Tears started in my eyes again, as I sank to the floor. "Ri, oh God, I fucked up. Big time. He'll never forgive me." I couldn't say any more, as big, gulping sobs were choking me. Huddled on the floor, I wished the past day had never happened. Then a deluge of cold water hit me and I screamed.
Rihanna stood over me, the ice bucket upside down in her hands and a scowl on her face that told me I was in even more trouble than I thought.
"What. The. FUCK. Happened," she spit through clenched teeth.
"I, I," Like a toddler who'd lost her breath from crying so hard, I tried to answer, with no luck. Ri whirled on her heel and went back over to the sink, where she began filling the ice bucket with water again.
"No! Ri, wait." She set the bucket down on the counter and put her hands on her hips, arms akimbo.
"God, I m-made such a m-mess of it," I managed.
"Drew is blowing up my phone with texts, and he's making no sense. He says you threw him out of your room and you hate him. What the fuck, Janey?"
"Oh, shit, I don't even know where to begin," I said.
"Begin with why Drew was in our room." Ri was a stern judge, an avenging angel and an angry god, all rolled into one. I didn't dare tell her, but I had no choice.
"I asked him to come in for a little while." I hung my head. "It was all my fault." I peeked at Rihanna, seeing no hint of her relenting and letting me out of the painful confession.
"Ri, he took me walking on the beach in the moonlight, and I just lost my head. I've wanted him for months, and he won't, and I begged him."
Ri tilted her head to the right, a puzzled frown on her forehead. "Wait, what do you mean, he won't?"
"Haven't you realized, Ri? He won't sleep with me. He's as sweet as he can be, and he asked me to go steady and he cares for me, I know he does, but I wanted sex!" It all came out in a rush, forcing Rihanna to think a minute to sort it out.
"He wouldn't have sex with you, so you threw him out? Janey, I don't get it."
Now that the painful revelation was out, I found I was able to take a deep breath and try to make more sense of it.
"No, Ri, he has never wanted to have sex with me. I mean, he says he does want to, but he won't, because he's afraid I'll be a distraction and he'll blow his shot at the NBA." I was still unable to stop running on my sentences. Ri was getting it, though, I could tell from the dawning understanding on her face.
"So," she said, drawing out the word slowly, "last night, you tried to get him to, and he wouldn't, and you threw him out. I can understand that."
"No, that wasn't it." I took a deep breath. "We did. Or, sort of. He didn't have a condom, so we just had oral, and then he said he loved me, and I lost it."
Now the whole truth was out. I waited for Rihanna to punch me in the nose the way she'd done Drew's childhood girlfriend, or to pour more water on me, or even yell at me. What she did, though, made me drop my jaw. She laughed. Great guffaws, shrieks and giggles, followed by more guffaws rocked her, until, tears rolling down her cheeks, she flopped down on the floor beside me.
"You guys had sex! I'm so happy!"
I stared at her. "Did you not hear what I said? I lost it when he said he loved me, and that's when I threw him out. He didn't understand, and he was so hurt! Oh, Ri, I've screwed it all up. Just because I don't know if I love him."
"Well, that's another question altogether. Okay, I'm not gonna kill you, but you've gotta straighten this out."
"I know, but when? I won't see him before the game."
"Text him. Tell him 'misunderstanding, will explain later.' Do it now."
It was the least I could do, though I had my doubts that telling Drew the truth would help the situation in the long run. Nevertheless, he had a game tonight, and the last thing he needed was a distraction.
In the stands, Ri and I kept anxious eyes on the team, looking for Drew, who didn't make an appearance with the rest of the team. We looked at each other and even debated texting him, but we knew he wouldn't have his phone in the locker room, assuming he was there. He hadn't answered my text from earlier in the afternoon.
Without Drew, the team lagged behind, showing neither offense nor defense during the first half. Ri was beside herself and I had chewed my cuticles until they bled. Finally, after the half-time break, Drew appeared with the rest of the team, but he looked awful, and his presence on court didn't help the team. It was a loss, a bad one, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was entirely my fault. Especially since Rihanna kept telling me that.
~~~
Rihanna dropped her cold shoulder act long enough on the next Wednesday to ask if I would go to the game. I wanted to; not only because I missed Drew, but also because I didn't want to miss one of the highlights of my week. The excitement of the game, the camaraderie afterward, I loved the whole thing. The trouble was that it wouldn't be the same. Drew and I hadn't talked, but I knew how he was feeling because Rihanna took care to tell me. No sooner did the team return home than he'd failed a mid-term for the first time in his school career. According to Ri, it was my fault.
I was in an agony of indecision. On the one hand, I liked Drew, maybe more than liked; but was it love? It would be easy to make up with him, make him happy and he'd go back to the excellent student and athlete that we all knew him to be. On the other hand, how could I let him fall more deeply for me when I was just using him to try to forget Justin? Was that all it was?
I was an emotional wreck. When I thought about it rationally, I realized that sex was the problem. If I hadn't had sex with Justin, my schoolgirl crush would have been just that, and I'd be over it by now. If I hadn't been sexual with Drew, he wouldn't have declared his love and we'd still be comfortable friends with flirting and kissing on the side. It was enough to make me swear off sex.
I told Rihanna that I didn't think it was a good idea for me to go to the game with her. I'd go, but sit by myself and leave without joining Drew's fans afterward. Ri thought that was a terrible idea and quit speaking to me again.
On Wednesday, Drew was off his game still. Rihanna told me later that he blamed himself for the loss in a low-scoring game, the only home loss they'd experienced this season. She was livid, and I didn't blame her. I thought it was my fault, too. I crept out of the stadium as soon as the final horn sounded and took myself home, miserable and alone. While Ri was no doubt out with her peeps, comforting Drew, I was soul-searching. I had fallen asleep before Ri came back to the dorm, and only put my pillow over my head when she flipped the light on and made as much noise as she could to let me know what she thought of me.
I had decided. I was going to quit thinking about Justin, go about my business and keep my head down until Spring Break. Then I'd go home to lick my wounds and come back a new woman. I'd see other boys, not get serious with any of them and definitely not have sex. Maybe I’d never have sex again. It seemed to cause nothing but trouble.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It would have been easy to carry out my plan if Justin hadn't known to find me in the Student Union for coffee every morning at ten. I shouldn't have continued the habit after my disastrous experience with him, but Alicia often joined me and I'd enjoyed the company of a few other acquaintances. I had exactly one day of peace after my decision. Then, on Friday, my past walked up and sat down at the table with me, coffee in hand.
"Hi, Janey."
"Justin. What a surprise." I kept my voice flat, neither welcoming nor angry. Maybe if he thought I wasn't interested, he'd go away and I'd be okay.
"I've missed you, not having you in class this semester. You're the brightest student I've ever had." Damn him, he knew how to get my attention. I finally met his eyes and was lost. He gazed at me with the heat of a glowing ember, ready to burst into flame at the slightest touch of moving air.
"What do you want, Justin?" I managed to ask. This time I wouldn't give him encouragement, but God help me, the sight of him had no less effect now than it had the first time, months ago. My stomach flipped, I got that urge t
o run or fight and it was all I could do to sit there calmly. My eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips.
He saw it. He saw everything, I knew in the next moment, when he smiled lazily. "I think you know what I want, Janey."
"Not only no, but hell no," I answered, but there was no heat in it. Justin smiled even more broadly.
"Just dinner, then. No ulterior motives, I promise." I should have known better than to trust the promise of a known player. I should have stuck to my plan to forget him. I should have jumped and run, fueled by the surge of adrenaline that spiked at that moment. Instead, my subconscious betrayed me.
"Okay," I said, defeated by desire.
"Shall I pick you up here again? Tonight, seven?"
"All right. Justin, I won't go home with you."
"Did I ask you to?" Yes, he had, but not in so many words. "Just dinner. It's been too long since I've had an intelligent conversation with a student."
I flattered myself that he actually wanted to talk, this man who was nearly twice my age and more than twice as sophisticated. There was even a little thrill of intellectual challenge, as I imagined myself dazzling him with my wit over some elegant meal. My plan to swear off men forgotten, I spent the rest of the day in fluttery anticipation of my date that night.
The day had been unseasonably warm, but I knew by now that Salt Lake's weather was fickle. A front was predicted for sometime during the evening, so I dressed warmly in a sweater and slacks, with a wool pea coat carried over my arm. My boots and a scarf around my neck that would double as a head wrap if it turned cold as expected completed my outfit. I was satisfied that it wasn't in the least bit sexy, but still showed my curves nicely and was dressy enough for a nice restaurant.
This time I was a few minutes late, deliberately, so as not to seem anxious or eager. Justin's car waited at the curb as I approached on the sidewalk. When I knocked on the window, he got out and came to open the door for me, without comment. We drove off campus and down Foothill Blvd. to the I15 loop and turned south, exiting on Wasatch before I finally asked where we were going this time.
"Snowbird," he replied.
I knew of the town from others on campus, who took every opportunity to head either there or Park City to ski during the winter. I'd never been there, though, since I didn't ski. Sometimes I'd go with Ri and company to Park City and shop the outlet stores while they skied, but Snowbird was just a string of upscale homes along the road, interspersed with ski resorts; no town to speak of. What I didn't know was that there were several excellent restaurants scattered throughout the high-rise resorts. We passed Iron Blosam Lodge, an ugly square of concrete and continued up the road to the Cliff Lodge, still concrete but not quite so ugly.
I wondered aloud why they hadn't used a more esthetically pleasing design and building materials.
Justin, who had been silent most of the way, replied, "Avalanches." He seemed to think that answer was sufficient.
It was nearly eight when we were seated at our table at The Aerie, where the shadowy mountain right outside the window captivated me. It seemed I could reach out and touch the peak it was so close. I decided that as soon as I could find the time, I was going to drive up and take in the sights of this canyon during the daytime, when I could fully see the beauty In could only get a hint of in the dark.
Once again, Justin ordered without consulting me, but his choice of beef tenderloin suited me. The first pour of red wine came with the salad, pear and bleu cheese for me; roasted beet and goat cheese for Justin. When he playfully speared a candied walnut from my plate, I retaliated by taking a beet from his. That broke the ice, and we conversed pleasantly throughout the rest of the meal.
I paid little attention to how much I was drinking, but noted with approval that Justin was pacing himself. The drive down the narrow, winding canyon road would be dangerous enough in the dark without him being impaired. We could see that big, fluffy snowflakes had begun to drift past our window.
I had a pleasant buzz when the dessert menu was presented, and didn't really care for dessert, but Justin ordered the chocolate mousse anyway, along with a cup of coffee for him and a nightcap called a French Kiss for me; hot chocolate spiked with a couple of rich liqueurs and topped with whipped cream. He insisted on feeding me spoonfuls of the mousse, which I had to admit was excellent, topped as it was with raspberries. By the time I'd finished my nightcap, I realized that I was more than tipsy, laughing at every little thing Justin said and feeling on top of the world.
Leaving the restaurant, Justin spoke to the server about the snow outside, asking if the road was clear.
"I'm not sure, sir. Would you like me to check? Are you a guest at the hotel?"
"No, we were planning on returning to Salt Lake tonight. Yes, please check, if you will."
We waited for the server to come back with Justin's credit card and our weather report, chatting idly as I realized the snow was no longer drifting, but was thick and falling hard. In a few minutes, the server came back with a worried expression on his face.
"Sir, there's been an avalanche about five miles west. I'm sorry to have to tell you that the road is closed until morning. I took the liberty of checking availability for you, and there is a double room available. They're holding it for your decision, but you must hurry. There are more people looking for rooms than there are available rooms."
"Thank you for that," Justin told the server. To me, he said, "What do you think? Risk a night with me in a double room, or sleep in a chair in the lobby?" Leaving a generous tip on the table along with the signed credit card slip, he helped me with my coat and guided me out of the restaurant, his hand at my back.
There wasn't much thinking involved. Feeling warm and fuzzy from the great food, the wine, and the nightcap, I didn't want to spoil it with an uncomfortable night on a lobby chair, nor did I think I'd be able to sleep in public. That seemed more dangerous than spending the night with Justin. "Let's get the room, please," I answered.
Justin's profile had a suspiciously pinched look, as if he were suppressing a smug smile. I wondered if he knew the storm would bring this outcome and had planned the whole thing. I told myself that was ridiculous, how could anyone predict an avalanche? I took Justin's arm for stability as we went to the front desk. The desk clerk looked at his computer with a frown when Justin requested a room with two queen beds.
"For you and your…daughter?" he asked. Now it was Justin's turn to frown.
"For my date and me," he responded. One waxed and shaped eyebrow on the clerk's face went up as his eyes flicked back and forth between us.
"Sorry," he said. "Well, I have nothing like that available. Will one king do, sir?"
"If that's all that's available, I suppose it will," Justin said, again with that hint of a smug smile. So it was settled. I'd be sleeping with Justin whether I wanted to or not, the alternative being stretching out on a couch at the mercy of whoever came along while I was asleep.
~~~
The room we were given was less than romantic, overlooking the closed swimming pool with no view of the mountains on either side of the canyon. But, it was comfortable, spacious, with a table and two chairs in one corner, an entertainment center with a flat-screen TV and DVD player, as well as a coffee service on the table next to it. The king-sized bed looked wide enough to accommodate both of us without unnecessary touching, and I began to relax.
More problematic was what I'd sleep in. We visited the small convenience kiosk for toothbrushes, toothpaste and deodorant for the morning, but the clothing boutiques were closed. It appeared my bra and panties would have to do, though less comfortable sleeping garments I couldn't imagine. On the way up to the room again, Justin asked if I'd like to have his undershirt to sleep in, which seemed to me to be a better idea than the bra. He was enough taller that the shirt went halfway to my knees, so I took off the panties and washed them in the sink in anticipation of having to wear them again tomorrow.
Justin's undershirt was sleeveless; of the t
ype I'd heard called 'wife-beater', though I didn't know why. The neckline had a v-neck that, because it was so big on me, showed quite a bit of cleavage. Fortunately, this hotel boasted thick, white terry-cloth robes, which I put on before leaving the bathroom where I'd disrobed. I hung up my slacks and sweater, bra, and the wet panties. I found Justin already in bed, two pillows stuffed behind his head along with his crossed arms. He smiled when he saw me all bundled up in the robe.
"Looks like you found a way to keep from tempting me," he grinned.
"Lucky me," I retorted, unsure whether my clever response was true or not. Justin made it harder to think by sweeping the sheet and blanket back to invite me into the bed, exposing his sleek chest. My heart slammed into my mouth instantly.
Half of me wanted to flee, but the other half wanted to throw myself into his arms and damn the consequences. By exercising rigid control, I managed to lie down at the far edge of the bed, my back to him and my hand questing for the bedclothes to cover up. A sudden cool sensation made me suspect that the shirt had ridden up over my naked backside, but I was too self-conscious to pull the shirt down. Instead I yanked the covers up.
"Goodnight, Janey," Justin's amused voice intoned.
"Goodnight, Justin. Thank you for dinner; and for, you know, getting this room, and your shirt." Embarrassed, I stopped abruptly.
"You're welcome," he chuckled. I knew he was laughing at my expense, but I couldn't see what was funny about the situation. Lulled by the alcohol I'd consumed, I went to sleep immediately.
I awoke, overheated and needing to use the restroom, sometime later. When I started to get up, an arm tightened around my waist and I came fully awake with alarm. It took a moment to remember where I was, why I was there, and whose arm that must be. Justin had scooted in to spoon with me as I slept. Another moment passed as I assessed my position. Justin's arm was around my waist; he'd also thrown a leg over mine and his face was nuzzled into my neck. Other than being too hot, I was remarkably comfortable. This must be how it was for Charity and Russ, snuggled every night into a warm cocoon.
Played Page 11