by Erin Noelle
With a box under each arm, I make the initial ascent up the stairs to our place on the third floor. I tap my foot lightly on the door, since my hands are full, and thankfully, it’s only a matter of seconds before Lyv throws the door open and squeals as loud as possible. “Oh my God! You’re here! We’re actually doing this! Ahhhhh!”
I can’t help but laugh at her excitement, even if I’m not feeling it as much as she is—nothing to do with her, of course. “You’re crazy.” I smile, shaking my head as I walk past her into the already-decorated living room. “Wow, you’ve been busy today.” I place the two boxes on the kitchen table and take a look around.
“I hope you like it.” She bounds over to me, hugging my neck and kissing my cheek. “I went bold out here—African chic, the lady called it—and then softer in the bedrooms.”
Bold is one word for the sleek black leather couches and myriad of animal prints appearing around the open area. Gold, orange, and red accents help emphasize the whole safari look, which spills over into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure if I should roar or talk to you in here,” I jest, hugging her back, truly happy to see her after our time apart.
“You don’t like it?” Her eyes open wide and forehead creases with concern. “Maybe I watched Lion King one too many times this summer with Lily.”
“It’s great, Lyv. I was just teasing. You rocked it out,” I assure her. “How’s Lily adjusting to the move, anyway?”
Lily is Alyvia’s four-year-old half-sister, the product of her dad’s third and most recent marriage to her high school freshman Algebra teacher. This was the algebra class that, according to Lyv, she was failing but miraculously passed with a B after a few teacher-parent conferences . . . yet another example of how her dad will do anything for her.
“She’s awesome, as always. That kid never stops smiling.” Lyv tugs on my hand, pulling me towards the door. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff from your car, and then I want you to see your room. I’ll show you pics of Daddy’s new house later.”
For the next several hours, we finish unpacking our personal stuff and putting away our clothes, giving me a small reprieve from thinking about Davis. In all honesty, I love the mahogany bedroom furniture, along with the feminine pale yellow and lavender bedding and curtains she picked out for me, and the longer I’m here with her, the more excited I’m getting about the next school year.
“You ready to grab some dinner? I’m just about finished.” She peeks her head through the doorway of my room. My stomach growls as I process the thought, my body answering before my voice does.
“Yeah, sure. Are we gonna shower-up now, or later?” I ask, unsure if dinner will lead straight to going out, or if we’re coming back here first—a topic she’s already mentioned several more times since I got here, so I know there’s no talking her out of it.
“Now. Jenna’s working at Papa Delgado’s tonight, so she’ll hook us up with some margaritas, and then we can go see who’s playing at Deli.”
“How are we getting in Deli?”
She waggles her eyebrows at me and smirks. “I made friends with Lucky, one of the door guys, after you left to go stay with Granny. We shouldn’t have any issues on Thursdays and Fridays as long as he keeps his job there.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Okay, hooker. I’ll start getting ready.”
“Spill, woman. I’ve waited long enough,” Alyvia demands before taking a long pull from the straw floating in her margarita.
I shoot a confused look across the table at her, not sure how we went from talking about the food she had in Italy to this. “Spill what?” I ask confused. “Is the tequila already affecting your brain?”
“I’m just fine,” she sets her glass down forcefully and gives me the look, “but you’re not, and I want to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just tired; it’s been a long day.”
“Bullshit. You got home over two weeks ago, and other than texting me to let me know you were home safely, our only interactions have been when I’ve reached out to you. All you can say about your trip that you wouldn’t shut up about for nearly six months beforehand is that ‘It was fun,’ and ‘The place was beautiful.’ And then, you show up this afternoon looking damn near anorexic, with dark, puffy circles under your eyes as if you haven’t eaten or slept in weeks.” She waves her arms around at me as if I should look at myself. “I tried to give you a few hours to get settled, hoping you’d open up to me on your own about whatever guy has you losing your damn mind, but since you’re obviously not going to do that, I’m asking again. What the fuck is going on?”
The unfinished taco on my plate suddenly becomes really interesting, so I pick at it as I try to find the right words to explain what happened. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Nancy Drew.” I sigh, irritated at myself at how condescending my tone is. “Look, I’m sorry.” I look up at her apologetically. “You’re right. I just don’t know how to deal with these feelings. This is all new to me.”
“What happened? Who is he?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest with her eyes focused on me, ready to listen. “Who do I need to kill?”
“You don’t need to kill anyone.” I chuckle at her serious stature, knowing deep down she’d really take Davis to task if she ever got her hands on him. “Do you remember the guy from the airport? The one I sent you pictures of?”
“Cougar Hunter?” Her eyes light up with amusement.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” I reply with a nod. “Well, it turns out he was another survivor at the retreat, and we really hit it off.”
“Are you serious? That’s awesome! What’s his name?” she shrieks.
“Davis. Davis McKay.” I know the name won’t ring any bells for her. She follows sports like I follow fashion trends—not at all. Plus, she’s originally from Connecticut, only having moved here last year for school.
With a wave of her hand, she motions for me to continue with the story. “So we ended up sitting across the aisle from each other on the plane, and from the very beginning, we had this insane attraction. It was different than other cute guys I’ve hooked up with here . . . we just clicked in every way. We hung out for most of the trip, became pretty much inseparable for the two weeks, honestly, and as much as I tried not to fall for him, I did.”
“Where does this Davis live and what did he survive?”
“In Texas and a plane crash,” I reply, taking a big gulp from my glass of wine I’d opted for instead of a margarita. Alyvia gave me a weird look when I ordered it, but didn’t say anything.
She cringes. “Ooh, that’s awful. I can’t even imagine.”
My head bobs up and down in agreement. “It was only a couple of years ago, and he’s still pretty torn up over it, which was his excuse on why we shouldn’t continue to talk after we got home.” I throw back the rest of the glass, an attempt to drown out some of the pain.
“Did you sleep with him?”
I look at her like she’s grown a second head. “Of course I slept with him,” I whisper-shout. “We were on a luxurious tropical island for two weeks parading around in front of each other in swimsuits and drinking alcohol all day. What do you think happened?!”
Her body leans forward to the table and she lowers her voice to match mine. “I didn’t ask if you fucked him; I kind of assumed that happened. I want to know if you slept with him, like in a bed . . . all night—that thing you refuse to do with any other guy because of your mornings.”
I blink back the unwelcome tears as I answer. “Yeah, I did for the last half of the trip.”
“And did he see what happens?”
“No.” I shake my head, sighing. “It hasn’t happened since the first night we spent together. It was the night the tropical storm blew through, and I told him my story as he comforted me through the worst of it.”
“Not even since you’ve been home?” she questions curiously.
“Not even since I’ve been home,” I confirm.
“Hmmm,” is all she says for a few minutes, contemplating what all I just revealed to her.
Finally, she lifts the margarita to her mouth and slurps down the rest of it in one gulp. Finding her purse, she pulls out a Benjamin and throws it on the table before standing up from her chair. “Have you thought maybe that was his purpose for coming into your life? To help you get over the undeserved guilt that has plagued you for years?”
“Honestly, no,” I stand up next to her, grabbing my purse, “I’ve been too busy feeling sorry for myself to look at it from that angle.”
“Well, I think you should be thankful and enjoy the blessing he gave you, rather than worrying about all this other stuff.” Cocking her head to the side, she smiles wickedly. “Now, let’s go get you a nice buzz and find you a little hottie to help you forget all about this Davis McKay.”
Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.
ALYVIA’S ‘LUCKY’ CONNECTION came through like a champ; we were ushered right inside Deli without even being asked for IDs. Now tucked away, sitting in a corner booth at the trendy live music venue located on the historic Campus Corner, I scan the roomful of people as I wait for Alyvia to come back from the bar with our drinks.
The crowd is an eclectic mix. There’s everything from your typical college coed to the tattooed, blue-haired Mohawk guy with gages in his ear so big I could stick my thumbs through them. Everyone is chatting with their friends, enjoying a few drinks, and seemingly waiting for the band that’s setting up on stage to get started.
“Here, drink this.” Alyvia returns, handing me a shot glass filled with amber liquid. Based on the salted rim and lime wedged on the side, I’m assuming it’s tequila, and after one good whiff of the potent liquor, which burns the hairs inside my nose, I’m positive of it.
“No, thanks.” I push it over in front of her. “I told you I wanted a glass of wine.”
“Wine?!” She spits the word out as if it tastes bad in her mouth. “Seriously, what in the hell happened to you while you were gone? You do realize you’re still nineteen, right?” She lowers her voice when she says my age and shoves the small glass back in front of me, narrowing her eyes. “We’re here celebrating our new apartment together. You’re gonna take this nasty shot with me, and then we’re gonna drink some cheap ass beer while we listen to some hopefully decent music like normal college kids. Okay?” Raising her shot in the air, she cocks her head and gives me the you-aren’t-going-to-win-this look, waiting for me to do the same.
I sigh overdramatically and lift the glass to meet hers, clinking them in midair. “To my new bossy roommate,” I quip with a tinge of snarkiness.
With a deep belly laugh, she nods and grins. “To you loving your new bossy roommate.”
In a fluid motion, we simultaneously lick the salt, toss back the shot, and suck on the lime—an act we became all too familiar with last year at the numerous frat parties she insisted I go to with her. A shudder runs down my spine as the strong liquor blazes through my chest. I slam the glass down on the wooden surface and look up into Lyv’s shining eyes.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
“I’m not doing another,” I warn, snagging the bottle of beer out from in front of her and take a long drink, trying to mask the taste of the tequila still lingering on my tongue. “I don’t want to be completely worthless tomorrow when I go try to get my job back.”
“Would you relax and at least try to have a good time? I know you’re in a funk ‘cause of loverboy, but I promise you the combination of time and forcing yourself to do other things will help. I’ve been there. Remember how I was when you first met me? I thought my life was over when I came here and had to leave Shelton back in Connecticut.” Her voice is sympathetic, and I know she wants what’s best for me.
“I’m sorry. It’s still so fresh.” I shake my head at myself and the ridiculous way I’ve been acting. “You’re right though. I just need to be thankful for the experience, instead of mourning the loss.”
“That’s my girl.” She smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek. “I missed you, Bristol.”
“I missed you too, Lyv.”
After the bar closes, Alyvia and I somehow make it back to Lucky’s apartment with him. He refused to let her drive home after our fourth shot of tequila, which was probably the one that sent us over the edge from tipsy to pretty damn drunk, and instead, piled us into his truck once the bar closed and drove us to his place.
I’m dead-tired by the time we make it through his front door. Graciously, he gives me a giant t-shirt to sleep in, two Tylenol, and a bottle of water. He steers me into his roommate’s bedroom, who isn’t supposed to be there for the weekend, and tells me to sleep there instead of on the lumpy couch. Even in my intoxicated state, I do a quick inspection of the sheets, making sure I’m not about to lie down in anything nasty, and once it’s passed my eye-test, I flop into the strange bed.
Unfortunately, sleep does not claim me nearly as quickly as I would like. Sounds of Lucky getting . . . well . . . lucky with my best friend penetrate through the thin walls, and I find myself staring at the ceiling, reminiscing about the last night Davis and I were together. I miss him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to get upset thinking about him, but the emotional effects of the alcohol refuse to allow that. Lonely tears flow steadily down my face as I listen to them finish, and it isn’t until they grow quiet that I finally pass out myself.
At some point in the early morning hours, I wake up desperately needing to pee—a side effect of a lot of drinking and yet another NC-17 dream about Davis, only to find myself snuggled up in the arms of a complete stranger.
“Who the fuck are you?!” I yell as I scramble out of the bed, getting my feet tangled in the covers and falling ass-first onto the floor.
Seconds later, Alyvia and Lucky bust through the door and flip on the light, only in their underwear, right about the time the huge guy in the bed sits straight up, obviously startled as well. I look back and forth between the guy who’s big enough to play offensive line for any Division 1 school in the country, and the couple standing in the doorway confused as hell.
Lucky is the first one to start laughing, followed by the stranger I was just canoodling, and then Alyvia. The three of them are all cracking up so hard they can hardly breathe. For some damn reason, their amusement is contagious, and I start in too until a little pee leaks out. Jumping up, I dash out of the room holding my crotch, nearly knocking Alyvia down in the process, and make it to the bathroom just in time to not make the situation anymore embarrassing and absurd than it already is.
By the time I wash my hands and return, they’ve all calmed down for the most part, and I’m properly introduced to my human body pillow.
“Bristol, this is my little brother and roommate, Mo, who wasn’t supposed to be here until Sunday night,” Lucky explains, still shaking his head and laughing. “Mo, you remember Alyvia, and this is her roommate, Bristol.”
I walk over to the burly, Hispanic guy with messy black curls still sitting up in the bed, who thankfully remained dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts, and reach out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mo.” I smile at his friendly face. “Sorry I hijacked your bed and for anything inappropriate I may have done in my sleep.”
He belly laughs, grabs my hand, and yanks me down in the bed next to him. “No need to apologize for anything other than waking me up way too fucking early. Lay your skinny ass down and go back to sleep, Flaca.” He turns his attention to each of our roommates in the doorway. “It’s great to see you again, Alyvia, but can y’all please turn off the light and go back to bed. I promise I’m not going to hurt or touch your friend. Mama would personally castrate me if she ever found out I did something like that, and I really like my balls right where they are.”
Lucky turns off the light with a chuckle as they walk out, leaving me alone in a bed wit
h this still stranger. He scoots back down until his head is resting on the pillow, apparently not too concerned or bothered by me being in his bed. I, on the other hand, am completely weirded out.
“Lay down, Bristol,” Mo mumbles. “I didn’t want to wake you when I got in. It was late and you looked so peaceful. Sorry I scared you, but I meant what I said. I’m not going to try anything. You can go back to sleep.”
I turn onto my side away from him, and after several repositioning attempts, am finally able to get comfortable. Then, miraculously, I fall back asleep, only to wake up several hours later cuddled back up to him yet again.
Lucky and Mo take us to grab some lunch at The Hideaway, a local pizza joint, before they bring us back to Alyvia’s car. It’s here that I learn Mo is indeed an offensive lineman—I was right! Transferring in from Oklahoma City Community College as a second year student, he wasn’t able to attend OU his freshman year because of his high school grades, but he’s now gotten his shit together and ready to play football for one of the top schools in the country.
I tell him about my sports editor position at the Daily, and for most of the meal, he and I talk about the upcoming season and how the new college playoff format will affect everyone, while Lucky listens intently and Lyv pretends to know what we’re talking about. By the time they drop us off at the car, Mo and I have become quick friends. I offer my tutoring help anytime he needs it and tell him I’ll see him on the field Monday. Mo gives me a big teddy bear hug as Alyvia and Lucky kiss goodbye, and he tells me I’m a cool chick for being so skinny.
Once we’re safely inside Alyvia’s car, she turns to me with a big goofy grin. “See, all you needed to forget ol’ what’s-his-name was a few drinks and a night in bed with another guy,” she says as she turns the key in the ignition.
Unsure if she’s joking or being serious, I cock one eyebrow at her and snort out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry to disappoint you, but there’s not going to be a love connection between me and Big Mo. I’m happy to hang out with him. I thought he was funny, and we could probably talk football for hours, but the other . . . uh-uh, ain’t happening.”
