Unconventional

by Rebecca Royce

  “I’d better get my stuff out of Chance’s room.” The thought dawned on me right as I said it.

  Chance called over his shoulder, “I’m keeping the books.”

  “He’s keeping your books?” Banyan shook his head. “Do you not want them anymore?”

  “I read them already. We’re kind of trading.”

  He nodded. “See you upstairs.”

  I grabbed my suitcase and was about to leave when Chance grabbed me by the arm, pulling me to him to kiss me lightly on the lips. “Sleep well. Banyan won’t wake you up talking in his sleep.”

  “I didn’t mind, Chance. Besides, it got me into your bed with you and then… yeah.”

  He ran a finger over my cheek. “Yeah.” He paused like he was going to say something else and then didn’t. “See you in the morning.”

  I made my way up the stairs to Banyan’s loft. Except it really wasn’t a loft. He had the entire attic space as his bedroom. There were paintings everywhere. Half done or completed, covering the walls. His bed was against a small circular window. A second bed was in the corner of the room. It looked like he’d attempted to make both beds, but it was sort of more like the covers had been pulled up.

  The bed sheets matched on both beds. They were black, like his favorite sweatshirt, which reminded me I had it. I opened my suitcase and pulled out the shirt. “Thank you for this.”

  He shook his head. “Keep it.”

  “Banyan.” I walked toward him until I stood right up against him. “It’s your favorite shirt. I can’t keep it.”

  He ran a finger down my nose. “Are you going to turn down every gift I give you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “But you can’t give me your favorite sweatshirt. You clearly paint in it. It’s all over the shirt. You might need it to make the art happen one day, and who knows if we’ll know each other then.”

  His eyes widened. “I know we just met, but you’re imagining a world where you don’t know me? You fit with us. Like I know you can’t live in this house with us forever, but you’re just down the road. At least for the next six months. Then I’m only going back to Manhattan. That’s a couple hours’ drive.”

  “I’ve never really gotten to stay anywhere very long. This school is the longest I’ve stayed anywhere. My parents took a new job and then boom I was gone. I realize that isn’t my life anymore, per se. Although I am flying out to see them this summer because they’ve deemed it so. I never assume I’m keeping anyone in my life.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “See there is this newfangled technology called phones.”

  I laughed, and he pulled back to grin at me. I shook my head. “It’s not the same. Friendships can fade when there’s no face-to-face contact. Trust me, I know.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “Try and get rid of me. I like you. I don’t let things I like go. I’m totally selfish and spoiled.” He took the sweatshirt from me. “I’ll keep it because I bet it smells like you now. Roses. Is that your shampoo?”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  I stepped away from him to look around. I loved his work when he submitted it to the literary magazine. I hadn’t known I’d ever get to know him or spend the night in his bedroom for that matter. The picture he’d sent me had been a picture of a girl reading a book and the entire world exploding above her head.

  The colors had blown me away. I’d hired him to do every month’s edition. But his big paintings were staggeringly good. The Manhattan skyline but stained with red splotches. Why?

  “I’ve known a lot of artists. Some like to explain their work. Some don’t. Which are you?”

  “Outside of my professors, no one asks me about it. The guys look. They seem to like it, but I don’t have to analyze it for them. I’d love to talk about it.”

  I nodded. “Why the red?”

  “Red’s a complicated color for me. It’s my favorite, if I had to pick one. It’s love and blood at the same time. I was happy in New York. I knew I was a bastard. Yes, people still use that word but I didn’t mind it most of the time. It wasn’t until years later that I had to leave there for my so-called education that I realized what it was to be… judged. Red is love. Red is blood. Red is… power.”

  I loved it. “Do you show your work? You should.”

  “I’m going to. Well, I’m going to try to, next year. We’ll see.” He shrugged like it was no big deal when it clearly was.

  “You’re really, really talented.”

  He touched the back of my neck. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Something caught my eye, and I looked over at it. He’d painted in a thin black line, it could be mistaken for black ink if I didn’t see the black paint to the side of the easel. But it wasn’t so much what he had used as the subject of his painting. I was pretty sure it was me.

  He came up behind me putting his chin on my shoulder. “Did that all last night. Started and stopped over and over. Did your hair at first but I couldn’t get the color right. I’m not all that concerned with realism, but it mattered. I just tried to capture the essence of Giovanna.”

  I was just me outlined in black. All of my features I looked straight ahead, my eyes down. Whatever version of me he had captured, she was pretty. “I like how you see me. It’s not what I look like, but I can see how it’s supposed to be, enough I recognized myself. I’m not quite so elegant.” The neck alone was too graceful.

  He kissed the side of my neck. “Crazy woman. It doesn’t come close.”

  Discomfort rode me hard, and I tried not to run away. “I’m… fine to look at, I guess. I don’t think about it. Without the freckles, maybe I’m cuter.”

  “I like the freckles. I want to count your freckles.”

  I shook my head. “You couldn’t possibly. I think I have ten more every day.”

  “I’ll keep a running tally.”

  I turned in his arms. This was probably nothing to worry about. I wasn’t going to dwell on how to handle an artist making me his muse temporarily. I bet if I dug through his stuff, I’d see he painted lots of girls. I was just the one here right now.

  He was gorgeous. I could probably get lost in his brown eyes if I let myself. “So they let you have the whole attic to yourself?”

  “I shared a room with Maven for two years. I think he was really happy to pay to have the upstairs renovated for me from the budget for this year. From now on, it’ll be the social chair’s room up here.”

  Banyan kissed me then, so softly at first I could barely feel it. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. Goosebumps broke out all over my body. I could have him, tonight, and I didn’t have to think about tomorrow. We were friends. Friends who occasionally did this.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold onto him, but he didn’t rush. Banyan took his time, making love to my mouth. Over and over. We moved to his bed, lying down, but he still made no moves to make out more. By the time he pulled back, I was hot and needing more.

  His eyes were hooded. “I want to take off your shirt and make love to those breasts.”

  I sat up and threw my shirt aside. I was in a pink, cotton bra. It wasn’t special, but I hadn’t grabbed the right things when I’d packed. I owned exactly one hot set of underwear, and I didn’t have it with me.

  He thumbed the top of it. “I love pink. I’m going to paint you in pink next time.”

  “Do you have to paint me?”

  Banyan nodded. “Yes.”

  He unclasped my bra and bit down on my nipple. My already-on-high-alert body shuddered. I grabbed onto his back, digging my fingers into his skin. He groaned. “More like that. Please. Love it. Dig your fucking nails into me as hard as you want. I love it.”

  Banyan changed breasts, biting down on my other nipple. He sucked hard for a second before he raised his gaze to meet mine. “What I really want to do, sweetheart, is put my mouth on you. I want to hear you call my name over and over while my tongue brings you to orgasm. If you can be frighteningly honest, so can I.”
r />   I swallowed. “Banyan, I’ve never been able to get off like that. I’m just acutely aware of everything about myself during that. I’m not doing enough.”

  He gave me a sideways smile. “So what you’re saying is you need to participate?”

  “That’s not exactly true. I… There’s just something about that. Look, I’m screwy, and I just ruined the mood.”

  He shook his head. “No, this is how it gets done. I need to know what you like and you have to know that I get off on oral. If you don’t, it’s just because some idiot hasn’t done it right on you. Allow me to make up for the previous inadequacies of your bed partners. And if you want to, then please by all means, put your mouth on my cock at the same time.”

  I leaned back on my elbows. “I love blow jobs.”

  He made a motion from his eyes toward mine. “See? I knew it. We’re totally compatible in bed. Then sometimes in the not so distant future, I’m going to come deep inside of you.”

  I got up on my knees. “We’ve got to take off your pants.”

  “My zipper. Your teeth. I can get bossy, sweetheart, if you don’t like it you’re going to have to tell me.”

  As an answer I pulled at his jeans’ button to open it before I took his zipper in my mouth. I didn’t want him ordering me around on the street or if he ran into me in class but in bed? I’d take it anytime. I was hot, and wanting. He pulled at my pants, until they were off.

  “Your panties match your bra.”

  I nodded. “Always.”

  I pulled his zipper with my teeth until it was down and I could take his pants off of his with a hard tug.

  “This would go better if you were at that end and I’m at that other.”

  I smiled at him. “Not in my mouth, okay?”

  “Wouldn’t, sweetheart, not without permission. I’m clean but I’ll prove it to you before I ask you to trust me. Next couple of days, okay? For now, I’ll come on your breasts if you let me.”

  I would. A million times yes.

  Chapter 8

  I loved giving blow jobs. There was so much power in that moment, to know you were solely responsible for how excited the guy got. Before I’d ever had a penis inside of me, I’d done this for months. I was good at this.

  But so, it turned out, was Banyan. I wanted to give him the best head of his life but I could hardly concentrate. His tongue was doing extraordinary things. I hadn’t known it could feel like this. Mostly I’d always found it uncomfortable. Not anymore.

  He straddled my body, which was great because it kept my hands free to touch him everywhere I wanted to. When I couldn’t get him solely down my throat, I followed with my hand. Over and over, I stroked and sucked.

  Banyan moaned, the vibration moving through me and causing me to shudder. My body was alive and any hesitation I’d had about this as being uncomfortable wasn’t present right now. Every cell in my body wanted this, badly.

  I concentrated on what I was doing. The taste of him. Hot. Male. Wet. Salty. For the moment, all mine. I didn’t have to think past now. I could just have him, I could give him pleasure and receive it in return. And oh, God, could he give it.

  He didn’t fumble. Banyan knew what he was doing and his tongue, so sweet when he spoke, was wicked in his ministrations. He’d bring me close and pull me back. Minute by minute, he got harder in my mouth until I could feel him throb for release.

  I was close, but sometimes pleasure eluded me. Even when I craved it so much. Even when everything was right. My body fought me on what I needed. I pulled back just enough to speak to him. “I might not. Sometimes it’s just me.”

  He moaned against me, and I shivered. “Fuck that,” he managed to say. “I’m not in a hurry. I love this so much. Could do it all night, sweetheart.”

  The pressure was off me. I closed my eyes and just… felt. It was hard for me to get out of my own head, but I managed. My body pulsed. He didn’t need me to hurry up so I didn’t. And then it came, my breathing quickening. “I’m going to…”

  I barely managed to get the words out.

  “Yep.” He jerked his hips back. “Let me out. If you are, I am.”

  He bit down on my clit and I exploded. Right there, in his mouth while he came on my breasts. This was hot. My body convulsed. I whispered his name in the midst of my incoherent mumblings and sighs. Colors passed in front of my closed eyelids. Banyan came on a loud shout, hard and fast. I kept my eyes closed, just concentrating on breathing. How long had we been doing that? I didn’t know, didn’t care.

  He got off me, and I moaned, missing his warmth. I forced my lids open. Where was he going? Were we done? Was he going to want me to leave?

  Banyan bent over and kissed my forehead. “Be right back. Don’t move. I like you like that. Naked and relaxed. I like you every other way, too, but that’s an image I’d like to repeat. Fuck, you were… yeah.”

  His sweet tongue was back. He tugged on his boxers and went out the door and down the stairs. As soon as he was gone, coldness invaded where the warmth had been. He’d said to stay where I was, but there was a huge difference between being naked with Banyan and naked by myself in Banyan’s room. I grabbed his blanket and wrapped myself in it like a cocoon.

  I was really not acting like myself lately. I was chatting up a storm to three guys I’d met on the street, and now I was indulging in all the things I missed and fantasized about with them as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Maybe I was more myself right now than ever. Or perhaps, this time was like a step out of time. I was one of those fantasy heroines. I’d left my time and entered another dimension where I could just be. I was on vacation from all the problems that kept me from doing and saying what I wanted.

  Banyan came back up the stairs and, upon seeing me, stuck his bottom lip out. “Boo. I wanted you naked and now you are covered up. Here.” He held up a washcloth. “Unwrap. It’s warm. I make a mess. I clean up. At least when it comes to you.”

  I winced. “Wasn’t thinking. Made a mess of your blanket, maybe? I’ll wash it with your sweatshirt as soon as I find a washer, dryer.”

  He shrugged, tugging at my blanket. “Hate to break it to you, but this would absolutely not be the first time I stained this thing with that particular substance. I’ve had this blanket since I was thirteen. So, yeah. I’ll wash it. Not washing the sweatshirt. It smells like you. Oh, come to think of it so will this. Hmm.”

  I let him unwrap me and gently clean me off. Embarrassment had me moving toward my suitcase for clothes. My inhibitions hadn’t gotten the message that they had to stay away until January 7th.

  “Change your mind.” He walked over to grab another cover out of his closet before he lay down on the bed. “Let’s sleep naked, skin-to-skin. Honestly, it’ll be a first for me. I kick girls out most of the time. I’m an asshole. But, I want to with you tonight. If you do. Or get dressed. Whatever you want.”

  He’d known exactly what I was going to do. Then again, I’d hardly been subtle making a beeline for my bag. I twisted up my face. “I’d love to keep looking at you naked, but I’m feeling exposed.”

  There was the honesty again. I had to keep it up. Retreating into my sures and fines didn’t work this week. Not on my vacation from my life.

  Banyan patted the bed. “Come here.”

  He lifted the cover, this one a plaid brown and blue quilt, and I got under it with him. “This is new. It’s fun. It’s crazy this is happening so easily. You’re maybe the coolest girl I’ve ever met. Even the ones who come here and are okay with being passed around are ultimately hoping one of us will fall for them and date them. There’s the whole lettering ceremony, where they get the shirt. A pinning if they’re practically engaged. I’m going on and on here. The point is that you will eventually not worry about being naked. You’ll know I’m so hot for you that I frickin’ love it. That’s all.”

  I leaned up on my elbow. These girls wanted to be pinned and lettered by the fraternity. To be recognized by the ent
ire brotherhood as belonging to their boyfriend. “Do the sororities do anything similar? And your boxers are still on while I have to be naked?”

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “Whoops.” Banyan threw his boxers across the room. “There, now we’re equal. As for your other question,” He shook his head. “No, they don’t. There’s a lot of cache to getting lettered in the sororities, or so I’m told. Those ladies earn their letters too, but they’ll stop wearing their own to wear ours. Whatever. We’re supposed to vote on whether or not we want to let a brother give over his letters. I never say no. I mean, what the fuck; his girl, his life. She has to give them back if they break up. Did you ever think about rushing?”

  I shook my head. “I remember when Miranda did. She was my freshman year roommate. She hated me. It was a lot of fuss. She was coming in and out in the middle of the night. I had a freshman year seminar I had to get through. Even if I could have tolerated the idea of giving so much time away from my studies—and I have to be hyper-vigilant or I don’t pass—I don’t have the money.”

  He took my hand in his. “Really glad you didn’t, actually. We’d have a very different relationship right now. There would be things you would think you would know about me, and things I would think I knew about you. Only about fifty percent of the time is any of that accurate.”

  I sighed. “That app.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You know about that app? Did you look at it?”

  “No, my roommate’s boyfriend, R.J., suggested I look at it when he heard I was staying here.”

  Banyan rolled over onto his stomach, tugging me until I lay by his side. “He would say that. Considering DKI spends half their time writing bullshit about all of the other frats in that fucking thing. They post all the time, flood all other postings out of view. They all look like saints, and we’re all drunken lunatics. Not just SPiI, but every other house on campus. They rate the sorority girls, too. Call them fat. Ugly. Sluts. It’s not cool.”

  No, it really was not. “I hate those words. I hate anything that labels us as other and therefore bad. Or less than.” Stupid was my least favorite ever. I’d almost rather be called anything else.