How do I get myself out of this? And do I even want to get out of it?
I’m sure Chris has a pretty good idea about what’s stressing me right now.
“What’s the matter, Heather?” he asks. “Don’t you trust me?”
Yep, he knows.
“No, it’s not that,” I say. “I do trust you.” I give his hand a more gentle squeeze and smile. “At least, as much as I trust any of you horny college guys.”
“You know us guys too well,” he says, laughing.
“I’m just not ready for anything more yet,” I explain. “Physically, I mean. And I’m not sure I trust myself to stop when I should. Can you understand?”
“Yeah, I can,” he says. “I guess.”
“I’m sorry to be acting like this,” I say. “This is all so new to me.”
“Really?” He looks genuinely surprised. “I’d have thought a girl as cute as you would have had lots of boyfriends.”
“No,” I say. “Not even close. Too careful, I guess.”
“Why so careful?” he asks. “A bad experience?”
Why so careful? That’s a question I’d need hours to answer.
“Not really,” I say. I think of Gaby. “Not personally, anyhow. It has more to do with my mom and dad, I think. But I don’t want to talk about them now. You’ll understand when you meet them. If you’re lucky enough to get that far, that is,” I add with a grin.
He laughs. “That’s not usually what guys mean when we say ‘get lucky.’ But don’t worry, I’m cool with taking things slow—for a little while, at least.”
“Thank you.” I give him a quick kiss on the lips. “But I want to do more of that,” I say. “Lots more.” I can’t believe I just said that. What happened to cautious girl?
He grins. “Maybe we need to find ourselves a chaperone, then, to make sure we behave ourselves.”
I laugh. “I think Marissa would volunteer, for sure!”
“Let’s head back to your place,” Chris suggests. “If Marissa’s there, she can watch us. If not, we’ll make out in the hallway, where we can’t get into any real trouble.”
I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not. Or if I want him to be kidding. We have to head somewhere, though, whether we’re going to do any more kissing or not.
“It’s such a beautiful night,” I say. “Can we take the long way back?”
“Sure,” he replies, clearly pleased by my suggestion that we extend our walk. “How about we go by the Student Center? That’s definitely the long way home. There might even be something going on there.”
“Perfect,” I reply.
We walk slowly, in no hurry, just enjoying the beautiful night and each other. Sometimes we hold hands, sometimes we let go when one of us reacts to a funny comment or needs to gesture to make a point. It’s all so easy, and so natural. No stress involved. Not at all like that other stuff. Maybe that’s why things were so easy with Justin—because we were just great friends. None of this sex stuff to worry about. I wanted to be more than friends with Justin, but I never got there. And I definitely want more with Chris. Luckily, it seems he does, too. Now if I can just get my head on straight.
Lots of other kids are walking around campus, some in pairs, some in larger groups. A few of the groups are loud and obnoxious, too much to drink at a party somewhere probably, but most of the kids are doing just what Chris and I are doing—walking and talking and having fun.
There’s nothing special going on at the Student Center, but there’s still plenty of students inside, grabbing a late snack or just hanging around with their friends. In front of the entrance, a bunch of kids are puffing on cigarettes, getting their nicotine fix before going back inside. Chris and I swerve onto the grass to avoid the cloud of smoke hovering over them.
“You ready to head home?” Chris asks. “We can cut across the Green.”
“Sure,” I say.
The Green is a grass plaza bigger than a football field near the center of campus. We’re at one end, in front of the Student Center. The other end is dominated by the library, a huge, cathedral-like stone edifice that’s one of the oldest buildings on campus. Like the Student Center, the library is open twenty-four hours a day. A wide cement walkway connects the two. Two more sidewalks crisscross the plaza from corner to corner. The three walkways meet in the center, at a huge circular concrete fountain. A jet of water in the middle of the fountain spews ten feet into the air.
The Green is lit by a ring of lights fashioned to look like old-time gaslights, as well as a row of the same lights along each of the walkways, but the central area is still not as bright as the areas closer to the buildings. The grass triangles between the sidewalks are dimmer still.
Chris and I head down the central sidewalk toward the fountain. With each step, the noise from the Student Union fades and the night becomes a little darker, providing a sense of peaceful privacy. When we reach the fountain, the sound of the splashing water drowns out any remaining noise.
I’m about to ask Chris to stop here so we can watch the fountain for a few minutes, but before I can say anything, he puts his hands on my cheeks and kisses me. There’s no time to get nervous or for questions to race through my brain. I simply dissolve into the kiss.
It’s just as sensational as the first one. Maybe even better, since there was no worrying preceding it. There’s nothing but the feel of his lips, the taste of his breath, and the urgent probing of his tongue. I surrender to the delicious feelings. Once again, time loses its meaning, and I know this sounds lame, but I think I see fireworks.
“Sorry,” Chris says when he finally pulls his lips from mine. “I couldn’t wait.”
Sorry?! Are you kidding me? I want to tell him there’s no reason to be sorry, no reason at all, but I’m still trying to catch my breath and engage my brain. I need to say something, or he’s liable to think I’m mad at him.
“Umm, that’s okay,” I finally manage to say. Oh, Heather, you silver-tongued devil, you.
“I figured we couldn’t get into any trouble out here,” he says.
As if to emphasize the point, three girls walk past us on their way from the library to the Student Center. They barely give us a glance as they pass, but their presence gives my brain a chance to begin working again.
“It’s not your fault I’m irresistible,” I say, smiling. I bend to the fountain and splash a handful of water up at his face. “Maybe this will cool you off, though.”
He tries to duck, but he’s not quick enough. The water splashes against his cheek and drips slowly from his chin.
“And maybe this will cool you off, hot stuff,” he says as he scoops me into his arms and threatens to toss me into the fountain.
“Nooo!” I scream, laughing. “Please don’t! Pretty please!”
Oh, no, he’s lifting me higher! He’s not really going to throw me in, is he? He wouldn’t!
He puts one foot up on the edge of the fountain and balances my butt on his thigh. He’s much stronger than he looks, cradling me in his arms with little effort. Before I can react, he’s kissing me again. Oh, god, here come those fireworks again.
“We can still go back to my place,” Chris says somewhat breathlessly when he finally pulls his mouth away from mine.
We’re sitting on the cement rim of the fountain now. We’ve been kissing for awhile, and standing had become increasingly difficult, at least for me.
His simple declaration sets off a firefight in my brain. Part of me screams “yes!” while the careful part of me digs in with a firm “no way.” Of course, Chris hears none of this, though maybe he can glimpse some of the internal struggle on my face. As the sensation of his lips against mine slowly fades, caution and common sense gain the upper hand, as they always do.
“Do you really think I’m any more ready now than I was a little while ago?” I ask, keeping my voice soft so he doesn’t think I’m upset. “Because of a few more kisses?”
“No, not really,” he says. He takes my hand in his a
nd grins. “But I am.”
I smile and shake my head. What am I going to do with him?
“Why am I not surprised by that?” I say.
“Sorry,” he says. His grin is wider now. “I can’t help it. I’m a guy.”
“Well, Mister Guy, you’re just going to have to learn to control yourself,” I say teasingly. “Think you can do that?”
He grins again. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I guess that’s settled, then,” he says.
Settled? I wish the argument inside my head could be settled so easily. But at least Chris is being a gentleman about this. I just hope patience is one of his virtues, too, because I don’t think I’m going to be ready for anything more anytime soon, despite the feelings swirling inside me. I wonder how long he’ll be willing to wait? I wish I knew more about guys.
I think I need to have a long talk with Marissa.
Chapter 17
Marissa is already in bed when Chris and I get back to my room. It’s not quite midnight, so I guess it was an early Friday night for her. In a way, this is good. Chris and I share one more wonderful kiss outside my door, then we say goodnight. I don’t have to worry about having him come in and being alone together in my room, and I also don’t have to worry about what he might say to Marissa about having her watch us kiss. The boy can be such a wise guy sometimes.
I creep into the room as quietly as I can, after easing the door shut behind me. There’s enough light filtering in through the windows and from the power indicators on all our electronic devices for me to see my way without turning on a light. I’m only halfway across the room when Marissa speaks.
“You can turn on the light,” she says, her voice clear and alert. “I’m not asleep. I just got into bed five minutes ago.”
I flick on my desk lamp, which still leaves her half of the room in dimness. I guess she really isn’t all that sleepy, because she’s already pushed her blanket down and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“So, how was your date?” she asks.
“Really fun,” I say. “I had a great time.”
I sit down on my bed and tell her all about open mic night, finishing with Chris’ wild piano playing.
“Jerry Lee Lewis, huh?” Marissa says. “That must have been something. I bet the place went wild when he started playing with his foot.”
“They did. They loved it.”
“So, did you two do anything else? Or was open mic night it?”
I smile at her. “Well, there might have been some making out involved afterward,” I say.
Marissa leaps across the room and bounces onto the bed beside me. “All right! Let’s hear it.”
“I’m so glad you said that,” I say. “Because I really need to talk to you about it.”
“Uh, oh,” Marissa says warily, sensing she might be getting into more than she bargained for. “I just wanted some good girl talk—you know, gossipy stuff. But that’s not quite what you’ve got in mind, is it?”
“No,” I say. “I really need some advice. I’m pretty clueless about this stuff.”
Marissa grins. “Okay, I’ll make you deal. Give me some juicy details first, and then we’ll do the advice thing.”
“I guess that’s fair,” I say. “But the details aren’t all that juicy.”
“Maybe not if they were coming from me,” Marissa says, her grin growing wider. “But coming from my shy, innocent little roomie, they’ll be plenty good.”
I take a moment to decide where to start. I guess there’s no place like the beginning.
“The first kiss was on the sidewalk, just outside The Joint,” I say.
“The first kiss!” Marissa repeats. “That means there was more than one, then. I knew this was going to be good.”
I tell Marissa about that first kiss, trying not to sound too sappy about it, but still getting across the idea of how amazing it felt. I leave out my lame “wow” comment when it ended. I finish by telling her how we just stood there afterwards, his arms draped over my shoulders, until some guy shouted the “get a room” thing. And how I panicked at the idea of that. And how it got even worse when he suggested we could go back to his room.
“I’m guessing that’s what you want some advice about, huh?” Marissa asks.
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Let’s hear about those other kisses, before we come back to this. Okay?”
I tell her about the surprise kiss by the fountain, and how I splashed him, and how he picked me up and threatened to throw me into the water, but instead ended up kissing me again.
“If my math is correct, that’s three major make-outs,” Marissa says, grinning. “My little girl is growing up so fast!”
I feel myself blushing. I’m not sure if it’s from the three make-out thing, or the teasing about how clueless and innocent I am. Probably both.
“After the third kiss, he mentioned going back to his place again,” I say. “That’s when we had a little talk about how I’m nowhere near ready for that.”
“Good girl,” Marissa says. “Communication is totally important. At least that’s what the grownups are always saying. What did he say to that?”
“He said he understood. But I think he was a little disappointed.”
“Of course he was disappointed,” Marissa says. “He’s a guy. He’s supposed to be disappointed. It’s genetic.”
“He said he was ready,” I add.
“Whoa! Stop the presses!” Marissa is laughing now. “A guy who’s ready for some nookie…who’d a thought it?”
I try not to laugh, but can’t help myself. It is pretty funny, I guess. Especially from Marissa’s point of view, I’m sure. And every other human being with an emotional age higher than twelve.
“I’m sorry,” Marissa says when she stops laughing. “I know you’re being serious. So what part of all this is bothering you so much? Did Chris try to push you into it?”
“No, not at all. He was a perfect gentleman. He even suggested we get a chaperone to watch us kiss, so we wouldn’t get into any trouble?”
“A make-out chaperone? Now that is funny.”
“I said I thought you’d volunteer for the job,” I say.
“Totally!” Marissa says. “I’ll make sure he keeps his hands where I can see ‘em.”
Now we’re both laughing again.
“Chris sounds like he’s cool with the way things are right now,” Marissa says. “So, what’s the problem?”
“He is cool with it,” I say. “But I’m worried about how long he’ll stay that way. What if I’m not ready for anything more for a long time? How long will he wait?”
“If he really likes you, he’ll wait as long as you need him to,” Marissa says.
“I hope so,” I say. “Because I really like him.”
“Don’t do anything until you’re sure you’re ready. One thing I know for certain—you can never go backwards. So make sure it’s what you want to do.”
I shake my head in resignation. “I’m so stupid about this stuff. Thanks for listening.”
“Hey, no problem. And don’t forget, until you’re ready, I’m happy to chaperone.”
Chapter 18
Late Wednesday afternoon, Marissa, Katie, Beth and I are waiting in front of the dorm for my dad to pick us up and take us home for dinner. Mom and Dad have been complaining I don’t come home enough—duh, don’t they understand there’s a reason for that?
I have mixed feelings about bringing my friends to my house. There’s safety in numbers, sure, but do I really want to expose them to my parents? Mom and Dad usually behave at least a little better with company around, but there are no guarantees. It will be a chance to show them I’ve made some good friends, and that’s one of the reasons I spend most weekends on campus.
I’ve warned my friends my parents can be difficult, but they say it’s no big deal—parents are supposed to be difficult. Marissa said that it’s part of their job description. Maybe
so, but they don’t know my mom and dad. The girls don’t really care, though—they’re just looking forward to some home cooking. And Mom is a very good cook, I’ve got to give her that.
Oh, well. Que sera, sera. We’ll see how it goes.
Dad pulls over to the curb at precisely five o’clock, as promised. One thing I’ve got give the guy, he’s punctual as all get out. We climb into the car, me in the front seat, my three friends in the back, with Stacie getting stuck in the middle.
The car smells deliciously of fresh-baked apple pie. Dad has obviously stopped at the bakery on the way here. He knows I love pie, so I appreciate the effort—even though he loves it, too.
The Zombies “Tell Her No” is blasting from the stereo. My dad loves old rock music, so I’ve heard his songs forever, but I wonder if my friends even know who The Zombies are.
“I love this song,” Marissa says. “The Zombies are cool.”
I guess that answers my question.
Dad turns around and smiles. “You have good taste, young lady.”
He pulls away from the curb and we’re on our way. I mentally cross my fingers that this whole thing doesn’t turn out to be a disaster.
Traffic isn’t too bad, and we’re home in less than twenty-five minutes. I lead my friends into the house while Dad gets the pie out of the back. As soon as I step through the doorway, Sam is all over me, his tail wagging furiously. As I scratch the sides of his neck with both hands, I can smell pepperoni pizza drifting in from the kitchen.
Once Sam has calmed down a bit, I introduce him to the girls. Marissa and Katie fawn over him, but Beth keeps her distance. I guess in addition to not doing woods, she doesn’t do animals, either. Sam doesn’t care. He’s getting more than enough attention from Marissa and Katie to keep him happy.
Finally, they straighten up, and I introduce them to my mom, who’s been standing there watching and waiting.
“It’s so nice to meet all of you,” she says. “I hope we’ll see you often.”
“Be careful what you ask for,” Marissa jokes. “Dorm food is no prize.”
Mine: A Love Story Page 10
