by Maria Monroe
"Good."
"Would it bother you if I did?"
So quickly, he moves directly in front of me, his face close to mine.
"As a matter of fact, it would," he says quietly, but with an edge of anger or maybe jealousy. "I would beat the crap out of him if he tried anything with you again. I don't want you going out with anyone else. Not when we're having our . . . study sessions."
"Well, what about you?"
"Lia, since the first day you were here in my living room with Vanessa, I haven't even thought about another girl. So no, I won't be seeing anyone else either."
"OK." I force casualness into the word, but inside I’m doing cartwheels and leaps all over the place. He hasn’t thought about other girls!
"OK," he responds, and we stare at each other for a long time.
"I have to go," I finally say.
"Don't stay out too long," he says as he walks me to the door. "You're all wet, and with the cold . . . well, you better get into some dry clothes soon."
I blush hard and hurry back to my dorm.
Chapter Six
Greer's been fighting with her boyfriend and spending a lot of time in our dorm room, something I'm not used to. All she wants to do is listen to music, most of it depressing, and hound me about Julian, and even though I keep giving her the same answer—that there's nothing going on—she keeps asking. But I'm not about to tell her about our "lessons," despite the fact that it's practically all I think about. How can I not? I can't wait for Friday, to see Julian in class and then, afterward, to go back to his room. Part of me thinks it's good that Greer's around so much, otherwise I might not be able to keep my promise to Julian, to complete my homework satisfactorily. Or to not complete it, as the case may be.
"So, like, he invited you to that party?" she asks during one of our multiple conversations about Julian, all of them started by her. "Like, did he ask you in class?"
"No. His sister invited me."
"His sister?" Greer looks at me curiously. I realize I haven't told her I'm friends with his sister, that though Julian and I met in class, we probably wouldn't be friendly if it wasn't for Vanessa.
"Yeah. I met her and she invited me over, and I had no idea she was his sister."
"Well, then it's good that there's nothing going on between you and Julian," says Greer knowingly.
I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly, even though I have a good idea what she's going to say next.
"You know," she says. "Bros before hoes?"
"Greer, that's what guys say."
"Chicks before dicks, then? Same difference? Like, you can't screw over a friend for a guy."
"I'm not screwing anyone over. There's nothing going on." But the lie tugs at my stomach, makes me feel queasy. There is something going on, obviously, and the fact that Vanessa doesn't know about it and wouldn't approve makes me feel like a jerk. More than that, it makes me a jerk. What kind of a friend am I? But I can't see a way out. If I tell Vanessa, I'll lose my friendship with her and probably my "relationship" with Julian as well.
It feels worse, too, because Vanessa wants to hang out. I make excuses the first two times, but the third time she says, "Don't say no. Come on. I'm bored! Just come over and watch stupid TV with me. Or we can go get breakfast or lunch or whatever. Come on!"
"OK," I say. I do want to hang out with Vanessa, but I feel guilty being around her, and I'm worried that Julian will be there, that Vanessa will notice something between us. I'm not sure how good I can be at pretending we're just two people in the same class anymore.
I head over to Vanessa and Julian's purple Victorian late in the morning on Tuesday. I knock on the door, and when I hear Vanessa trill, "Come on in!" I'm hopeful that she's alone.
I step inside and sigh in relief to see Vanessa lounging on the couch by herself. Immediately I'm more relaxed. There’s a chance Julian might be in his bedroom—the door’s shut—but at least for now I'm all right.
"I'm starving," says Vanessa. "Also, what do you think about dreads?"
"Dreads?"
"Yeah. Dreadlocks?"
"Just in general?"
"No, silly, for me!"
"Seriously? I don't know, Vanessa." I eye her shiny long hair and think about what a pity it would be to turn it purposely into something knotted. "It's so pretty the way it is."
"Yeah, but it's just hair. It'll grow. And anyway, my time to do whatever I want is ending soon. I mean, what will my chances be of getting a teaching position looking literally like a hippie? Student teaching? They don't care. But for a real job? Now's my chance."
"Vanessa, honestly? You'll look great whatever hair style you have." I love that about Vanessa, that she's so free spirited and accepting, that she doesn't do what everyone else does just because it's popular.
"You are the sweetest," she says with genuine affection in her voice and smiles at me. "Wanna go to Sal's?"
"Yeah, because pie."
"You know, they do have things other than pie at Sal's."
"But why would I want to order something else?" I ask in mock confusion, and Vanessa laughs, her voice high and pure. She grabs her wallet from her backpack and sticks it into her back pocket as we head to the door. I'm happy and excited to be spending time with Vanessa, and even the guilt I feel about Julian is dissipating a bit.
Until I hear a door open behind us and his voice. "Wait up."
I turn and there he is, a hint of muscular legs beneath his standard frayed jeans, a black T-shirt just tight enough to show the well-defined angles and muscles of his chest and arms. A cocky smile on his face as he smiles at us, like he's just done something sneaky but he knows he's going to get away with it. And of course he will.
"Who said you were invited?" asks Vanessa, rolling her eyes.
"Who says I need an invitation?" He smirks, putting on his hoodie and zipping it up. As he strides toward us he pulls the hood up over his head.
"Asshole," teases Vanessa, shoving him playfully.
"Yeah, but you love me anyway."
"That's only because I have to," says Vanessa. "What about poor Lia? She probably doesn't want you tagging along."
If only she knew!
"I don't mind," I mutter, as we start out the door. My cheeks are warm, my tongue dry.
"You don't have to be nice to him," says Vanessa blithely. "I hereby give you permission to treat him as shittily as I do."
"Shittily?" Julian laughs. "I don't think that's even a word. And if you're going to make up a word, make sure it's not an adverb. There's no good use for them, at least not in writing."
"So sorry we're not all journalism majors," says Vanessa.
"Lia is," says Julian. "Or will be. And you're in education. You should know better." He smiles and elbows her.
My name coming from his mouth so casually makes my stomach swirl, and despite the nerves I'm feeling in this awkward situation, my body is already responding to being near him, so many parts of me beginning to tingle in anticipation and in memory.
"Anyway," he continues, "Like Lia said, she doesn't mind if I come along. Right, Lia?"
"Oh shut up, Jules," says Vanessa. "Lia is way too nice to say she doesn't want you around even if she feels that way."
Julian glances over at me and winks, like the two of us share a special secret. No. We do share a secret, and I feel giddy, my pulse picking up and my nipples hardening under his stare as he raises a corner of his mouth at me in a mischievous half-grin, then looks straight ahead again. We're at Sal's, and he pulls the door open.
"After you." He holds it open for Vanessa and me. I follow Vanessa to a booth by the window, and when she slides into the booth on one side, I sit across from her assuming that Julian will sit next to his sister. Instead, though, he moves into the booth next to me, his body forcing mine over further as he does. He must have seen the surprise on my face because he laughs. "Cooties," he says gesturing at Vanessa, and in a very matter-of-fact tone.
"Yeah, well, I only got th
em from you," retorts Vanessa, grabbing a menu and opening it up.
All too aware of Julian's body so close to mine, I, too, open a menu and pretend to be studying it intently.
"Why are you bothering to read that?" teases Vanessa. "It's not like you ever order anything different."
"Oh yeah?" asks Julian. "What are you getting?"
"Pie," I murmur.
"Pie?"
"Yeah," I shrug. "I always get pie."
"Sweet tooth, huh?" says Julian. His voice is level, but I'm sure he's thinking something dirty, and I will my cheeks not to turn red. "What kind is the best?"
"Oh, they're all good," I respond. "Sal's got them up there in that display case so you can take a look . . . "
"Show me." He slips out of the booth and grabs my hand. "Be back, Sis," he says and pulls me across the restaurant to the pie case. I glance at Vanessa, worried that she'll find it weird that her brother is holding my hand and pulling me to the pastry display, but she's busy looking at her phone and doesn't seem to notice.
When we get to the case, we stop. Warmth emanates from his body. I swear I can feel it in the air between us as we stand there, our arms not quite touching. All my nerves are on fire, and the feeling is both enticing and uncomfortable because we're in public.
"So, I really like the apple," I begin, trying to break myself out of the weird trance I think I'm in, "but the banana . . . "
"I don't give a fuck about pie," Julian says in a low voice, cutting me off.
"Oh." My breath catches in my throat, a tingle growing between my legs.
"I keep imagining how you taste," he whispers leaning close so I can hear his words above the din of the diner.
"Oh," I repeat. My mind can't conjure up any other response to his voice, to what he's saying. My body responds though, wetness surging in my pussy.
"The noises you're going to make when I first touch you with my tongue. How wet you were in my bed."
I glance at his face and his eyes meet mine, hold them, while his mouth turns up into a grin. He pushes the hood of his sweatshirt off, and his dark brown hair is so thick and messy, both cute and sexy at the exact same time. The stubble on his cheeks looks rough, and if I only reach up I could feel it . . . But we're in public, and his sister doesn't know about us, and everything is still strange and confusing and up in the air. Still, my whole body is on alert, so in tune to his words and his tone, as though simply by talking he can do things to me. How is that even possible?
"You know what I think?" he says suddenly, a gleam in his eyes.
"What?"
"I think, Lia, that you should go into the bathroom and take off your panties. Bring them to me."
"Wait, what?" I glance around to make sure nobody heard, but the other customers are busy in conversations, and the restaurant is noisy with platters clanking and voices speaking. Nobody noticed a thing. Around us, people are carrying on as usual, completely unaware that in the midst of everything Julian and I are having such an intimate moment.
"You heard me, Lia."
"Is this part of my homework?"
"It's . . . extra credit." Julian grins at me, and somewhere inside a shudder begins, low and sweet, and I know that if he told me to strip right here in the middle of Sal's I probably would.
I nod, unable to speak.
"Are you going to do it?" He takes a step closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine.
I nod again.
"Say it, Lia. You know the rules."
"I'll do it," I whisper.
"Do what, Lia?"
"Go into the bathroom and take off my panties. And give them to you."
"Good girl." He stares at me as I turn and walk to the bathroom, my legs shaky, my face burning. I felt like I need a cold shower. Instead, I splash some water on my hot cheeks.
In the stall, I lock the door, then step out of my sneakers. I'm glad Sal keeps the floors really clean in here. I unzip my jeans, wanting to do this quickly, but also wanting to linger on each movement, imagining it's Julian doing these things instead of me. What if these were his hands on my zipper, his hands sliding my jeans down my hips? And his hands, touching the waist of my underwear, slipping his fingers inside.
For a few seconds, I touch myself, imagining how it will feel when Julian finally touches me there, with no clothes between my body and his fingers, and I shiver. I have to stop. Not only because it's weird to touch myself in a public bathroom, but also because Julian forbade it, and I have a feeling he'll somehow know I'm lying if I do and tell him I didn't. Plus, I want to do this. It’s incredibly hot and arousing to follow his instructions. I want to see how far he’ll go.
I slide my underwear off, pull up my jeans, and stick the panties in my pocket. When I'm dressed again, I wash my hands and step back out into the restaurant, then slide into the booth next to Julian.
"We ordered for you," says Vanessa. "I hope that's OK! I got a burger and fries, and I ordered you the chocolate cream pie, because Sal said it was fresh, and Julian got the banana cream pie."
"OK." I'm trying as hard as I can to sound normal, like nothing's going on. "That sounds perfect."
Vanessa's phone rings, and she rolls her eyes at it but answers anyway, talking loudly and laughing about something. Taking advantage of her distraction, Julian slides a little closer to me in the booth.
“Where are they?” he whispers.
“My pocket.”
I feel his hand against the outside of my thigh. His fingers are hot on my jeans, as though he's creating a visible trail of warmth as he moves them up slightly, then slides them into my pocket. I adjust my body slightly, lifting my hips a touch so he can reach in and retrieve the underwear, which he pulls out and then shoves into his pocket.
"I knew it," he whispers without looking at me, and so low that there's no way Vanessa, intent on her phone conversation, can hear.
"Knew what?"
"That they'd be wet." He doesn't look at me, but his voice feels like a caress, so intimate and knowing.
Sal appears at our table, smiling his usual broad grin at us."It's good to see you again, Lia," he says. "Looks like my pies keep you coming back, ayuh?"
I nod and force a smile onto my face.
"You feeling all right?" he asks, looking critically at me. "You look a little flushed."
Oh god. "I'm fine," I manage, giving him a wide smile to make up for my lack of conviction.
"All right, then," says Sal, setting our food on the table then walking away.
I'm about to bury my embarrassment in my pie when Julian suddenly reaches over with his fork and helps himself to a huge bite of my pie.
"Hey!" I exclaim.
"This is good," he says, mouth full.
"Pig," says Vanessa, but she's laughing too. "He's the biggest mooch ever," she informs me, swatting his hand away when he goes for a handful of fries.
"You owe me," I say, scooping up a bite of his pie with my fork. We both grab some fries from Vanessa's plate, and she protests but doesn't try to stop us.
This is fun, like I'm hanging out with real friends, just like I've wanted since coming to college. I can almost forget about all the tension. Almost. Except for the way my jeans are rough against my skin, no underwear as a buffer. And the heat emanating from Julian's body won't let me forget about our "lessons," and what's going to happen next.
And once, at the end of our meal, I pick up the last crumbs and chocolate from my plate with my finger, and when I put it in my mouth Julian's watching me, his face completely frozen, his eyes, green and brown and intense, staring into mine.
***
I don't see Julian or Vanessa for the next few days. Friday, though, is the only thing I think about, my mind unable to focus on anything except for Julian and our next "lesson" after Film Studies class. I speak to my parents, who confirm my trip home for Thanksgiving, still a month away. I look forward to seeing them, to being back home in Chicago, but not in the same desperate way I did earlier in the school year. So m
uch has changed since I met Julian and Vanessa, and I finally feel happy here at MUD, like I'm no longer wandering around trying to figure out what's going on while everyone else is having fun. I know my experience isn't quite the typical college freshman experience, but when I wake up every morning I feel the thrill of the unknown, of all the possibilities before me.
On Friday before class I dress and undress about a thousand times. The problem is, I have nothing sexy to wear, and I don't want to ask Greer, because she'll be full of questions I don't want to answer. I finally settle on jeans and a sort-of tight black turtle-neck, which isn't exactly the hottest outfit ever. I console myself with the reminder that he was attracted to me despite my boring clothes, so I don't necessarily need to change how I dress now. I put on a little bit of makeup—not enough to look like I tried too hard. I pull my hair up into a messy bun, then decide to leave it down. I'm nervous. And excited. And the anticipation feels like it's enough to kill me. I head to class on shaking legs, like I might just collapse on the way there.
When I enter the classroom, he doesn't look up. I see his long legs in beat-up jeans, the hood of his sweatshirt up, head bent down as he writes something in a notebook. I take a deep breath and walk towards the desk next to his. I sit down, and he still doesn't look up. I get comfortable, wondering if he's going to ignore me for the entire class, and enjoy the opportunity to check him out. His shoulders are broad and strong, and his hands, weirdly, turn me on. Looking at them reminds me of how they're capable of making me feel, and I hold back a shudder of desire. The planes of his face are strong and defined, and I think about that smirk he always gives me, and also the way his tongue feels on my lips, my neck, my nipples. Not in class! I tell myself.
After a few minutes, he stops writing and looks at me. "Lia," he says, his voice friendly, so casual you'd think there was nothing between us.
"Julian," I answer.
"This is for you." He hands me a folded note.
Professor Chooch begins talking about something, but my attention is only on the note. I unfold the paper and read: Lia, I can't wait till class is over so I can finally taste you. I am going to make you come so hard.
