Another New Life

by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

  "No, just show up," Troy said as J walked away with Steph in tow.

  "Bye, Miranda," Steph said with a hint of curiosity in her tone.

  In the next forty-five minutes, a continuous sea of people either waved at Troy from across the quad or came to sit down for a quick chat. Everyone asked about the party.

  As more and more people came by, I understood Troy's popularity. His team loved him; apparently their girlfriends too. Watching him interact with all these people, who knew him so well, reminded me how much I didn't know about him, and how much he didn't know about me.

  "I have to get to class," I said as the last group of his friends came and went.

  "Sorry about that; maybe we need to find a more private place."

  I wasn't sure if he noticed, but during the parade of people, I had scooted further and further away from him.

  "That's okay. You're a popular guy," I said, a bit more sarcastic than I intended. This time I'm sure he noticed, but he didn't comment.

  "So, tonight, you want me to pick you up?"

  "Can I bring Darcy?" I asked.

  "Yeah, sure."

  "Text me the address, and I'll meet you there." I threw our cups away, and when I turned back around Troy stood in front of me. "Have a good practice."

  I gave him a quick hug, patted him on the back, and headed for class. Relieved to be able to escape and think.

  After performance class, I ran into Darcy on my way back to the dorm. On a normal day, I would describe Darcy as happy. Today, her energy oozed out of her pores, and when she spoke, her voice rose another octave.

  "I have a date," Darcy said, "with a boy."

  "Who?"

  "Robert. He's in my biology class. He's so cute, and he asked me to dinner and then to a party," she said, and started dancing a little jig.

  "That's great," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I agreed to go to Troy's party, but the more I saw him with his friends, the more I realized I didn't want to go alone. At least with Darcy, I would know someone besides him.

  "What's wrong?" Darcy asked.

  "Troy's throwing a party tonight and asked me to come."

  "That's the party we are going to. Cool, you have a date tonight, too."

  "No, it's not a date, he told me about it and said we should stop by." We headed into the dorm and caught the elevator up to the fourth floor.

  "Okay, so go and I'll meet you there."

  "Maybe." I opened the door and collapsed on my bed. "I am exhausted, and the first week isn't even over."

  "Why are you so stressed? We haven't gotten to the hard part of college yet."

  “What's the hard part?"

  "Try making it to your eight am class on Monday, after binge drinking on Friday and Saturday and breaking up with a guy on Sunday morning after catching him making out with his ex-girlfriend in your bathroom."

  I turned over and looked at her. She said all of that in one breath. No wonder she got lightheaded sometimes.

  "You are crazy."

  "I guess it’s exhausting, lusting after the cutest boy on campus."

  "I haven't been lusting after anyone." I sat up. "Besides, Troy's not the cutest boy on campus."

  "Yeah he is, and I've been taking notes."

  "I'm not lusting after him."

  "And what do you call those far-off, dazed looks you get every once in a while? I know you're thinking about him with no shirt on."

  "I am not."

  "You're blushing." Darcy sat down. "Let's face it, sweetie, you're so into the cutest, most popular guy on campus."

  "I don't blush," I said as I tried to cool down my hot cheeks.

  The thought of it should have made me smile, but instead, it left me feeling nauseous.

  For the next hour, I watched Darcy's "going on a date"' ritual. She spent twenty minutes putting on her makeup, and another twenty minutes blow-drying, curling, and then blow-drying her hair again. She tried on four different outfits, and I graded each one on a scale from one to five, five being the sexiest.

  "Okay, I'll wear the three and a half. It is our first date, after all. Don't want to give it all away up front."

  "That's practical," I said as I rolled my eyes.

  "What are you wearing?"

  "I don't know. Clothes?"

  "Come on, Rand, you should wear something cute for Troy."

  "I think you are way over exaggerating the importance of this evening. It's a party."

  Darcy sat down across from me on her bed.

  "No, it's not." Her facial expression went quickly from playful to serious. "This is the first big social situation for the soon-to-be epic relationship that is Troy and Miranda. It wouldn't hurt you to wear something with a little color in it."

  "You sound like my mother."

  "Yeah, I know. I'm wise beyond my years."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know." She smiled and walked back to the mirror for another look. Darcy performed in front of the mirror until she was satisfied her outfit was date worthy. I hadn't decided yet if her personality made her adorable or annoying. I tried hard not to be so judgmental, but we were so different.

  Darcy's phone rang a few minutes later.

  "Okay, how do I look?"

  "You look nice."

  "Nice?"

  "You look gorgeous. I'd do you."

  "Miranda." Darcy blushed as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. "I'll see you at the party."

  She ran out the door before I could answer.

  Troy and Miranda. The beginning of Troy and Miranda. I think Darcy overstated it a bit. We'd known each other our entire lives, but it didn’t count because we hadn’t seen each other in eight years. A lot had happened in those eight years.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be Troy and Miranda. I had enough trouble trying to just be me.

  I smiled at the memory of our parents referring to us as Troy and Miranda like a combined entity. We had been inseparable.

  As far as the popularity thing went, Darcy was right, and a week on campus proved it. Everyone knew Troy.

  During the first week of school, everywhere I turned, promotional posters with his green eyes stared back at me.

  Troy had plenty of girls chasing him. I refused to be another one.

  We could just be friends. He'd understand. Besides, I didn't want to go to the party. He has so many friends. He wouldn’t even miss me.

  When I finished convincing myself that not showing up tonight was no big deal, I headed out the door.

  ***

  I grabbed a sandwich and coffee in the student center before heading to the music hall. I ran into Professor Davidson as I walked in the building.

  "Oh, hello Miranda. How's your first week of school going?"

  "Pretty good."

  "You heading into practice? I thought you left a couple of hours ago. No plans tonight?"

  "Yes, I plan to practice."

  "I would never say this to most students, but there is such a thing as too much practice."

  "I got inspired and wanted to work on something."

  This answer seemed to satisfy him, and he left.

  I wish I had been inspired. I had not written a piece of music all week. I found it difficult to concentrate on writing, but this week even more than others. My mind was consumed with so many reflective thoughts. I kept telling myself to get a grip. College was my opportunity to learn life lessons and discover the direction I wanted to go in, but I didn't need to do it all in the first week.

  I sat down at the piano and warmed up with some Rachmaninoff, a long piece. I loved how it ran through the gamut of emotions. It started lite and jumpy and moved into long, deep phrases full of extended notes. I played through it twice.

  I bought some new sheet music before I left Seattle and decided to tackle that, working on the difficult sections first. I loved challenging music I'd never played before. Most popular music I could hear once and play it, but a new piece with a complicated note series
and expressions made it sound so sweet once I figured it out.

  I worked on this one particular sequence of notes for a while, and kept missing a note in the middle, but it was a different note every time. I played it over and over again. Someone listening might have thought I sounded crazy, but when I got it, I played it once and smiled, played it again and bliss spread from my fingers to my whole body, and I played the sheet music to the end of the page.

  My focus didn't allow for anything else to distract my senses. Not even when someone walked through the door.

  When I finished, I took my hands off the keys and looked up. My heart jumped into my throat.

  "Jesus, Troy, you scared the shit out of me."

  "I'm sorry, I though you saw me walk in." He walked toward the piano. "I knocked, but you didn't hear me. What were you playing? It sounded amazing."

  "It's called 'Two Rhapsodies,' by Brahms."

  "You've come a long way from playing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.'" Troy laughed, but I smiled, surprised that he remembered my first recital song. I had been six.

  "What are you doing here? I though you were throwing a party."

  "The party’s still going on. When Darcy showed up without you, I came looking for you."

  "How did you know where to find me?"

  "You're either in the dorm, the quad, or here; I took a guess." His eyes turned down. "I thought you were coming over tonight."

  "I had some stuff to work on." I couldn't look him in the eye. "Besides, I'm not into parties."

  Lame excuse, I know, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him how much I liked him, and how I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't express how much I wanted to be with him but was scared, because I didn't know how to function in his world. Every guy on campus knew him, and every girl on campus wanted him. I dealt with popular guys in high school, and it didn't turn out so well for me. I wanted him, but more then that, I didn't want to disappear again. That scared me the most.

  As I stood up, he reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled it away and back away from the piano, watching him. He continued towards me until I backed into the wall. I had nowhere else to go.

  “Don’t you need to get back,” I said.

  He shook his head and leaned into me.

  Troy’s proximity made it hard for me to breathe normal. My heart raced, and a drop of sweat started at my neck and slid all the way down my spine. As it descended, the panic ascended to my throat. The anxiety attack was inevitable. He grabbed my arm with more authority and moved closer, our faces inches apart.

  He hesitated for a split second, but it was all the time I needed for my anxiety to get the better of me. I seized the opportunity to escape and headed for the door, but after one step, the grip on my triceps grew stronger. Troy had no intention of letting go. When I turned back to protest, there was no hesitation this time. His lips landed on mine.

  At first, it didn't register. My surprise prevented me from kissing him back. He must have noticed. He pulled away. My stress level rose again because for him to stop kissing me seemed like the worst idea in the world. A hurricane, earthquake, and volcanic eruption combined didn't seem as big of a disaster as Troy's lips leaving mine. So I kissed him back.

  I felt the relief in his lips as he relaxed.

  I was keenly aware of the way his lips tasted, all smooth and wet and there was a hint of peppermint. Maybe I imaged it, but it made me giggle. I stopped when Troy stopped kissing me.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "I thought you would taste like peppermint, and you do."

  He smiled and kissed me again. His grip on my arm didn't loosen, but he had nothing to worry about; I wasn't going anywhere. His other hand had moved up my arm and rested on my neck, his thumb rubbing my face.

  The space between our bodies seemed unacceptable. My hands grabbed the sides of his shirt, and I pulled him closer. He let out a grunt, and I giggled again.

  His hand released my arm, starting at my neck and moving down my spine, taking the same path as my stress-induced sweat. As he pulled me even closer, I kissed him deeper.

  When we came up for air, we stood there holding each other.

  "I can't believe we waited so long to do that," Troy said.

  "Yeah, sixteen years," I said as he kissed my cheek. "We’d better cool it. It's hard enough for me to concentrate in this room without the memory of making out with you to contend with."

  "So you have been thinking about me?"

  "Maybe. Two classes in, I still have no idea what's going on in calculus," I said and smiled, attempting to be coy. Troy's eyes widened, and he smiled, but didn't take his eyes off my lips. He kissed me, again. Light, soft kisses that stole my breath each time.

  "We'll... work... something... out," Troy spoke between kisses. "We'll steal Ryan's notes."

  I laughed out loud and pushed him away, afraid if we stayed in each other’s arms another second longer, we wouldn't be able to let go.

  ***

  I gnawed my lower lip and prayed Troy wouldn't notice my sweaty palms as we walked back to the dorm hand in hand.

  "Why do you look so serious?"

  I loved the way he looked at me but wished he would stop watching me. I couldn't hide anything from him.

  "I'm a little concerned about what all"—I pointed to the two of us—"is happening right now, between us."

  "A little concerned?"

  "Okay, totally freaked out," I said. "You are the big man on campus, and social situations tend to give me an anxiety attack."

  "I am not the big man on campus," he said as we passed a life-size poster of him standing in front of a team of the newest recruits with the title, “UT's Football Future.”

  I stopped and studied the photo.

  "Okay, that doesn't mean anything." We continued walking. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when you’re with me."

  "I know. This isn't your issue. It's mine."

  When we reached the courtyard by the dorm, I led Troy to a table, and we sat down. He kept rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb, and I had to tap my foot in order to concentrate. I needed to get this out now while I had the nerve. I didn't even know if these were the type of conversations boyfriends and girlfriends had.

  "Are you sure your ready to date me?" I asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.

  "Why would you ask that?"

  "You're nineteen years old, and the hottest guy on campus. You should be dating around, hooking up with girls.”

  "If it makes you feel any better, I spent enough time in my life hooking up with girls to know with certainty," he said.

  "Know what?"

  "That I want to be with you."

  I searched his face. I had no control over my own insecurities. I had allowed guys to use me in the past, but I needed to develop a new approach to go along with my new life. What better person to experience a new approach then with my oldest friend? But still.

  "After eight years, I got my best friend back. If it didn't work out—"

  He put his hand behind my neck to make me face him.

  "I don't want to lose you again,” I whispered.

  He leaned over to kiss me, trying to convince me with his lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

  I believed him.

  ***

  I went back to the dorm and found Darcy already in bed, reading a trashy novel.

  "You're home early. What happen to your date?"

  "I caught him making out with his ex-girlfriend in the bathroom."

  I turned on the water to wash my face, but turned it off and sat down at the foot of her bed.

  "No you didn't," I said.

  "No, it wasn't the bathroom, it was on the kitchen counter in front of everyone.” She sat up. "It was embarrassing. What a dick!"

  "Darcy Albritton!"

  "I know, but it made me so mad."

  I gave her a hug, and she hugged me back and then pushed me away. "Wait a minute, you don't hug people. Wh
at's wrong?"

  "What do you mean I don't hug people? We hug all the time."

  "No, I hug you all the time, you never initiate a hug." A smile spread across her face. "Did Troy find you?"

  I smiled back and headed to the bathroom.

  "Oh, no you don't, Ms. Thing, you come back here and tell me what happened.”

  "Let me get ready for bed first."

  She barely allowed me to get under the covers before she said, “ Okay, spill it.”

  "There's not much to tell."

  "Oh, come on."

  "Really. We talked. We kissed. We talked some more. He walked me home, and here I am."

  "Geez, you are the worst storyteller ever."

  "What do you want to hear, that he kissed me, and it took every bit of strength I possessed not to throw him on the piano and have my way with him?"

  "Now we're getting somewhere."

  "I didn't throw him anywhere." I stood up, because I couldn't sit still. My brain swarmed with doubts about whether I should do this or not. "I don't know."

  "What don't you know? Troy is so hot, and to top it all off, he is a good guy. Will you sit down?"

  I sat down.

  "After all these years, I found my best friend again. What if it doesn't work out?"

  "Why won't it work out?" Darcy got serious on me. "When I showed up without you tonight you should have seen the look on his face. He was so disappointed."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, he tried to be casual, but he was like, 'Why didn't she come?'"

  "And what did you say?"

  "I said I didn't know," Darcy said. "I didn't know. I thought you liked him."

  "I do."

  "But, what? Why can't it work out?" Darcy crossed her arms over her chest.

  "Because I'm eighteen and he's nineteen. Only people from small-town Arkansas get married in their teens."

  She dropped her arms and studied the floor.

  "I'm sorry. I was just joking." I got up and nudged her as I sat down on her bed.

  "No one has to get married here, I'm just saying you have to find out."

  "Find out what?"

  "Find out if the boy you've known all your life could be your soul mate."

  "You are so idealistic."

  "That's not a bad thing. I may be from a small town, but even I know better than to try and intellectualize love. Love is love, that's it."