“I see,” I replied with a cautious smile. “I’m Celia, freshman, with no fan club at all, and a pre-med student.”
“Cool, I’ll know who to go to if I get poisoned by paint thinner fumes.” Her smile was warm and contagious.
“Not yet, I couldn’t diagnose a cold at this point in time. But give me a year or two,” I joked, and luckily, she laughed along with me.
“Great, that gives us time to get our food then. Do you think we’ll get fed tonight?” Her accent was southern, and I knew she was a transplant just like me.
“I hope so. It’s either this or that last pack of donuts I left in my cupboard.”
“You have cupboards in your dorm? I can barely fit in a pair of shoes in mine. Of course, my roommate has taken most of the space up with all of her ‘necessities.’ I’m only there to sleep most days, so it doesn’t matter anyway. How are you doing, Celia? You coping okay?”
I looked at her light green eyes and felt my own eyes well up. Not a single person had asked me that in the last week, not even my mom.
“It’s hard, being so far away from home, with so much around us. I’m used to the country and not hearing a thousand cars pass me by in an hour.”
“I know what you mean. I come from a little country town in Virginia, a place you couldn’t find on a map if you tried. This takes getting used to, but luckily, I wasn’t very social in high school, so it’s not been too hard for me.”
“I’m glad.” And I meant it, even though this girl was a total stranger to me.
We talked about our classes, found out we had an English class together and decided we’d do our project for that class together. It was nice to finally have someone to talk to that didn’t have an agenda or make me feel edgy.
I love my family, there’s no doubt about that, but even when I talked to them, I felt as if I was on edge. I didn’t want to worry them, so I had to pretend I didn’t feel alone, that I wasn’t on the verge of running right back home.
Then there was Rachel and her nonsense. I didn’t know if I was coming or going with her, and Becky brought it home to me that Rachel might not be the best roommate in the world after all.
Our food came and we stopped the chatter while we ate. She had a chicken salad with ranch dressing and a nice baguette on the side. I liked that change. Back home you’d get crackers or maybe some croutons, but here you got real bread with your salad.
“What do you plan to do for the rest of the night?” she asked and I glanced over at my phone. It had been steadily buzzing since she sat down, but I’d ignored it until now.
“I have a friend I text at night.” I wasn’t sure why I admitted that to her, but I did.
She leaned closer, a conspiratorial smile on her face. I could picture her in a beret and dark lipstick, a black choker around her neck, suddenly, and I had to blink to make the picture go away. “A friend, huh?”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it and felt my cheeks turn into twin flames. “Yeah, a friend.”
“Good. We all need someone to make us smile. Tell you what, since I butted in on your meal, how about I pay for it? No, don’t argue, I’ve got it covered.”
I still tried to protest but she wasn’t having it. “Fine, thank you.”
“My pleasure. Oh, give me your phone.” I did and she quickly punched in her number for me. “Give me a call tomorrow when you have some free time. We’ll have dinner or something.”
“Thanks, that sounds nice.” I didn’t have money for it, but she’d bought me dinner tonight, so she’d saved me some already. I had planned to splurge on three nights of decent dinner in the school cafeteria with this dinner, tomorrow I could eat a smaller meal. It would do me good, anyway.
“Great. I need to get back to my painting, but it’s been wonderful, Celia. Thanks, and have a good night.” She stood up, touched my shoulder briefly, and walked out into the night.
Well, I decided, I’d told Rachel I was going to eat with friends that I’d made up, but it seems I’d made one without even trying. Maybe going out occasionally wasn’t so bad after all. Now, to get back to my phone.
I raced back to the dorm, ready to talk to him more. Honestly, sometimes, I think he’s the only thing that keeps me here. My job at the library bored me to tears. I had no life, and I needed to study.
Which was another really sweet thing about Keith. He knew when I said I had to study not to push. I’d told him a little about my life, about my family, and why I worked so hard. Which was also why he didn’t push me to meet. I was glad about that because I was too nervous to agree to that yet.
I barely knew him, after all. What if he was some psycho, or unattractive? Not that I judged people by their looks, but sometimes people just didn’t click. What if the chemistry we had in the texts wasn’t real and the moment we met we hated each other?
I didn’t want to lose the one person that kept me sane in this place. Although, I have a feeling Becky might become someone I could grow to be close to. She’d made me laugh, and she was nice, I sighed as I remembered thinking about the same about Rachel. I wasn’t a good judge of character that was for sure, but there couldn’t be two girls like Rachel on campus? Could there?
Chapter Ten
Celia
I looked up when I saw someone pass, but it wasn’t Becky. She was late, but she did that sometimes when she was busy on a new project. She’d forget the time, but she’d show up eventually as she’d been doing every week for the last month.
It wasn’t her that had my mind on returning home, though. It was Rachel.
Instead of getting better, our relationship seemed to have fallen completely apart. Especially when the recruitment for pledges started and Rachel fell in with that sorority. I wasn’t much of a joiner. In fact, I’d basically dropped out of every club I joined by not going to their meetings. Rachel went to the ones that she knew would get her noticed by the sorority sisters and had made a point of being seen. When pledge-week started, well, she was already on their list, wasn’t she?
I, on the other hand, studied, worked, went out to eat with Becky once a week, and talked to my sexy texter. I still wasn’t sure it was even him. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes, I’d swear there was more than one person texting me.
The tone would change, the words used would be different. Sometimes the text would be more somber, and he’d use sensual words, romantic words to talk to me. Then, at other times, he’d tell me how he wanted to fuck me so much he couldn’t stand it, that he wanted to be in my pussy. And other times? Well, he was interested, but it just wasn’t the same as at other times. He wanted to know about me, who I was, what I liked, what I did with my day.
I was kind of confused by it all. I was always me when we texted, I never changed, but no matter how he wanted to talk to me, I was happy to talk back. Even if he was complicated.
And now he wanted to meet. He’d asked me enough times, and I’d always found some excuse. I had to work, but what I really wanted to write was…I’m not sure you’ll like my thick thighs. I had to study for a test when I really couldn’t be sure if he would like how soft my stomach was. I knew he’d like my breasts; they were the kind that men often paid attention to, but the rest of me?
I was afraid he had a girl like Rachel in his mind when he thought about me, not a woman that looked like me.
I wasn’t too bad. I’d lost some weight in the last month, all the walking and less eating, I had to, especially with NY prices. I had to watch my pennies. Or maybe it was stress. Either way, my pants were loose on me now, and my bras weren’t so tight. My hair looked glossier here too, the conditioner Becky had given me made it so silky smooth that it fell down my back like a golden wave now, even when I let it air dry.
I’d also taken to wearing makeup more often. Not a lot, just some foundation, eyeliner, and a little more shadow. I had a mini collection in the boxes that my family sent me because the only makeup I’d ever worn was what Mom had on her dresser. Even then she would always apply i
At least in the evenings and that one English class, I had Becky to talk to. Not on the phone, or over a text messaging service, but face to face. She made me laugh, think about things with the way she talked about current events, and often left me with a smile on my face.
Then she’d have to get back to her project, and I’d be alone until he came along. Usually, around eight or nine pm, he’d send me a message, and my fingers would be busy for the rest of the night. Neither of us had suggested calling each other yet. I was too afraid to and he hadn’t said anything. I guess we both just liked to text better.
But last night, he’d gone straight from chatting to ‘let’s meet, for real this time, no more excuses.’ That had been what his text had said. I’d stared at it for ages. My reply had been simple.
Okay.
And then I’d panicked and spent the rest of the night and today in a panic. What would I wear? How would I know it was him? Would he like me? Would he see me and run away? Would he talk to me and then laugh in my face? Or would he talk and then never text me again? So many possibilities and I only saw the negatives.
Becky would change that; she would remind me that not everybody was cruel. She was one example of that. She paid every time we met here at the diner, even when I protested. She had a little extra money, she said, I should let her pay because it made her happy to do it. I hated to admit it, but she saved me a lot of embarrassment by paying. I wouldn’t have been able to go out this much, otherwise.
I’d kind of told her about my texter, and how we talked every night and sometimes during the day and even in the morning, but not what we talked about. She’d wanted to know about him, if I planned to meet him, was it love? Her artist’s mind expanded the whole thing into a love story and made it sound so much more romantic than a man would think it was.
“It’s like the way people used to have pen-pals isn’t it? It’s just a faster way to write to each other. I think it’s sweet,” she’d told me. Yeah, that made me feel a lot better. It wasn’t so weird after all when she explained it like that for me.
I finally saw her but became distracted when one very gorgeous man walked by her. He glanced at me, smiled a little, and then kept on in the direction he was headed. He was so beautiful, that I kept right on staring. He had light brown hair, cut short on the sides, but a little long on top, just enough to get a grip on, I thought with a very dirty grin.
Becky rushed in, her delighted eyes on my stunned face. He was just that gorgeous.
“Oh, don’t bother paying attention to that one. He’s out for one thing and one thing only. If you want to have a fun night with no strings attached, he’s your guy, but otherwise, nope. Don’t go near him. He is not the dating kind.”
“What a shame.” I kind of whispered as he headed into the distance. I was just in the right position to watch him as he walked away. “He has such a lovely ass.”
“He has lovely everything from what I’ve heard,” Becky whispered with a wink. “But not your type, I think.”
“Hm. Too bad.” I put my things under the table and leaned forward. “Tell me, how is your project going?”
We chatted about the painting she was working on for a few minutes, and then the waiter with the biggest crush on a woman I’d ever seen came to take our orders. Apparently, he gave her his employee discount once a day, and she’d promised that one day when she wasn’t so busy, she’d go out with him. And it wasn’t a lie. He was a grad student over at the university, and he worked here to have some money to eat on.
Another poor medical student, but he was nice, and he made her smile, so I hoped he went far. Especially during those times when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Some days, she’d come in here full of artistic exuberance, and his logical on-his-way-to-a-doctor’s mind would calm her down. It was something to see, really. The perfect match, if I’d ever seen one.
“So, what’s your news?” she asked me finally, a milkshake in front of her. She had one every time she came in here, which was still three times a day and gained no weight. I hated her body for not being mine, sometimes.
“I have agreed to meet my friend. Kind of.”
“Oh? Kind of? What does that mean?”
“It means I said okay, but nothing else.”
“I think you need to do it, Celia. You’re going to torment yourself to death if you don’t.”
“You’re right.” I could argue with her logic, even though I wanted to.
“It’ll be great, Celia. Don’t worry. A man that’s spent that long talking to you has some self-control. He isn’t the kind that will run away just because you don’t look like what you want to look like. He knows your heart now, your passions, and what makes your brain tick over. This guy is a poet, I just know it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not expecting to get me, no matter what you say. But I’ll do it. At some point.”
“Now, Celia. Before you lose your nerve.”
“Now? Are you kidding me?”
“Yes! Ask him to come and have a drink with us.” She smiled, pleased at her idea. I wasn’t so sure about it, but I picked up my phone. At least she’d be here if he laughed and walked away, but something inside me wanted to tell her the truth. I just couldn’t tell her that the only thing we did was dirty text with each other. No, not only would I lose the dirty texter, but I’d lose my one friend on campus. Something that I wasn’t willing to do.
Chapter Eleven
Keith
“Look, you started this shit, not me. You go meet her.” I stuck my head back into the textbook I’d been reading and tried to get back into it. I had a test in the morning and didn’t have time for girls, even ones I’d wanted to fuck for over a month.
“But you’re the smooth talker, Keith, not me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I closed the book and turned to my bro. “You’re the one that talks about how you want to take her against a wall until she sweetly screams your name. I tell her I want to bang her against the wall, with her ass sliding on my cock. You’re the poetic one.”
“Actually, Colin’s the one that asks her about who she is, what she does and all of that stuff,” my sensitive brother said. I knew that’s what this was about. He didn’t want to meet her because he was afraid he’d fuck it all up. A year ago, he’d have been eager to hook up but now? He wasn’t the man he used to be; I knew that much.
“Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not meeting her at that shitty diner. Tell her to meet us at the bar across the road. That way I can just bring her back to the house.” We lived in a brownstone mansion, something our little Iowa girl would gawp at I thought, but she’d probably be too timid to explore it until she got to know us better.”
“What’s going on?” Colin asked as he came into the living room where we usually congregated when we were at home. “What did I miss?”
“Our little texting friend wants to meet,” I said, with a triumphant smile on my face thinking that it was half the truth. I asked and she replied agreeing to it.
“Tonight.”
“Cool. Are you going?” It wasn’t even a question of which of us should go. He knew the girls couldn’t get enough of my charms.
. If any of us could reel her into our little game it was me. Grant would be too timid, and give the fucking game away, and ask for Colin? Well, he could be cold, which is why he was studying to be a surgeon. He had a heart of stone, I’m fairly certain. But our girl’s texts had caught his eye, just as I knew it would when I read the messages she’d exchanged with Grant.
After that first night, we all took turns talking to her, learning about her. We would read old messages she’d shared with one brother and continue the conversation as if we were the other brother. One man, three bodies. It was insane, I know, but fuck if it wasn’t good when we could share a woman like that. It brought us all together, in a way that nothing else ever had.
“Of course, I’m going. You think Mr. Broken-Wing over there can do it? Nah, I got this. You two just be out of sight if I come back with her. We don’t want to spring this on her too soon.”
“No problem. I’m beat. Tell me how it goes tomorrow.” Colin walked out and I heard his footsteps as he went up to his bedroom.
I took a deep breath and turned to Grant. “Tell her to give me twenty minutes, and then I’ll be at the bar.”
“Don’t you want to tell her what you’ll be wearing?” Grant asked, his face uncertain.
“No. I want to figure out which one she is.”
I ran up, showered, and changed before the ten-minute mark. A slight spray of cologne, a comb through my hair, and I was ready to go. My curiosity was piqued, mainly because I’d never seen little Miss Rachel again and she’d said this girl was her roommate. Now that she’d disappeared, I had the feeling she was playing some kind of game, but the friend was… interesting.
I kind of suspected this “friend” was Rachel but didn’t bank on it. I’d lost interest in the delights she might hold and if this friend had been set up by Rachel, then I felt bad for her. And I’d come to enjoy her texts too, there was no denying that. I wasn’t sure either of these girls was ready for me but ready or not, I was on my way.
I left the house with a jaunty step, dressed in a black sweater that fitted the muscular frame I worked hard to maintain, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a pair of leather loafers. Not too showy, but the watch on my left wrist and the ring on my right, my family’s crest, did that for me. Just enough bling to dazzle.
So, who was the sweet, innocent girl that could now type the word pussy without ten minutes of hesitation, I wondered? Was she even real, I had to wonder. I hadn’t discussed my concerns with my brothers, which was another reason I’d agreed to meet her instead of forcing Grant to do it. If there was fuckery afoot, I wanted to be the one that dealt with it.
-->
