by Sotia Lazu
She nodded. “I am. But can we go upstairs? To your bed?”
He huffed but led the way up, holding her hand until they entered his bedroom. He sat on the bed and gave her a smirk she’d never seen before. “Take off your clothes.” All traces of vulnerability were gone from his demeanor.
Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons of her top, but she managed to slip one after the other from the loops. Troy watched as she let first her top and then her skirt float to the floor. His silence added to her nervousness, but she sucked in her stomach and took off her bra.
When she stepped out of her panties and stood naked in front of him, she expected him to touch her. To let her see him.
Instead, he laid her on the bed and turned off the lights before losing his own clothes. Then he slipped in next to her and pulled the sheets over them.
Eliza never contemplated the act of sex before. She knew the basics, of course, and had watched an adult movie or two, but she’d never thought of actually doing it. She imagined it would be as described in her mom’s favorite romance novels—a merging of souls and bodies. Something that would let her reach unprecedented ecstasy.
Reality was nothing close to what she read about. The act itself wasn’t horrible, per se. Not like she had any experience to compare it to, but it felt… weird. Troy didn’t pressure her into anything; she was a willing participant. Yet everything was mechanical. Awkward. Wrong.
He kissed her and immediately covered her body with his, guiding his shaft between her legs. “This may hurt a bit,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.
When she said, “I love you,” he drove into her in one hard thrust.
The pain wasn’t splitting, but it was there, and she was afraid it would only get worse if he moved.
He didn’t, instead peppering her face with kisses. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“I’m sorry for not taking things more slowly, baby”—he kissed the tip of her nose—“but it’s the best way to keep the pain brief.”
When he withdrew and pushed back inside, she realized the pain had lessened, but if there was any ecstasy to be reached, it needed more than the handful of pumps it took for Troy to grunt, shudder, and come inside her.
Was this all? Was she a woman now? She didn’t feel different—a little sore and a whole lot sticky.
He rolled to the side, and she heard the sound of a drawer sliding open. A moment later, his palm touched her lips.
“Here, take this.”
She opened her mouth to ask what it was, and a tiny pill landed on her tongue.
“It’s that morning- after thing,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to get knocked up now, would we?”
She gagged but managed to swallow it without water. She reached for him, tried to kiss him, but he sat up.
“Did I do something wrong?” Her throat was dry and her eyes stung.
“No.” Troy chuckled and got out of bed. “I mean you didn’t do much, did you?” He turned on the light, and she saw he already had his pants on. “Do you mind if I don’t walk you to your dorm? The party I told you about is still on, and the guys will be waiting for me.”
He escorted her out the door and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll call you.”
He never called her.
On the phone, that is.
He did call her lots of things whenever he and his friends happened to see her, over the next few weeks. The theme of the inspired insults aimed at her alternated between her being an easy lay or a lousy one.
She managed to brave it all, flip them the finger, roll her eyes and walk away, but when she was alone, she’d cry and wrack her brain to figure out what she did, to deserve this kind of treatment. For a long time, she was convinced she was to blame for Troy’s transformation to an inconsiderate ass, and it ate at her.
Until Nate, of all people, made a jibe at her expense that opened her eyes to the truth.
Chapter Seven
Eliza took a long look in the mirror and wondered about the sanity of going on a date with someone who consorted with the devil’s minions—also known as Troy and Nate. To his defense, Bill always seemed to like her. He was one of the first people she met in Sweetapple Bay, and he appeared to still be a nice guy.
Plus, Krista vouched for him.
Then again, neither Eliza nor Krista was the best judge of character. Take Troy, for instance.
Eliza winced at the thought of him. It amazed her how the memories of their time together no longer hurt. Instead of lingering at what was the greatest disillusionment of her adult life, she tried to place her date for the evening into the events of the past.
Bill was always in the background, giving her shy smiles or sympathetic looks. He wasn’t in on the mocking, and that made him one of the good guys in her books.
Then again, he never tried to save her till Troy stopped acting like an asshole. Only then did Bill start talking back to Nate, when was being a jerk to her. Had to be easier for Bill to stand up to one of his friends than to two.
She shrugged and reapplied her lip-gloss. A glance at her watch told her it was time to get going.
She’d soon know if she found her mystery man.
Bill was outside the dorm’s main entrance, fidgeting with the lapels of his shirt. He turned to face Eliza the moment she walked out the glass doors, and widened his eyes when he took in her low-cut spaghetti-strap top and short flower-patterned skirt.
She hoped his expression was one of appreciation—which wasn’t why she was staring at him. He generally preferred comfort to style, so she hadn’t had high expectations concerning his attire, but the flashy Hawaiian shirt he wore wasn’t what you’d call first-date material.
She smiled, but he didn’t notice. He kept shifting his gaze to her legs.
“Short. Skirt short. Nice—” He coughed and cleared his throat. “What I tried to say before I choked on my own shoelaces was hello. You look beautiful, and my mouth has no filter.” He approached her and did an awkward little hovering thing with his arms, before settling for a half-hug, half-pat -on-the-back that could have crushed Eliza’s shoulder blade if it were a teensy bit stronger.
His greetings were no more his strong point than his fashion sense was, but he was kind of cute.
He toed the dirt with his sneaker. “Since Krista set this up, I’ve been trying to come up with the perfect place. I wanted to take you somewhere nice, but keep it fresh. Not do the whole cliché dinner-and-a-movie thing.”
“And what did you decide on?”
He grinned, and a dimple formed on his left cheek. Cute. “Movie and surprise late dinner. Do you mind walking? I tried to borrow my cousin’s car, but he had a hot date. Not that you’re not hot. You’re pretty. And the skirt—” He raised his face to the evening sky. “God, I need more practice at this. Or a bolt of lightning. That might be preferable.”
She laughed and linked her arm through his. “Nothing to practice, Bill. Unless you need lessons in walking, in which case, put one foot in front of the other and lead the way.”
Chatting with him was easy, relaxed, as she discovered during their twenty-minute walk to the movies, where Bill gleefully pointed her to a showing of Barbarella. He was shocked she’d never seen it. She was shocked he chosen a movie that was supposedly all about sex on their first date, but reluctantly agreed to give it the benefit of the doubt.
By the time the movie was over, Eliza had to agree it was a classic, and couldn’t stop laughing at Bill’s gushing over Jane Fonda at her best. On the way out of the theater, she casually held out her hand, but he was too engrossed by the posters announcing soon-to-come flicks to notice.
On their way to dinner, they started talking about superheroes and favorite childhood cartoons. It was Bill’s favorite subject, and she found his exuberance refreshing.
It was when they reached their destination that Eliza got worried. The park at night? Bill might have something other than a romantic first date in mind, a
nd judging by his friends…
He must have sensed her unease, because he patted her hand and unlocked it from his arm. “It’s a picnic.” He pointed at a huge tree. “See?”
She did see, once she knew where to look. By the root of the tree lay a checkered blanket, a big wicker basket on its center. With a sigh of relief, she followed Bill to the spot he’d chosen for their date, and offered to help set things up.
“No need; I’m the man.” He thumped his chest. “I can handle it.”
It soon became obvious he couldn’t.
He brought two long red candles out of the basket, and then looked around dejectedly.
“What?” Eliza followed his gaze but didn’t see something amiss.
“I didn’t bring candleholders.”
“I doubt they’d stand on the blanket, even if you had.
Mike huffed. “I’m the epitome of suave, huh? But fear not, my fair lady”—he gave her an exaggerated bow—“for I am a man of many talents.”
Eliza chuckled and watched him try to inch one of the candles into the ground next to the blanket. He was going about it wrong, shoving it in instead of screwing it in. Before she could warn him, the candle broke in two, the pieces held together by the wick.
“Argh. I give up.” He tossed both the broken and the intact candle into the basket. “Not like I remembered to get matches.” His face fell with disappointment.
Eliza felt sorry for him. “The streetlights are bright enough for us to enjoy our meal and each other’s company,” she said.
That last bit, each other’s company, turned Bill’s frown upside down. He motioned toward the woolen throw on the ground. “After you, Milady.”
The night chill was creeping up Eliza’s bare legs, and the blanket looked warm and fuzzy, so she happily did as he bade. Two things became evident when she squatted down, though. First, her strappy sandals were more for show than for walking. The heel of the right one gave way, sending her flying backward and taking away any shred of grace that might be involved in trying to sit on the ground while wearing a short skirt. Second, when one decided to go on a picnic, one had better made sure they chose a spot that was dry.
Sudden falls have the unpleasant side effect of sending a flowing skirt upward, and Eliza’s naked ass landed on the soggy cover with a wet smack.
Bill winced. He’d managed to sit down cross legged, without spilling a drop from either of the two glasses he filled before trying to take a seat, but he had no free hand to help her up. Instead he squirmed, opening and closing his mouth.
“My side is dry,” he finally blurted.
“I bet it is.” Eliza assessed the damage to her shoe. Glad the heel wasn’t broken, she tried to bring her knees under her and move off the yuckiness without flashing Bill. The desire to glare at him was squashed by how helpless he looked.
His spine went ramrod straight, and his right arm spasmed, as if he started raising it to smack his forehead but then remembered the full glass in his hand. He was either having a stroke or an idea.
“Here.” So it was the latter. He held out both glasses to her. “We’ll move the whole thing toward the road. It’s bound to be less humid and better lit there.” He winked.
To be honest, Eliza was done with the date. She no longer felt hungry, just tired. And she wanted to dry her butt as soon as possible. Bill’s hopeful tone made her decide to brave it out a little longer. If nothing else, he was nice, and he tried.
She reached for the glasses but miscalculated the distance. Or maybe Bill moved. Eliza watched in horror, as liquid splashed the front of his jeans, all the way down to mid-thigh.
“Incredibly, I feel like less of an ass now.” He chuckled.
His good mood was contagious, and when he found his footing and helped her up, Eliza was grinning.
Unfortunately, the next place they decided on didn’t make things better.
Eliza was straightening the blanket—they’d share the dry side—when she felt a tickle on her ankle. Then along the side on her foot. She squinted and made out two tiny black shapes skittering around. More joined them. “Ants. They’re all over me.” She swatted at them but felt more climbing up her calf.
Bill looked around bewildered. “Shit. There’s an anthill right next to you.”
Eliza hopped away from it and jumped from one foot to the other, brushing her skirt with her palms, to get rid of any more miniscule invaders.
“I think we’re good.” Bill touched her arm, but she wouldn’t stop checking herself.
She shook her hair loose despite his assurance that there was no way the creepy crawlies could have gotten into it. “I don’t care. I can feel them everywhere.”
His gaze zeroed in on her cleavage.
“So not the right time,” she snapped
But now he pointed too.
She looked down and had to cross her eyes before she picked out the moving black spot on her top, racing toward her skin. “Get it off,” she shrieked, but panic kept her from holding still while Bill made every valiant effort to remove the threat without groping her.
She shrieked again when the fifth-of-an-inch monster set foot on the swell of her breast.
Bill was pulling on the material at the front of her top, when Eliza saw a handbag flying toward his head.
The old lady attached to its handle started raining blows on all parts of his anatomy and calling him a pervert. Bill tried hard to fend off the blows without harming the woman, while Eliza kept telling her there was a misunderstanding.
When Eliza’s words finally sunk in, the woman turned to her. “I should have known you’re a slut, putting out in parks. A good girl wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night, looking like this.” She indicated Eliza’s cleavage and short skirt that exposed more skin now than when she put them on. As Eliza sputtered indignantly, the woman gave Bill’s back one last swing and headed for the road, muttering about today’s youth.
Even if the date could have survived that, it started raining. It was by no means a storm, but enough of a drizzle to ruin any chance of a picnic.
Eliza returned Bill’s defeated look. “What did you bring for dinner?”
“Hotdogs,” he mumbled.
“We can eat them, on the way back. I really need to lose this skirt.” It clung to her wet ass and thighs and made her wince with every step.”
Bill nodded and handed her a hot dog. “There’s more where this came from. I hope you like them with mustard and cheese sauce.”
“Sounds perfect.”
They dug in while they walked side by side in silence that was only interrupted when Bill showed her how he could down half a hot dog in one bite. And choked on it.
All in all, the evening was fun. Not the sort of fun a girl would like to have with the one, but the sooner Bill took her to the dorm, the sooner Eliza’d find out if he really was said one. And if he was? Well, they’d get plenty of chances to share the perfect moonlit dinner in the park.
She paid no heed to the small voice in the back of her mind that insisted she’d feel some attraction to him, if he was her kisser-in-the-dark. It wasn’t like she was attracted to any of the guys close to her that night at The Zoo.
Again she ignored the little voice calling her a liar.
Outside her dorm, she turned to face Bill, who was wiping mustard off his upper lip. “Thank you,” she said. “It was fun.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Billy-boy is all about the fun.” He sounded sad, and she knew then that she’d kiss him anyway, to make him smile.
“Goodnight.” She climbed to the third step and leaned into him, waiting for him to close the distance.
Bill reflexively pulled back, however, making her stumble and fall forward. To steady her, he closed his arms around her waist in an awkward grasp. Their faces were half an inch apart.
He wasn’t going to kiss her. He was too shy. So she kissed him, seeking in the touch of his lips a glimpse of the soul-shaking sensations the stranger’s lips evoked in her a fe
w nights ago.
All she felt was a hint of pork and mustard.
Bill made no effort to deepen the kiss, and Eliza pulled away, masking her disappointment behind a forced grin. “It was fun,” she said.
“The kind disaster movies are based on,” Bill replied.
She was about to say something else, when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Nate was walking their way. What was he doing here? He no longer lived on campus, and there were no classes at this hour.
Nate avoided her gaze, but she didn’t need to look him in the eye, to know he was up to no good.
“Your friend’s here,” she told Bill, nodding toward the bane of her existence.
Bill turned and groaned.
“I’ll go,” Eliza said.
“Yeah—”
“See you around.” She didn’t wait around for him to say goodnight.
* * * *
Krista ambushed her at the door. “How was it? Is it him?” She threw a quick glance at her watch and went on, not giving Eliza time to reply. “Uh-oh. You’re back early. Why are you back early?” She started pacing, inadvertently blocking Eliza from getting to her bed and taking her sandals off.
“Krissy—” Eliza tried sidestepping her, but to no avail. For a tiny girl, Krista sure took up space.
“Unless you’re back early, and he’s on his way up, but you came first to tell me to get out of here so you two could have some private time to—”
Eliza glared. “Finish that sentence and die.”
“That bad?”
“Pork and mustard.” Eliza threw her hands up in the air, as if that explained everything.
It was enough. Deflated, Krista dropped onto her bed. “Hotdogs? On the first date? I thought he knew better.”
“Yeah…” Finally rid of the sandals, Eliza grimaced. “Yuck. Mud.”
“In the hotdogs?”
“On my feet.” She looked at her hand in disgust. Mud had gotten under her nails.
“But the hotdogs were good?” It was just like Krista to ignore the gagging sounds her roommate made, and focus on the important stuff.