Wanderlust

by Thea Dawson

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere yet. Plenty of time for you to get tired of me.”

  He took my chin in his hand, leaned over the counter, and kissed me, long and deep. I was glad the coffee shop was empty.

  “I’ll never get tired of you,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  Chapter 3

  Jason

  It was emailing her over Christmas break that did it.

  Until I met Monica, I’d been too shy around girls to get anywhere. But when we started emailing, and then calling, I was able to open up and relax with her in a way that I couldn’t have done in person. I told her about my crazy parents and their awful divorce, I told her how my high school swim team had been like my family instead, and how I hoped that my fraternity would be like that, too. She told me about her family, her sisters who drove her crazy, even though she loved them, and her over-protective parents.

  When she told me about doing her junior year abroad, I didn’t worry about it. I barely even thought about it. I was so happy, so crazy about her, that it never occurred to me that anything could change. That inevitably, something would have to change.

  We dated, went to parties and formals, and studied, more or less in that order. Her sorority and my fraternity had a close relationship, so we were thrown together at parties and games and fundraisers anyway. We were popular in a steady, reliable way: we were both good at being there for other people, we partied without going overboard, and we kept our grades up in tandem with our social lives.

  Just a couple of weeks after our talk at the coffee shop, we took the next big step. The weather had been unpredictable, sunny one moment, hailing or storming the next. We’d seen the skies start to get darker, but we’d been dawdling on the quad after lunch, holding hands and flirting.

  Then the skies opened up, and within a minute we were both soaked to the skin. We ran hand in hand to my dorm room, which was closer than hers. By the time we got there, we were both laughing and shivering and soaking wet. My roommate had a lab that afternoon, and of course, my first thought was that we had the room to ourselves for at least a couple of hours.

  “Let’s get you out of those wet things before you catch cold,” I suggested.

  She saw right through me, of course, and laughed. “Uh huh. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  I unzipped her hoodie and peeled it off her. “Your health and safety are my top concern,” I said, smiling.

  “Right!” She laughed again, but in that moment, I knew it was true: sure, I hoped this would end up with something sexy, but it was more than that. Her well-being really was my top concern.

  I stepped back. “Okay, out of those wet things. I’ll put everything in the dryer downstairs and you can have a t-shirt.” I rummaged around and found a t-shirt and a halfway clean towel.

  She looked surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, but she peeled off her wet clothes while I turned my back. By this time, we’d done almost everything except actually have sex, but she still wasn’t comfortable being undressed in front of me, which I found both sort of ridiculous and sort of adorable. I changed into shorts and a dry shirt myself, grabbed our wet clothes and a few quarters and took everything down to the laundry room.

  When I got back, she’d slipped into my bed, but the t-shirt was on the floor and I could just see her bare shoulders peeking out from under the comforter. She’d spread the towel over my pillow. I looked at her wet hair fanning across it. “You look like a mermaid.”

  She smiled. “I can do things a mermaid can’t do.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged and smiled suggestively. “You’ll have to come closer so I can show you.”

  I sat down at the edge of the bed. I lifted a corner of the towel and dried her face a bit. “I hear you mermaids are dangerous. You could lure me to my doom with this beautiful hair of yours.”

  She laughed. “The point is I’m not a mermaid. Lie down and I’ll show you.”

  “I bet that’s what all you mermaids say,” I said, slipping under the covers. I put my arms around her naked body and kissed her. She was still shivering and I held her tightly. “Someone needs to warm you up.”

  “Someone is warming me up,” she replied, her voice husky.

  I nuzzled her neck. “So what can you do that a mermaid doesn’t?”

  “Let me show you,” she whispered. She took my hand and guided it down between her legs, which she parted slowly. She’d never been this bold before, and I found it wildly exciting. “A mermaid doesn’t have one of these,” she said, moving my hand slowly up and down her clit. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flushed. She was definitely warming up.

  I continued to stroke her gently, letting my finger dip occasionally into her silky, increasingly wet folds. She was breathing faster now, her eyes still closed. I leaned up on my elbow and took her all in. Her full lips were parted. The blanket was pulled back enough to expose her flat stomach, the curve of her waist and her small, firm breasts.

  I leaned down and took one of her nipples into my mouth and sucked gently. I heard her pull in her breath sharply and felt her nipple harden and swell between my lips. I began to stroke her more firmly. She tensed beneath me and began to move her hips rhythmically. I was increasingly turned on, but I could tell she was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop what I was doing.

  I pulled back just enough to circle her nipple with my tongue and blew on it. She moaned.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  I moved to her other nipple. I sucked it for a moment then gently bit it. She made a noise between a squeal and groan. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, worried.

  “Don’t stop,” she repeated. “Just please don’t stop what you’re doing.”

  I alternated stroking her clit with my thumb and pushing more and more deeply into her with my forefinger. I took her nipple in my mouth again, alternating sucking with little nips.

  She began to babble in a hoarse whisper. “Oh, this is amazing. Please don’t stop. I love you so much, oh God, this is just … Kiss me, please kiss me.”

  I shook my head, even though her eyes were still closed. “I want to see you when you come,” I whispered back. “Come for me.”

  And she did. She gasped and arched her back. I felt her walls tighten around my finger, and I plunged it more deeply into her. Her breath came in sharp little gasps, then a long moan, then a drawn out sigh of satisfaction.

  She lay in my arms for a moment, her eyes still closed, catching her breath. I was insanely turned on, but I knew this was the most intense sexual experience she’d ever had, and I didn’t want to push her. Finally, I said, “It seems sort of unfair that I still have all my clothes on.”

  She nodded. “It’s totally unfair,” she breathed out. I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “What should we do about it?”

  “I want to go all the way.”

  I froze. It would be the first time for both of us. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and opened her eyes to look at me, her face still glowing. “I am so sure. I love you. I really want to do this.”

  I shucked off my t-shirt and gym shorts in seconds. I’d optimistically bought some condoms earlier in the semester when we’d started to fool around in earnest. I pulled one out of the side table and put it on, then rolled to my side, pressing her against me. My erection pressed against her stomach. I took a deep, nervous breath. “So what else makes you different from a mermaid?”

  “I have legs,” she answered.

  “Better for walking around on dry land, I guess.”

  “Better from wrapping around your waist, too,” she replied. And with that, she pulled me over on top of her and did just that.

  I pushed into her as gently as I could manage. She was tight, but so warm, so wet, so ready. I started off slowly, afraid of hurting her, but as my thrusts began to build momentum, she began to move against me and to make those little gasping noises that made me wonder if she’d be able to
come again. Just as I reached my climax, she reached hers, not as intensely this time, but even so, the feel of her pulsing and trembling beneath me brought me to a state of ecstasy I could never have imagined until then.

  We lay next to each other for a long time, suspended in a state of bliss halfway between sleep and wakefulness. The rain continued to sluice against the window. It was only two-thirty in the afternoon, but it was almost dark out.

  “It’s a real frogstrangler out there,” Monica murmured drowsily.

  I broke the blissful spell by laughing out loud. “A frogstrangler? Is that what people in Minnesota call it?”

  “You got a problem with that, buster?”

  “I just think it’s funny. It’s a great word.” I smiled. “Everything about you is great.” I sighed with deep contentment. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” she murmured.

  Chapter 4

  Monica

  Freshman year ended with the two of us mourning the impending summer apart. As soon as I got back to Minnesota, I began lobbying my parents to let Jason come visit us. They said yes, apparently eager to meet this New Yorker I couldn’t stop talking about.

  To my relief, they liked him. Which didn’t really surprise me, of course. He was charming, good looking and, most importantly, he doted on me. My parents could tell how much he cared about me, so they were willing to overlook the fact that he wasn’t from the Midwest.

  Jason took to the outdoorsy life almost immediately. We went on hikes and picnics with my family. I showed Jason how to kayak, and my dad taught him how to drive our motorboat. He impressed my mother with his willingness to help around the house, never missing a chance to put dishes in the dishwasher or make his bed.

  The downside, of course, was that we had even less privacy than we had in college. At night, we slept chastely in separate rooms. During the day, we stole kisses whenever we could, with my little sister, Lauren, spying on us and teasing us whenever we weren’t discreet enough.

  The day before he left for home, Jason and I snagged the rowboat and rowed across the lake behind our house to a tiny island in the middle. I’d packed us a picnic, but the opportunity was too good to miss. No sooner than we’d spread the blanket out in the small clearing, we were spread out on it ourselves, tearing each other’s clothes off and trying to make up for a summer’s worth of celibacy. It was only five weeks before we’d see each other again at college, but it felt like it would be a lifetime.

  We murmured all kinds of endearments and promises to each other as we lay on the scratchy wool blanket, listening to the lapping sounds of the water, and smelling the earth and the pine needles.

  I thought it would last forever.

  But the trouble started not long after we got back to college.

  *****

  Early into our second week back, Jason asked me to meet him for coffee one morning, and I told him I had to go meet with my advisor instead.

  “What are you meeting with her about?” he asked.

  “I have to start thinking about next year. I’m probably going to Paris, but there’s also an option for Lyon.”

  He stared at me.

  “You know, junior year abroad?” I reminded him.

  “You’re not seriously going to go and leave me for a whole year, now, are you?”

  I glanced at him. He wasn’t smiling. “Well, it’s not for another year,” I said, half playful, half exasperated.

  “But … you can’t. I’m mean, you don’t have to, do you?”

  I squeezed his hand. “I really have to run. Catch you at dinner?”

  He nodded and gave me a quick kiss, then we headed off in our separate directions.

  Several weeks went by before the topic came up again. We were at a fraternity party when Rebecca, another French major, suddenly turned and asked, “Well, Paris or Lyon? Have you made up your mind yet?”

  I saw a dark look cross Jason’s face, but I ignored him and turned to Rebecca. “Paris, I think. Everything about the program sounds great. And hey, it’s Paris! Can’t beat that, right?”

  “Bummer! I’m going to Lyon. I like the sound of their homestay program. But maybe we can meet up while we’re there.”

  “Yeah, I think the program does a couple of meet ups over the year—”

  “I’m going to go get another beer,” Jason interrupted. “You want one?”

  I looked at him. He didn’t look pleased at the way the conversation was going. “No, I’m good, thanks,” I replied, surprised by his reaction. He stalked off while I barely listened to Rebecca chatter about all the fun we were going to have in France.

  For the next few weeks, I avoided bringing up my trip around Jason. I simply tried not to think about it at all. It was still a long way off. I was sure he’d come around eventually, and in the meantime, I didn’t want to rock the boat.

  One cold, rainy evening in mid-November we were sitting in my dorm room, doing homework. My roommate was at the library. After an hour or so of silence, Jason stretched and came over to sit next to me on my bed.

  “Watchya working on?” he asked.

  I couldn’t hide it, and I didn’t want to avoid talking about any longer. “I’m filling out a passport application,” I replied.

  I could feel him tense up beside me, then he sighed and began rubbing my back. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”

  I saved my form and shut my laptop.

  “You can’t leave me for a whole year,” he said. “The summer was bad enough. I can’t stand the thought of you not being here.”

  I snuggled closer to him. “Why don’t you come with me? You and me in Paris for a year. Can you think of anything more romantic?”

  “I don’t know any French,” he replied.

  “There are other programs you could apply to that are more geared for beginners,” I pointed out. “We could still be in Paris together, even if we weren’t on the same program.”

  “I’m a business major. How’s it going to look if I skip off to France for a year?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s just silly.”

  “What’s silly? That I’m serious about my career?”

  “It’s silly to say that you can’t study abroad because you’re a business major—like there isn’t a global economy, or multi-national corporations, or American companies that do business in France. It might actually be good for your resume if you did something different. You should try something new.”

  He shook his head. “But things are going so well here,” he said.

  “You’re not very adventurous.” I regretted the words as soon as I saw the look of hurt that crossed his face. I changed tactics. “Maybe you could come for just one semester if you’re really worried. Come in the spring so we’ll have something to look forward to.” I smiled at him and took his hand in mine. “Ple-e-ease?” I said in the singsongy voice that could usually get him to do anything I wanted.

  But he wasn’t buying it. “I’d lose my swimming scholarship,” he pointed out.

  There was a long silence. I wasn’t sure what to say about that.

  “Look, I’m serious, Lefty. I couldn’t stand being away from you all summer, and that was barely three months. We have a good thing going here. Don’t ruin it.”

  I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. It had never occurred to me that he wouldn’t wait for me. Now I realized that maybe I was selfish to expect that he would. “I could come home at Christmas,” I offered in a small voice. It would be a stretch financially, but I would have done it.

  He shook his head. “That’s just a couple of weeks. And you’d be in Minnesota anyway.”

  I pulled away from him and looked him in the eye. I was torn between feeling guilty for hurting him and angry that he wasn’t being more supportive. “I have to go,” I said.

  “You don’t have to,” he said, sounding angry now. “There’s no requirement for you to go. You can get all your credits done here.”

  “Half the rea
son I came to college here was because of the study abroad program,” I argued. “Besides, I want to go. Don’t you want to travel? See things, do things you can’t do here?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked deeply into mine. I could see how serious he was. “Everything I want is right here, in this room, on this bed.” He sat up and took me in his arms, holding me tightly. “Please, don’t go,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll take you to Paris on our honeymoon.”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak. I was afraid I’d burst into tears. Too many emotions were swirling around inside me—guilt, anger, love … and something else.

  Excitement. The desire to break away, have an adventure, do something new and different.

  I regained control of myself and pulled gently away from him. “I’m going, Jason. I’ll be back in a year. I’d love it if you waited for me, but if you can’t, I understand. I’d love it even more if you came with me. But one way or another, I’m going.”

  He nodded and looked away, his mouth set in a hard line.

  And that’s when things started to change.

  Chapter 5

  Jason

  Her enormous brown eyes were as sad as I’d ever seen them, but I knew she was going. And I knew there was no way I could stop her.

  Would I have lost my swimming scholarship if I’d gone away for a semester? I don’t know; I never actually looked into it. Would a semester abroad have looked good on my resume? Probably. It certainly wouldn’t have hurt.

  But at the time, all I could see was black and white. I loved college and I loved Monica. I loved her big, friendly family, so different from my own parents, who couldn’t be in the same room without finding something to fight about. I even loved her annoying little sister, who spied on us when we tried to make out. And I loved college: the social life, the parties, the classes, the opportunities.

  Monica leaving halfway through her degree for an entire year just wasn’t in the plan. Change could only be bad. I felt the ground dissolving beneath my feet, as all my assumptions about the future began crumbling.