Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  “A dancing college student, and it’s important that my nails look nice. Dance is the only art in which our bodies are the art itself.”

  “Sure, sure. What about drama? Aren’t those guys’ bodies the art too.”

  She pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. Sit here on the bed and let me do your feet first.” She patted the bed next to her desk. I took off my shoes and socks. She picked up my feet, shook her head, and got to work on my feet with a determined look and something that looked like a cheese grater.

  Chapter Nineteen

  David

  I made some last adjustments to my hair, sprayed on a little Sauvage, and shrugged on my dress shirt. I buttoned it up and put on the cuff links my mother had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday. Cuff links were already out of fashion when she gave them to me, but I didn’t care. They were one of the few pieces of jewelry a man could wear without looking cheesy or counter-culture. Cuff links and a nice watch made an elegant statement. I pulled the sleeves tight and slipped the bow tie around my neck and tied it. Another piece of clothing that had started to take on a different connotation, but still a black bow tie and well-cut tuxedo was a sharp look. I slid my arms into the jacket and gave myself one last inspection. I was one handsome dude—a fit escort for B.D. who undoubtedly would look stunning. Normally I would be ensuring she would look stunning too, but tonight Wendy had stepped in, so I could close down the tutoring center and get ready myself. As a runway model, Wendy knew what to do to take advantage of B.D.’s looks. I’m not sure why she let B.D. run around looking like a deranged kindergartner before I came on the scene, but she was on board now. She had given B.D. some good advice not just on what clothes to wear, but how to style her hair without the use of a scrunchy. I’m sure she would do right by my girl.

  I loaded my pockets with my wallet, phone, and dorm key, so I wouldn’t jangle when I walked. I felt bad asking B.D. to walk the block to the Carillon in heels, but it seemed silly to get a cab to go a block—three if we went around the long way—and I didn’t want to drive or pay to park in a garage that was two blocks from where I was already parked. B.D. said she didn’t mind, but I wish I had arranged with someone who was driving from further away to pick us up. I took the elevator to her floor. Wendy opened the door and stepped aside when I knocked. I walked in and there was B.D. examining herself in the mirror. She was gorgeous, simply gorgeous. Wendy had styled her auburn hair in a low chignon that fell part way down her nape. Small tendrils of hair escaped to frame her face. Wendy had also used a make-up pallet and nail polish in a maroon color that brought out the purple undertones in her hair and skin just like the dress did. Her eyes looked gigantic and were intensely green. She wore simple rhinestone drop earrings and a matching necklace that was just a line of rhinestones that accented her cleavage. On her wrist she wore a three strand bracelet of beautiful pearls. She wore the burgundy dress my mother had sent back with me at Thanksgiving. It was layers of ruched, diaphanous fabric hugging her curves without clinging to them. The back and front were cut low, but not scandalously. The skirt floated down almost to her feet which peeked out clad in silver, strappy heels. As I looked her over, she turned to me, smiled, and twirled. “How do I look?” she asked shyly.

  “Like a vision in a dream. You’re gorgeous. Not sure if you should stoop to be seen with me.”

  “Oh, you” she punched me in the arm hard enough that I had to step back to keep my balance. “You look like you just stepped out of a GQ.”

  I rubbed my arm. “Maybe.” I grinned at her like a fool. “Ready? It’s a little cold. Do you have something for you arms? It’s a bit nippy outside.”

  “Wendy came through for me.” She picked up a beautiful gray shawl embroidered with silver flowers and dripping with silver fringe. Then she picked up the Valentino purse that my mother had given her. It made for the perfect ensemble. She twirled again.

  “Isn’t it great how everything looks so perfect? Like we planned it, but it just came together. I feel like a bride. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m wearing my mother’s bracelet,” she waved the pearl bracelet at me. “My father gave it to her when I was born, so that counts as old. The dress and shoes are new. I borrowed the shawl. And the best part.” She pulled up her skirt to reveal a blue ribbon running along the front of the garters that held up her stockings. She gave me a wink and dropped her skirt. She held out her arm for me to take it. “I’m ready.”

  I wove her hand into the crook of my arm. “Let’s go.” I smiled at her but shook my head when she looked back to wave good-bye to Wendy. How was I ever going to let go of this girl?

  *

  Inside the Carillon ballroom, people milled around chatting. Waiters circulated the room with cliched hors d'oeuvres like mini-quiches and stuff wrapped in bacon, but I did love bacon. B.D. and I wandered over to the bar. I snagged one of the glasses of champagne lining the bar and B.D. opted for some kind of non-alcoholic Christmas punch. We ran into Hunter Caldwell with yet another blond wearing too much make-up and not enough clothes that he’d hauled over from College Station. Caldwell introduced her as Tiffany.

  I shook Tiffany’s hand when Caldwell introduced us. “How was the drive over?”

  Tiffany giggled, “Fine.”

  “We didn’t hit any cattle on the way over if that’s what you mean, Slade,” Caldwell added. Tiffany giggled even louder.

  Then B.D. tried to engage Tiffany. “So Tiffany, are you a student too? What’s your major?”

  Tiffany looked a little confused and looked to Caldwell for direction. Caldwell nodded clearly encouraging Tiffany to converse with another woman.

  Tiffany tossed some hair over her shoulder and answered in a much lower voice, “Interior design. After I’m married, I want to be able to make a beautiful home for my husband and myself.”

  “I see,” replied B.D. “You don’t have any plans to set-up you own design firm.”

  “I guess I might if I get bored, but I don’t want to interfere with my family life. I’m sure my husband will have a demanding career, and I want to be there to support him and take care of our children.

  “Okaaaay,” now B.D. turned to me to carry the conversation.

  “So, Caldwell how’d your semester go?” I asked.

  “Fine, great. Another 4.0 to add to the transcript. I got my graduate school applications all lined up, and I just got my final GRE scores back. Not only did I get a perfect 800 on the math, I still got in the 80th percentile on the verbal and a 4.5 on the writing. Got your GRE scores back yet?”

  “No,” David cleared his throat. “I don’t have them back, but I took them late. I expect to get my scores any day now. I’ve got my applications ready to go too. Most of the schools I’m applying to have an early January application deadline.”

  “Mine too. I’m sure we’re applying to the same schools. Where are you applying?”

  “I thought I’d try Stanford, MIT, Yale.”

  “Same. I might try a few more schools.”

  “Good for you.” I gave Caldwell a tight smile, but we both knew what we were thinking. We were competing for the same slots and the same funding. Caldwell’s Dad was a neurosurgeon. He wasn’t hurting for funds. He never worked in the tutoring center. He didn’t need an athletic scholarship or even the Fineman to pay for school. He could afford to go wherever he got in, and he didn’t need a stipend. He still applied for and accepted the Fineman. And he’ll take any graduate funding he gets offered even though he doesn’t need it. Without funding, I couldn’t go to graduate school. Caldwell was such a jerk! He would take a free-ride just for the prestige, so he could lord it over the rest of us.

  “Good luck,” Caldwell offered and clapped me on the back.

  “Yeah, good luck to you, too,” I answered then saw that guy…Kevin… from Hurricane waving to me. “Someone wants to chat. I’ll catch you later, Hunter.” I nodded at Tiffany, �
�Nice to meet you Tiffany.” She giggled and shrugged in my direction. I grabbed B.D.’s hand and headed in Kevin’s direction. B.D. shouted “Bye,” in Caldwell and Tiffany’s direction as I drug her across the room. Honestly, I couldn’t get away from Caldwell fast enough.

  Kevin stuck his hand out as I approached. “Nice to see you again,” he opened while vigorously shaking my hand.

  “B.D. meet Kevin. Kevin meet my girlfriend, B.D. She’s a Fineman scholar too.” I gestured toward B.D. Kevin broke off from pumping my hand to pumping B.D.’s.

  “Smart and beautiful, I see,” Kevin said while looking B.D. up and down. I cleared my throat.

  “I’m glad I met up with you. Think you’ve got time to do some rush programming for us over the break?”

  “Sure, I don’t have much going on.”

  “We’re trying to program some explosions with flying projectiles and the programmer for that section of the game took another job. We’ve got a tight deadline, and Jim said you had done some good work for us in the past.”

  “Sure, it’s interesting, and school’s out for a month. What’s the turn around?”

  “We’d want the sub-routine in three weeks.”

  I whistled. That was tight, but since I was at loose ends after Monday, I could probably swing it. “It’s tight, but I can probably do it, because of the break. I’m busy Monday, but I could probably meet you on Tuesday.”

  “Great!” He replied a bit too eagerly. I could see his shoulders visibly relax. He reached inside his coat pocket, grabbed his card case, and gave me his card. I pulled out one of the cards I had shoved inside my coat for just such an occasion. He carefully took my card and read my name and e-mail address. I could see him moving his lips.

  “Are you free on Tuesday?” I asked.

  “Anytime.”

  “Let’s make it 10 am,” I suggested. “ I want to sleep in a bit. And we need to get the details narrowed down soon. They kick me out of the dorm on Friday.”

  “I’m sure we can finalize what we need in just one meeting. I’m really glad I ran into you.”

  “Good, but why didn’t you just get my info from Trent?”

  “He left the company, and he purposely kept your contact information to himself. He didn’t even tell Jim. He didn’t want any other groups poaching you. The only reason I knew to look here for you is because we met at the fall banquet. And I, on the other hand, will not be so stingy with my resources. I’ll share your name around. I’m sure you’ll have all the work you want.”

  “Great! I’m always up for interesting work.”

  “I’ll see you Tuesday at 10am. “

  “10am. Can I just park in the visitor parking?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll put your name on the visitor list. Just come into the building and get a parking pass and temporary badge, and they’ll ping me to come down and meet you.”

  “Got it. See you then.”

  Kevin ran his hands through his hair and said, “Until Tuesday.” He nodded good-bye to me and then to B.D. Then he turned around and left the ballroom.

  “Wow, I think he just came to get in touch with you,” B.D. said in a slightly impressed voice.

  “Looks like he did,” I shrugged. “He’s got my info now, and I can already use a little extra cash especially when all I have to give up is some video game playing over the break. He caught me at the right time.”

  “Will you have time to finish your grad applications?”

  “They’re almost finished, although I might have to beg off tomorrow, so I can finish off my essays.”

  “Sure, sure. Wendy wanted to go to Fredricksburg tomorrow anyway, and I know all that cute stuff makes you want to gag.”

  “I’m not a fan of country anything, and the cow skulls, steel lone stars, and barn wood gets to me.”

  “We’ll have a girls shopping day, and you can stay cooped up in your room—or the tutoring center—and finish off those essays. I’ll read them for you Monday if you want.”

  “It’s a plan. Just don’t make plans with someone else for Sunday night. I’ll need a little B.D. TLC to recover from my long day of B.S.”

  “What do you mean? I’m sure your college essays will be an honest, heart felt expression of all the many ways you’ll change life as we know it through physics.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I’ll still need some TLC.”

  “You’re in luck,” B.D. answered with a lascivious grin. “I just so happen to have a little extra TLC to give.”

  I winked at her then handed her my half finished champagne glass as I lifted another off the tray of a passing waiter. Just then the master of ceremonies stepped up to the mike and encouraged everyone to find their seat because dinner was about to be served.

  I located our place at the IBM table once again. We took our place and reacquainted ourselves with Jim, met a few new IBMers, and nodded at Dr. Welch and his wife. Dr. Hrezecovic was not at our table, because she was the keynote speaker. She was sitting on the dais, but she had already promised us that her talk would discuss her work, but briefly.

  As the waiters placed plates of roast beef or pasta in front of everyone, the master of ceremonies laid out the evening’s events. After dinner, he would present the awards to various achievers in the field of physics. Adults got their awards at this dinner. Students got awards at the spring luncheon in May. After the awards, we would hear from Dr. Hrezecovic. Then we would all mingle while a DJ encouraged us to dance with eighties music. The master of ceremonies didn’t put it that way, but that’s what I envisioned. Then he sweetened the deal. During the eighties music we could opt to join several tour guides that would take us up to the top of the tower. It had been closed for years, but the school had recently opened it for supervised tours. Clearly we would have the opportunity to join one. I hoped B.D. was up for it in her heels. I had always wanted to see the view from the tower which was supposed to be amazing. This tour would be my first chance to get up there.

  As soon as the master of ceremonies stopped talking, B.D. put down her fork, which meant she was serious. B.D. would never interrupt a good spread like this one if it wasn’t important. She turned to me and stated in a serious voice, “We’re going to the top of tower.”

  “I thought we would. I’ve always wanted to go.” I should have known that B.D. wouldn’t let inappropriate footwear get in the way of adventure.

  She squealed, “I’ve always wanted to go to top of tower too, although too bad it’s at night. We probably won’t be able to point out where all of Charles Whitman’s victims were when they were hit. I heard he hit a guy on a bike on Rio Grande.”

  I laughed. Leave it to B.D. to go straight for the gallows humor. “I thought seeing the downtown skyline at night would be romantic.”

  B.D. blushed slightly. “I’m sure it will be romantic.”

  I picked up her hand and kissed it.

  She tore her hand away, “Save the romance for the tower, lover boy.”

  I stared into her eyes and said only half joking, “I couldn’t help it. I was overcome by your beauty.”

  B.D. blushed furiously, ducked her head, picked up her knife and fork, and sawed furiously at the slab of beef on her plate.

  I just watched.

  *

  And when the master of ceremonies got our attention, so that he could begin handing out awards, I was still watching B.D. eat. At the moment, she was constructing perfect bites of raspberry sauce, chocolate cake, and whipped cream, then closing her eyes and moaning as she savored each bite. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was an orgasmic experience for her. But I was lucky enough to have first-hand knowledge that B.D. was significantly more animated when she was having an orgasm.

  I tuned out most of the awards except when he announced Dr. Hrezecovic’s name for the award for innovation. Then he was introducing her for the keynote address, so I tried my best to pull my eyes away from B.D. who was still working the chocolate cake. Dr. Hrezecovic launched into a very si
mple description of her work in which she uses light waves to help a robot “see.” Of course, she had a slide show illustrating her points and then pictures from the lab showing the actual experiments. When she got to a slide with B.D. in it, she gave B.D. a particular shout out and mentioned how B.D. had already developed a method to improve accuracy. She said they planned to publish these new findings soon, and she finished by getting B.D. to stand up and accept a polite round of applause. Fortunately, B.D. had finally finished her cake, so she was ready to stand and accept her due. She waved and blushed, clearly the loveliest woman in the room. Everyone at our table was duly impressed, and once again, I was struck by how far ahead of me B.D. was. I really should break up with her. I was just holding her back.

  *

  B.D. was already in the lobby wrapped in her shawl and waving at me like some exotic flower about to unfurl in the wind. Then she did. As I approached, she opened her arms revealing her burgundy clad beauty, then wrapped me in a hug. The tour guide cleared his throat, “Are you two lovers students here?”

  I nodded.

  “Could you two escort these two fine couples,” he gestured toward Jim and his wife Dolores and the other IBM guy and his wife whose names I didn’t get “to the main building and wait for the rest of the group in the lobby by the elevators.”

  I nodded to Jim while talking to the tour guide, “We’d be happy to. Follow me.” I theatrically bowed toward the door and grabbed B.D.’s hand. The other two couples strolled out the door, and we began trudging up the long hill to the tower. I shortened my stride to match B.D.’s stride in her heels and not leave the other members in our group behind. As we trudged up the South Mall, I felt obligated to act as a quasi tour guide since the IBMers had never visited campus. I explained how the giant fountain at the foot of the mall was dedicated to WWI casualties. I told them how the East, West, and South Malls were all part of Paul Cret’s original master plan. The South Mall was originally dedicated to the Arts both liberal and fine. The buildings used to have the subjects housed there like English, Music, and Psychology engraved over the door of the building. However, as the college had grown, those departments moved to other parts of the campus or took over more buildings, so the university started naming the buildings after beloved professors. The university sanded off the words for the subjects engraved over the doorways and replaced them with the engraved names of professors. Finally as we climbed the stairs to the Main Building Plaza, I pointed out Battle Hall on the left.