by Lane, Bayli
“Nuh uh, I got this.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a leather black wallet and takes out a twenty-dollar bill.
“Let me pay my half?” I beg.
“I’m the one who wanted your company. I’ll pay it.” He stubbornly stands up and walks to the cash register.
“Fine, but I’m paying next time.” My stomach jumps into my throat with the idea of going out with him again. I know this wasn’t a date. It can’t be. I’m a taken woman. But still the idea of spending some more time with Colton and learning all the small things about him—like the way he sucks on his lip ring or twists his gauge in his ear when he’s thinking. Those things just excite me. They’re new. Every little movement he makes has a sensual look to it. The spark that lights his eyes whenever I say something that surprises him, the warm sound of his voice and laugh, especially when he lowers his voice—it’s all too surreal. I need to know more.
That same spark lights his eyes right now as he searches my face, “You’re not paying next time either.” He grins and then starts talking to the waitress ringing him up.
She’s a little bit older than us with blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Her smile is kind, but the way she’s looking at Colton makes me want to jump across the table and strangle her. He hands her five dollars as a tip and winks at the poor girl. Her face brightens, and I think I might have to pour some ice down her pants for her to chill the fuck out.
Colton chuckles as he watches the girls face brighten and even more when he sees me glaring at him.
“What?” he laughs.
“You know what you were doing! Are you trying to give the girl a heart attack?” My eyebrows pull together, and I push my hair out of my face.
“What exactly was I doing?” He raises an eyebrow, and the side of his mouth quirks up. Oh yeah, he knows exactly what he was doing, and he’s loving teasing me over it.
I let out an exasperated sigh, “Okay Colton. You just winked at her because you had a twitch in your eye.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs again, “Yep, that’s what it was. I had something in my eye, like a twig or a branch.”
I start laughing, “That’s from Easy A!” I laugh harder, now picturing Colton sitting in his room (which I imagine to be very dark with posters of metal bands and tattooed chicks covering the walls) watching Emma Stone play the fake slut in the movie.
“What? I can’t enjoy Easy A? Emma Stone is fucking hot.”
I wipe under my eyes to make sure there isn’t any mascara running down. I would really hate to look like a raccoon in front of this guy.
“You’re right, she is. But I’m picturing you watching that show. Come on,” I cough up another laugh, “it’s ridiculous.”
He beams at me, “I’m full of surprises.” He winks. Oh shit. He winked at me. He starts laughing when my face brightens. Instead of allowing myself to be completed humiliated for reacting much in the same way that the waitress has, I shove him.
“Stop trying to charm every girl you see.”
“I wasn’t trying. It’s all na-tur-al,” he elongates the word.
“Oh, you’re so modest.” I grin and walk to the passenger door to his car. He grabs the handle and opens the door for me.
“Madame,” he gestures towards the seat.
I giggle, “You’re crazy. You know that right?”
“I’ve been called worse.” He closes the door gently, I hit the unlock button on the inside of my door as he runs around to his side and hops in. He hooks his iPod into the radio and hands it to me, “Here. Pick something. Be warned; I will judge you for your choices,” he jokes.
“Well if I choose something terrible from your iPod, I think that says more about your taste in music, don’t’cha think?” I run my finger over the screen and start sorting through the songs before finally coming across some music I absolutely love. “Poison & Wine” by the Civil Wars. I choose it and then reach over and turn his volume up. When it starts playing, his eyes widen and he turns to me and smiles.
It feels like I just passed some sort of test, but I’m not sure exactly what test it is. Shrugging my shoulders, I lean back into my seat and get comfortable. I start tapping my foot up and down on the floorboard and strumming my fingers against my leg to the music. I close my eyes and sing along quietly to one of my favorite songs.
The song is dark and beautiful and extremely intense. If I were home, I would grab my brush and belt the words out or pretend to play the piano. The pain in their voices and in the words of the song causes my heart to hurt. I never really understand the real meaning to the song, but just hearing it my heart feels what my mind can’t understand. I don’t understand how one person can love another when they are poison. That just seems painful and unhealthy. I can’t imagine choosing someone who causes me physical or emotional pain. How could they cause pain, but still heal you? The words just seem hypocritical to me. They always have, yet, the truth in the emotion of the singers make me believe—maybe that sort of love is possible. I just don’t want it.
I’m singing along when finally the song ends and Colton reaches over and turns down the radio. I open my eyes and see him glancing at me.
“What?”
“He shakes his head and looks back out the window, concentrating on the road, “Nothing… you just have a really nice voice,” he compliments.
I giggle, and my face brightens a bit. I didn’t realize I was singing loud enough for him to hear me, “You’re being nice. But thank you.”
“I wasn’t just being nice,” he says seriously and looks over at me again. “I mean it. You have a soothing voice. I like it a lot.”
Grinning like an idiot, I turn away and look out my window watching buildings and trees speed by. I notice a sign hanging from an old convenient store’s window that reads “Dr. Pepper.” That sign is how I judge how close we are to campus. We’re almost back to my dorm, and I have a pang in my gut because I have to leave. Our time together sped by and it seems strange that our time together is over for the night. This is one of the best nights I have ever had, even with everything that happened with Sander. But all I’m allowed to hope is that Colton had as much fun as I did and wants to be my friend. My really hot, tattooed, Emma-Stone-obsessed friend.
The drive back to my dorm is relatively silent except for his iPod working through multiple genres of music. The night was fun, but the slow vibrations of the car on the road are lulling me to sleep. I perk up a little bit when the relaxing tones of Coldplay take me to Paradise, but shun the feeling. My paradise is with someone else, and that someone can’t be Colton.
We arrive at my dorm rather quickly, and I’m struck with the fact that I have no idea how to say goodbye to Colton. I just met him so I’m not sure if hugging would make since. A wave or a small smile seems a little too aquaintence-esque. I look over at him and watch his muscle twitch slightly as he puts his car in park. I bring my eyes back to his face as he turns to smile at me.
“Mind if I walk you in?” he asks. His eyes glint with questions. Is he hopeful? Maybe he doesn’t know exactly how to end this night either; fine with me. I’d rather him not leave quite yet.
“Sure,” I say softly and open the door to get out. I step onto the black asphalt and make my way around the car as he closes his door and double clicks his car keys, causing a high pitched beep to pierce the night air.
I begin leading the two of us toward the front doors and dig for my keycard to swipe on the outside door to allow us to enter. It’s not an easy task for someone who carries as much as possible even in the smallest of purses. I find it only by spilling out a small tube of lip-gloss and a tampon from the purse. My face flames, but I quickly bend over and grab the items and stuff them back into my purse. I look up, and Colton is wearing a funny smirk across his face, again trying not to laugh. I feel my face redden even more. Of course a tampon would fall from my purse.
Running my keycard across the black strip on the frame of the door, it lights up green. We walk into the com
munity lobby of the dorm, and Colton matches me step for step.
“So, what floor are you on?” he asks as I make my way to the elevator.
“Just on the second.” I press the button to go up and wait, twirling a piece of my hair in between my fingers nervously.
I can’t remember the last night someone made me feel this nervous with just their presence. It’s disconcerting. I would blame it on alcohol, but it’s been over an hour since my last drink and I didn’t have that much to begin with. I guess I could simply blame Sander for being such an ass, or maybe Colton’s for looking so dang good, or Clarissa for introducing me to Colton. Okay, I need to relax. This is not a big deal. I’m friends with lots of attractive guys, aren’t I? I try to come up with faces and names in my head, but the only face that I can picture is Colton. I look at him through the corner of eye, and he’s rubbing his chin. His fingers dance softy against a slight bit of scruff. Sander’s attractive. Sander is really attractive. But he doesn’t really count as a friend does he? I mean, he is my boyfriend—my very serious boyfriend.
The elevator finally dings and opens up. Colton gestures to the open doors in an overly dramatic fashion, “Madame,” he says gallantly.
I snigger. I’m so stupid! Of course I can be Colton’s friend! “Why thank you kind sir.” I step into the elevator, and he falls behind me and pushes the button for the second floor.
The ride is fast, I assume. But it feels like it takes forever to make it to my floor. The energy is prickling at my skin. He’s so close. When he rocks from one foot to another his arm grazes against mine, and I find that I would love for him to press more of his body against me. I hold my breath trying to fight back this ridiculous feeling. Closing my eyes I try to focus on something else, but there is nothing. His arm brushes against mine again, and I turn and look at him. He’s humming some song. I’m not sure which one, but he seems pretty content—I guess he’s not feeling the crazy energy in this small, private space. I bite my bottom lip, frustrated that I’m feeling this way and a little hurt that he seems completely unaffected by my close proximity.
“Do you think your roommate has made it home yet?” he asks as the doors open and we walk out into the hallway.
I laugh, because the idea of Lauren making it home before me is completely ludicrous. “I doubt she’ll make it home at all tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I realize I just told him she was probably having a one-night stand. But she probably is, so I don’t correct his suspicions. I shrug my shoulders, “It’s who she is,” I say.
His forehead tenses, perplexed. “What?” I question.
He shakes his head, and his hair sways, causing my breath to stick in my throat. I wonder what his hair would feel like between my fingers. “Nothing. Which way is your dorm: right or left?”
“Left,” I say and inwardly shake myself to stop fantasizing about Colton. I walk to the end of the hall and turn to the right where the door to our dorm room looms, and put my key in the door.
I open the door and step in, “Would you like to come in for a minute?”
Good job, Lilly. Make sure he knows he can’t stay longer than that. He smiles and starts to step forward but then stops and takes a giant step back. My eyes widen. What the hell was that?
“I better not.” He gives a gentle smile, “It’s getting late. I should probably head home.” He takes a small step forward at the same time I step towards him. We are even closer now than we were in the elevator. I glance up at his lips.
He looks at me for a moment, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from leaning closer and pressing my lips against his. Our gazes are locked together. One of us is the hunter while the other is the prey. The thing is, I’m unsure who plays which roll. It all depends on who makes the next move. Will he be my hunter? Will he crash and tackle into me—claiming me, making me his? Or will I be his huntress? Can I throw caution out to the wind and pounce on the glorious feast of a man in front of me? His gaze turns downward. He’s looking at my lips. I draw my bottom lip into my mouth and then let it back out, rubbing my tongue against the fleshy skin. Make the move!
His breath is strained like mine. He runs his hand through his hair, messing it up in a glorious way. He raises his head and looks into my eyes, but then I see them cloud over. It’s enough to bring me back down to Earth. Lilly, seriously, are you high?
Colton reaches up and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I stand still for a moment, lost, confused. Then I finally react. My body relaxes and I lace my arms around his back and give a gentle squeeze. I inhale in the crook of his neck. God he smells so good.
“I’ll text you tomorrow about the gig,” he says into my ear.
I nod against his chest, “Okay,” I mutter into his shirt.
Too soon he lets go, smiles at me, and then walks away. I watch as he exits through the doors leading to the stairs. I back into my room, close my door, and then fall against it until I land on the floor. I wrap my arms around my legs and place my head on my knees. What the hell was that, Lilly?
I wake Friday morning in my new dorm bed with a migraine. It doesn’t feel like a hangover, so I can only assume it’s from lack of sleep. I look over at the clock. 8:00 am. Yup. Not enough sleep. I look over to Laurens bed and see that it is still made, and she has yet to lay in it. Just as I had assumed.
I pick my phone up from beside me and see several missed phone calls from Sander and a few messages. Rolling my eyes, I call my voicemail as I make my way to our small refrigerator. I grab the orange juice as Sanders voice flows into my ear.
“What the fuck, Lilly? Where the fuck are you? I’m outside of your dorm room and you are clearly not here. So again, where the fuck are you? I swear to God if you are with another guy—you’ll regret it, Lilly!” he pauses, and I hear his rapid breathing. Jesus Christ, he’s seriously pissed off. “I don’t know what your deal was tonight, but this better not be a regular thing—do you understand me, Lilly?” he asks, which seems stupid since I can’t answer. But what the hell do I know.
I delete his voicemail with a shaking hand and throw my phone onto my bed. I’m shocked. I swear Sander has never acted like this before. We’ve always been really happy, respectful, and I would say honest with one another. Part of me wonders if this is due to the new roommate? Maybe he was just too drunk and not used to drinking that much alcohol? Yeah, that has to be it. He would never treat me like this if he were in the right state of mind.
Feeling a bit better about the circumstance, I grab my bath tote and towel and head to the communal showers.
After my shower I quickly find some clothes to wear, blow dry my hair, and sit down and turn on the television. Right now I have nothing to do. Sander is probably passed out, and I’m really not looking forward to the conversation he and I will be having. Lauren is most likely in some strange guy’s bed. I try not to think negative things about Lauren and the way she chooses to live but, jeez, that girl doesn’t hold back from sleeping with anyone. As long as she thinks they are hot—it’s on. I’ve never done anything like that. I can’t do anything like that. It’s just Sander. Yet here I sit, waiting for a text from Colton. Which is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. I feel like the circumstances of our meeting last night belongs in the dark, covered up. There’s a feeling of jealousy that Lauren can sleep with complete strangers on a regular basis, but I have to deny my impulses even when Mr. Paradise himself walks me to bed. I huff out a breath and start flipping mindlessly through the channels but find no interest or relief in anything.
I stand up and make my way to my bed, glaring at my cell phone as if it is the cause of all my problems. Why have you not rang? I pick it up and run my finger across the screen to check and make sure it’s still working. Yup, still working—still no missed texts.
I grab a book and open it up thinking this could be the perfect diversion from my thoughts. I read the first few lines, but then realize I’m simply skimming the pages and not remembering a dang thing go
ing on.
I’m going to go nuts. I turn on some music on my computer and turn it up way too loud for 9 in the morning, but at this point I couldn’t care less. I start cleaning up the room that has barely been lived in. I move books around, re-organize my desk, and hang up a few more pictures that were still packed in a box. Some depict my family, some Lauren, but mostly Sander and me. I’m glaring at the pictures like they are actually him standing in front of me. I place a pin a little too hard into the corner of the picture as I push it into the corkboard.
Then, rescuing me from myself, my phone goes off telling me I have a text message. I run to my bed excitingly. I tell myself it’s not because I’m hoping it is Colton, but I know I’m lying to myself. When I look at my phone, I’m momentarily disappointed, but still pleasantly surprised. It’s Clarissa.
Clarissa: Hey girl! Colton said u r coming 2 the gig 2night. Wanna ride with me?
I grin to myself and start texting back,
Me: That sounds great!
Clarissa: ☺ I’ll pick u up. Which dorm r u in again?
Me: Clifford Hall.
Clarissa: No prob, I’ll b there around 7.
I frown at myself; I have no idea what to wear!
Me: Clarissa, what r u going 2 wear?
Clarissa: People dress in all dif ways at this particular place. I’m wearing a jean shirt, a blouse and some boots. Don’t stress! U can dress like u did last night and where a dress or something. Or u could even wear a pair of old jeans and a tshirt—no big deal!
Me: Not very helpful, Clarissa.
Clarissa: lol! Okay okay. I’ll come over earlier and help u pick something out. Sound good?
Me: Thank God.
As we continue bantering back and forth via text message, Lauren comes falling into our room. She’s carrying her heels in her hands and her makeup makes her look like a raccoon. I stifle a laugh. She’s glaring at me, so I know she knows I’m enjoying her pain a little too much. Oh well. What are friends for?
“What the hell happened to you?” I let out a laugh.