. It wasn’t our fault, though. What sane person wouldn’t get a little distracted after putting on those sparkling masks? They’re sexy as hell. So, yeah, we wound up having enthusiastic sex, yet again, this time against Tyler’s bedroom wall. Right against the poster of that football player I don’t recognize in the Broncos uniform. Note to self: Ask Tyler who that Bronco is.

  After that, I made Tyler watch Cartoon Network for a bit, but only because I’d made yet another cartoon-related joke that Tyler didn’t get—this time referencing Steven Universe. I mean, come on! He’d never even heard of it! So, of course, we watched an episode, and Tyler laughed uproariously several times.

  And now, finally, Tyler and I are sitting on the edge of his bed, rehearsing our scene from Romeo and Juliet while wearing nothing but our underwear and masquerade masks. All in all, a damned fine Tuesday night, I must say, even if we’re not going to win any awards for academic productivity.

  “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,” Tyler says, his palm pressed against mine. He scowls. “Shoot. What’s my line?” He snaps his fingers like a thespian summoning a lowly stagehand. “Line!”

  I giggle. “They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

  “Shit. I’m never going to be able to memorize this damned scene.”

  “Yes, you are. If we practice the scene enough times, you’ll memorize it without even trying. That’s why I keep nagging at you to rehearse.”

  “Can’t I just read from the book when we perform it for our class?”

  I’m aghast. “Blasphemy! Oh, my God, Tyler. My heart.” I clutch my chest. “If you’re on-book during the performance, you won’t be able to completely immerse yourself in Romeo’s emotional life.”

  Tyler rolls his eyes behind his mask. “That was literally the most theater-major thing you’ve ever said.”

  I ignore his jab. “This scene is about Romeo seeing Juliet for the first time and feeling like he’s been struck by a thunderbolt. He sees her, and he’s instantly positive she’s his destiny. You won’t be able to convey Romeo’s heart-stopping, all-encompassing, written-in-the-stars attraction to Juliet if you’re staring at the pages of your textbook.”

  Tyler sighs. “It’d be a whole lot easier if those two knuckleheads would just speak plain English.”

  I giggle. “And what would those two knuckleheads say if they did?”

  “They wouldn’t say ‘lest faith turn to despair,’ that’s for fucking sure.”

  Oh my God, he’s so cute when he’s annoyed. “What would Romeo say in plain English? We might as well start fleshing out the companion contemporary scene we’re supposed to write. We’re way behind on that.”

  Tyler considers his reply. “Well, this scene is about Romeo seeing Juliet at a party and feeling like she’s his idea of the perfect girl, right?”

  “That’s a great way to explain it. Yes.”

  “Well, then, that’s easy. Romeo would say to Juliet whatever I said to you when I first saw you at the party.”

  My heart stops. Oh, my God.

  “Do you remember what I said to you when I first approached you?” Tyler asks breezily, apparently unaware of the heart-stopping dots he’s just connected. “I could barely think when I first saw you. You were so gorgeous, you fried my brain. Plus, I was drunk that night, which wasn’t typical for me.”

  My heart is racing. “Yeah, um, I remember exactly what we both said. You were like, ‘Hey, I’m Tyler Caldwell.’ And then I said something like ‘Gah-buh-dah-boo-gah.’ And then you said, ‘I don’t go for freshmen because they’re batshit crazy.’ And I said something like, ‘That’s dumb.’ And then you said, ‘Rules were made to be broken.’” I laugh. “We weren’t the second coming of Romeo and Juliet, to be honest.”

  Tyler chuckles. “Okay, then we should make our modern-day Romeo say what I was thinking when I saw you, not what I actually said. That ought to give our modern-day Juliet something more interesting to work with.”

  The hairs on my arms stand up. “What were you thinking when you saw me?”

  Tyler scoots closer to me on the edge of the bed. He grabs my hand. “Hey there. I saw you across the crowded kitchen and couldn’t believe my eyes. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen in my life. My idea of perfect. The minute I saw you, every other girl at this party faded away. Every other girl in the world, as a matter of fact. Suddenly, it was just you and me and my very hard cock.” He smiles and leans toward me, sending my heart fluttering. “Beautiful girl, I want to kiss you so fucking bad—more than I want to draw my next breath.”

  My cheeks feel hot. I nod and pucker, and he leans in and kisses me.

  And that’s it. I lose my mind. I throw my arms around Tyler’s neck and slide onto his lap and straddle him and attack him—and not ten seconds later, Tyler’s Shakespeare textbook has landed with a thud onto the floor, our masks and underwear are off and thrown willy-nilly across the room, and our Romeo and Juliet rehearsal is officially done for the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It’s Wednesday night, and I’m at Tyler’s house. Once again, we’re practicing our Shakespearean scene in his bedroom.

  “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” Tyler says, his blue eyes glinting behind his mask. “This is where I kiss you, right?”

  I nod.

  Tyler pulls me close and lays a sexy kiss on my lips. And then he whispers, without needing to glance at the book sitting next to him on the bed, “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

  “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” I reply.

  “Sin from thy lips?” Tyler replies. “O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.”

  H
e kisses me again, only this time like he’s going to fuck the living hell out of me.

  “Oh, my God. That was amazing, Tyler!” I’m giddy with excitement. “You were amazing! My only note is that you can’t kiss me quite that passionately when we perform it for the class. But, otherwise, it was absolutely perfect.”

  “Why can’t I kiss you that passionately? Romeo and Juliet are totally hot for each other. You said Romeo feels like he was struck by a thunderbolt.”

  “Yeah, but they just met.”

  “So what? Five minutes after I met you, we were swallowing each other’s faces and dry-humping each other on a dance floor.”

  “Things were different back then. The slightest kiss was a huge thing.”

  “Oh, come on. You think Romeo would have been any less hot for Juliet than I was for you out of the gate, just because it was the sixteenth century? For fuck’s sake, the dude kills himself over her at the end. That’s some next-level passion, son. I say we let the poor guy mack down on his bae the same way I macked down on you.”

  “No, we need to do a stage kiss. Like this.” I give him a prim, little peck.

  Tyler shakes his head. “Juliet’s not his sister. When Romeo sees her, she ignites a forest fire in the depths of his soul. He instantly knows she’s the answer to a prayer he didn’t even know he had. Yes, as it turns out at the end, they’re star-crossed lovers and totally doomed, but Romeo doesn’t know that when he first lays eyes on her. All he knows is he wants that girl more than he wants to breathe. More than he ever thought possible. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get a taste of her perfect lips. And that means Romeo needs to kiss Juliet exactly the way I kissed you at the party.”

  Um… Did Tyler just say what I think he said? I clutch my heart, feeling like it just exploded all over the Muhammad Ali poster on the nearby wall. But Tyler seems oblivious to what he’s just implied. Indeed, he forges right ahead, apparently determined to convince me he’s in the right about the appropriate level of heat for our theatrical kiss.