Sorority of Three: Freshman 101

by Melissa Brown

  “Like in your garden?” he asked, genuinely confused. And I couldn’t blame him. Not many college students had the knowledge I had on all things health nut.

  “No, in the kitchen. She buys these stacking trays. It’s—it’s not important,” I said, looking down at the table and tucking my hair behind my ears.

  “No, really…I’m fascinated. I’ve never heard of this grass before.”

  “It’s not fascinating, trust me,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Something else, then,” he said, noticing how uncomfortable I’d become. “Where are you from? Illinois?”

  “Yes,” I said with a nod. “I live in the suburbs of Chicago. Like way up north. Almost Wisconsin.”

  “Do you go into the city often?”

  “A few times a year.”

  “That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “If I lived near a city like Chicago, I’d be there every minute. It’s fantastic.”

  “It can be a little overwhelming. There are so many people.”

  “This school is huge. Doesn’t that overwhelm you?” He propped one elbow on the table and placed his chin in the palm of his hand, giving me his undivided attention.

  I shrugged. “I know it should, but it doesn’t. I’ve always wanted to go here. Both of my parents did. So we came down here all the time when I was little…football games and stuff.”

  “Ah, excellent. Not such a good team, though.”

  “No, not really,” I said with a laugh before trying a sip of the tea. “This is really good.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I have some in my dorm, but my roommate thinks I’m mental.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “Most American college guys stick with beer.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love a nice pint, I do, but I love this too.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a cultural thing.”

  He nodded.

  An uncomfortable pause set up camp in our conversation. I stirred my tea as Ross sipped his.

  “So, you’re a first year?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Third.”

  “Are you here for the entire school year?”

  “As long as I keep my grades up.” He chuckled. “If not, my mum will have my arse back on a plane by March.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said, raising both eyebrows and clenching my teeth.

  “It’s all right. So far, so good. Although lately I’m feeling a wee bit distracted.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “There’s this really cute redhead in my history class,” he said softly.

  “Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. My first instinct was to assume he was talking about someone else.

  “You, Grace,” he said with a laugh. “I’m talkin’ about you.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks burned with humiliation. “I’m so stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re humble. I like that. I haven’t seen much of that since I arrived. It’s refreshing.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still feeling embarrassed, but a little more confident. “So, um…this girl?”

  “Yeah, I like her a lot. Not sure if she likes me, though.” He curled his bottom lip under his top teeth and smiled. A dimple made its presence known on his cheek.

  God, he’s cute.

  “She does,” I said softly, feeling embarrassed again.

  “That’s good,” he said, finishing his tea. “May I walk you home, Grace?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  We walked to Weston Hall, continuing our conversation. I was feeling much more relaxed. His sweet demeanor put me at ease. So much so, that I yawned as we approached the dorm.

  “Are you bored of me already, then?” Ross asked with a teasing laugh.

  I giggled and lightly pushed his arm. He quickly took me in his arms and kissed me.

  My very first kiss. Crazy, right? I just turned eighteen and I was finally kissed by a guy. But it was the truth and I wasn’t going to deny it.

  We stood there kissing on the sidewalk, even though I had no idea if I was doing it right. His lips were soft and his breath smelled like tea and spices. It was warm and gentle.

  After that initial kiss, he continued to kiss me…my forehead, my cheeks, my neck. It was a very sweet and peaceful moment. No intense fireworks that Sunny always talked about, which made me wonder. Was that a bad sign? I had no idea! I simply took in the sensations of his lips against my skin. And it was nice.

  “Well,” Ross said as he gently kissed my nose. “I had better let you get some sleep. I’m sure you probably have class in the morning.”

  “Yep, at nine o’clock,” I said with a smile.

  “How about Saturday, then? Do you have plans? Say around two?”

  “No, Saturday sounds great.”

  “See you then, Grace,” he said in his thick Scottish accent as he walked away, leaving me stunned. Completely stunned.

  I was no longer un-kissable. I had been kissed. And it was pretty fantastic.

  At least, I think it was.

  Chapter 12

  Wow

  Claudia

  Mid-December, a Wednesday, and the coldest day of the freaking year

  Everyone had moments in their life that they replayed in their head again and again, like a freaking movie reel. At least, I was pretty sure everyone had them, except for me. As I sat with Libby in her apartment, studying for our Spanish final exam, I thought about those special moments and wondered when I would have my first.

  For some people, that memory was of their first kiss. My first kiss was not one of those moments I mentioned. I had no desire to replay it in my head, but it was permanently seared into my brain just the same.

  It was my first homecoming dance. I was a freshman in high school and one of the football players had noticed me cheering on the sidelines. Grayson Miles did his research, found out who I was, and despite the fact that he was a junior and I was a lowly freshman, he invited me to the dance.

  I had been seriously excited.

  My mom had taken me to the store to buy a dress, which was a big deal in and of itself. My mom was a seamstress, and up to this point had insisted on sewing my dresses. I had never really complained because she was good at it. Really good. But buying a dress at a store was a novelty to me since my mom had been making my clothes since I was a baby.

  “Seriously? We’re going to Macy’s?”

  “Yeah,” Mom had said. “I have so many orders this month—window treatments, valances, quilts. There’s no time for a dress. Is that okay?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said with a huge grin, and her face fell. She thought I’d be disappointed, and instead, I was overjoyed. Way to go, Claude.

  Anyway, she and I went to the store. Mom was disgusted by the prices and “chintzy” fabric, but I was in heaven. There were so many styles, so many colors and fabrics. And the best part? The hemlines were much shorter than what Soha Mansour would create in her workshop. Even though I could tell she did not approve one bit of the short length of the dresses I tried on, she allowed me to pick one. And I did.

  It was gorgeous. Short and black with bits of detail along the top. Cap sleeves that sat on my tan shoulders. The clingy fabric hugged my hourglass shape. I felt gorgeous and sexy.

  Grayson picked me up before the dance. He didn’t offer to take me to dinner first, but I didn’t care because he was picking me up in his very own car! I was fourteen—the fact that my date had that type of independence and luxury was fascinating to me. Especially since my parents were hesitant to even allow me to drive before the age of eighteen.

  Was I attracted to Grayson? No. But I was attracted to his age, his independence, his status on the football team. I was attracted to the idea of Grayson rather than the guy himself.

  So, we went to the dance. It was fine, although nothing exciting. He hung out with his buddies a lot, tapping me on the shoulder when he was ready to dance with me. I wasn’t terribly disappointed because that meant I was able to hang out with my frie
nds during the rap and hip-hop songs.

  After the dance, Grayson drove me home. And this was where the story got interesting. Well, it was interesting to me now that I felt the way I did for Libby.

  He stopped the car and turned off the lights, but left the music on.

  “Have a good time?” he asked, placing his arm around the headrest of my seat.

  “Sure, it was okay,” I said with a shrug. My fingers fidgeted in my lap. How long did I have to stay in this car? Could I just say good night and go inside?

  “You look hot in that dress,” he said, ogling me.

  Yuck. “Thanks.”

  Within seconds, his hand was on my thigh and his tongue was darting into my mouth. I’d never been kissed by a boy before. And I had to admit, I was pretty grossed out.

  I pressed my hand to his chest, pushing him back to his own seat. I needed space, air, something between us.

  “Whoa, sorry,” Grayson said. “I, uh, thought you wanted me to.”

  “What on earth made you think that?” I asked incredulously.

  “You—the dress, your hair, your makeup. You look hot.”

  “That’s just how I look,” I said with a shrug. “That doesn’t mean I want your tongue in my mouth.”

  “So, basically I wasted my time,” Grayson said with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Why’d you say yes?”

  “To the dance?”

  He nodded.

  “Because I wanted to go.”

  “With me?” he asked.

  “Well…”

  “Ah, I get it. I’m a junior, and I have a car. Is that why?”

  “Um…”

  “Stupid bitches.”

  “What?” I screeched.

  “All of you girls. You think we’re such assholes, but it’s you. You’re the problem. I could’ve asked Randa.”

  “Randa Stewart?”

  Randa Stewart was, to be honest, a slut. A total and complete slut. I didn’t like to say shit like that about other females, but in this case, it was true. Randa had a reputation for sleeping with any guy who took her out.

  “Yeah,” he said with bitterness.

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” I said with a snort. “Make sure you get tested for an STD after.”

  “Can you just get out?” Grayson had asked, starting the engine and turning on his headlights.

  “Happily.” I had climbed out and slammed the door.

  Within seconds, he’d torn out of the driveway, his tires screeching all the way down my street.

  There you had it…my first kiss. It sucked. But at the time, I thought it just sucked because of Grayson. And yes, I was sure part of it was that I was kissed by a lame-ass football player who just wanted to get in someone’s—anyone’s—pants that night.

  But that wasn’t the whole story. The feel of his hand on my leg, the rough darting of his tongue, his hot breath on mine. It didn’t give me butterflies, it turned my stomach, which couldn’t be a good sign.

  Obviously, that was not one of the play-over-and-over-again-in-your-head kind of moments. It was one of those that I would choose to forget, if I could. Yet I was forever destined to remember Grayson Miles as my first kiss.

  However, the first kiss that really mattered happened tonight.

  Libby and I had ordered take-out Thai food and were studying at her kitchen table. Her apartment was empty. Both of her roommates were studying at the library.

  “Did you want more of the pad thai?” Libby asked, holding the container of food and serving spoon. She was always such a thoughtful hostess.

  “No, I’m stuffed. Thanks,” I said.

  “Okay, I guess I should put everything away and actually study,” she said, carrying the leftovers to the fridge. “Kind of funny that we’re eating Thai while studying Spanish.”

  “True.” I always loved how Libby inspected the world at every turn. She was fascinated with people—why they did what they did, their motivations, their passions. It was one of my favorite things about her. Although, instead of telling her, I teased her instead. “Tell me more, Jerry.”

  My older brother used to torture me with Seinfeld episodes when I was younger. My parents didn’t really understand the humor but Amir loved it, quoting it daily and hogging the TV whenever it was on while Mom cooked dinner. When I complained, Mom would say, “Choose. Watch with Amir. Or cook with me.”

  So I watched. And I fell in love with it—especially the way Jerry made observations over the silliest things in life. Just like Libby, so I called her Jerry whenever she did it. She always turned bright red, no matter how many times I said it.

  “All right, Elaine,” she said with a satisfied smile. Up until this point, Libby had said she’d never seen the show. I guess that had changed.

  “Ah, so you’ve watched it?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “I had to know why you were calling me that!”

  “And?”

  “It’s pretty funny. But you’re so Elaine.”

  “Really?” I asked, curious. “Why?”

  “I don’t know—the way you’re always talking about guys and stuff. She was so picky—dumped them for the smallest things. Made me wonder if she really liked guys at all.” Libby looked down at her book, her cheeks red, that familiar shade of pink that made its appearance whenever we hinted at this discussion.

  I was feeling brave. Normally, this was where the conversation would end. I’d say something sarcastic, cutting the topic off at the knees. But not tonight. Tonight I felt this driving urge to tell Libby how I felt. Finals were next week. If I was going to do this, I had to do it now. The semester was almost over, and there was no guarantee that we’d have Spanish together starting in January.

  This was my chance. I had to act.

  I wanted her. And she needed to know that.

  “Maybe she didn’t,” I said, looking directly into Libby’s icy blue eyes, which widened at my words. We held our gaze for several seconds and then I smiled, a soft, affectionate smile, begging her to feel what I was saying through that smile.

  Her chest rose up and down as her breathing deepened. “Maybe she was just…you know, confused?” She gave me a searching look. “Maybe she didn’t know what she wanted?”

  “Or maybe she did,” I said with a nod.

  Libby broke our stare, blinking rapidly, still biting her lip.

  “I, um… I’ll be right back,” she said, rising to her feet and walking to the bathroom.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. Had I misunderstood her all this time? For two months, I had been under the impression that she liked me…like, had actual feelings for me. Was it possible this was all in my head?

  I had to know. I had to find out. No more games.

  I went down the hallway, only to find her walking back to me, and said, “Libby, look—”

  “Are you serious?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

  “What?”

  I didn’t understand her. I had never been good at reading people’s emotions or intentions. That was Libby’s department, not mine. I was the clueless pseudo-lesbian who was desperate to kiss the girl who claimed her thoughts.

  “Or are you just messing with my head?” she asked, looking angry.

  “Messing with your—? I wouldn’t do that. Ever.”

  “I know you’re into guys,” she said and paused. When I said nothing, she pressed on. “Claudia, I know you’re straight.”

  “I haven’t been on a date in months,” I said. “I spend every minute I can here. With you.”

  “But you’re not—”

  “I don’t know what I am,” I interrupted. “But I know…I know how I feel about you.” I looked directly into her eyes, swallowing hard.

  “And?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “And…”

  I stepped forward. Words didn’t seem like enough; I needed to show her how I felt. I placed my hand on her cheek, noting how soft and warm it was, and she s
wallowed, her chest still heaving. I wanted to put her at ease, to show her that I felt exactly as she did. I grasped her hand and placed it on my heart, so she could feel how wildly it was pumping. Relief filled her face and she let out a nervous laugh.

  And even though I was scared to death, I kissed her. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers, and kissed her.

  Oh. My. God.

  Libby has the softest lips. Soft lips that make my stomach flip and my heart race out of control. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

  This.

  Every guy I’d ever kissed had rough, rugged lips that scratched and burned my own. Libby’s lips were soft. So very soft. I craved more of that softness, more of her.

  When she kissed me back, opening her mouth to invite me in, I stepped closer. Following her lead, I slipped my tongue inside her mouth and caressed hers. She moaned softly and placed her hand on the back of my neck.

  We kissed in that cold, dark hallway underneath multicolored Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, but it didn’t feel like a cold, dark hallway to me. It felt like my own safe haven, the place that made more sense to me than anywhere else in my life. Because Libby was kissing me, with her soft lips.

  “God, I’ve wanted to do that…for so long,” she said.

  “How long?” I asked with a smile.

  “Since the first day of Spanish.” She laughed. “You?”

  “Halloween. At the coffee shop. You changed everything that day.”

  “So…are you?” She gritted her teeth and gave me an awkward smile.

  “Like I said, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll figure that out eventually. Does that matter?”

  Libby shook her head. “No, of course not. I just, I like you so much. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to be an experiment.”

  I kissed her again forcefully on the lips. “No way. That’s not what this is, I promise.”

  “Okay,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  “Meeting you, being here with you, it’s like I’m awake, I’m alive for like the first time ever.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Wow.”

  “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Libby said.