It was the spring of my Freshman year in college, two weeks away from finals. I was in my dorm room at the University of Georgia, reading up for a test the next morning in my English Lit class, trying to ignore the phone call from three days earlier that was still playing in an endless loop in my head.
“Are you seeing anybody?”“No, Kevin, I’m not. You know I’m not.”“You’re not attracted to anybody, are you? If you are, I wish you’d just come out and tell me right now and be honest about it.”“God, how many times do I have to say it?”“Don’t curse at me, Kaitlyn.”“I wasn’t – fine. Sorry.”“Well – are you?”“Am I what?”“Attracted to anybody else?”“NO! GOD, how many times do I have to – ”“I told you, don’t curse – ”“I wasn’t fucking cursing, Kevin! NOW I’m fucking cursing!”“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”“You don’t even hear me when I DO talk to you!”“Well, maybe we shouldn’t talk for awhile, then.”“…Kevin…”“Maybe we should take a break.”“Kevin, come on – there’s only two weeks left, and then we’ll both be back home – ”“I don’t know who you are sometimes. You’re becoming more and more like your roommate – ”“I’M NOT SHANNA, Kevin! I’m with YOU! I’m in love with YOU!”“You don’t act like it sometimes.”“Jesus CHRIST, I might as well go ahead and cheat on you since you PUNISH me like I have anyway!”Silence.“…I can’t believe you just said that.”“Kevin… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it, it’s just you make me so MAD when you – ”“Go ahead. Sleep with whoever you want.”“KEVIN – ”Click.Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first time we’d had that conversation, almost word for word. In fact, we were approaching double digits.Kevin was my high school boyfriend in Savannah, Georgia. We’d been dating since 10th grade. He was so nervous when he asked me out the first time that he almost gave up halfway through. But he finally got all the way through it, and I said ‘yes.’ I liked him from the beginning; I grew to love him. He was a shy, sweet guy, very intelligent. We shared the same dreams of being world-class journalists someday. That’s how we met, working on the school newspaper.We dated five months before he finally kissed me. I lost my virginity to him in 11th grade, more than a year after we started dating. Sex was good with him. I never wanted to tear his clothes off in a half-insane state of passion… but he was attentive and considerate.But he was also incredibly insecure.He was that way from the start, but it got worse as time went on. I was a late bloomer – like, a late bloomer. I didn’t get my period until I was 14, and I remained skinny and gangly until I was 16. But all of a sudden in 11th grade, BAM, I kind of came into my own. Curves everywhere. My skin cleared up and I finally got a fashion sense. Boys started noticing me seemingly overnight. I got a lot of attention where I hadn’t before – like, ‘captain of the football team’ attention. I think one of the reasons Kevin finally got the nerve to ask me to have sex was because he was afraid he was going to lose me to somebody more aggressive. He thought that if we ‘sealed the deal,’ I’d stay with him.It was never about that for me. He was my first love, and I would have stayed with him no matter what. I definitely wouldn’t have cheated on him, ever. When I was twelve, my mom cheated on my dad with a business colleague of hers. Even though my parents ended up staying together, it destroyed my father. My brothers and I got front-row seats to the carnage. I hated my mom for a long time because of it. I eventually forgave her for what she did to my father and our family, but I swore to myself that I would never, ever put anybody through that.But things got worse when I went to college. I stayed in-state at UGA, while Kevin went to Syracuse University. Syracuse was both of our first choices, but only he got in. I planned to try to transfer for my Sophomore year, but in the meantime, he was in New York, and I was stuck in Athens, Georgia.The distance made him extremely paranoid. It was partly my fault; early on, I told him about some of the raunchier, alcohol-fueled shenanigans of my roommate, a crazy chick named Shanna Williams from California. About how she went to clubs and parties every night, and usually slept with a new guy every week. About how I would wake up at 2AM hearing the creaking springs in Shanna’s bed, and her whispering drunkenly, “Shhhh, you’ll wake up my roommate.” About the weirdness the morning after, when I had some naked stranger in my room.“It was sooo awkward – and I didn’t even sleep with him!” I laughed when I told Kevin.Hoo boy. Wrooooong thing to say.After the second time, I learned to keep my mouth shut about Shanna’s sexcapades.It wasn’t like he never saw me. We called or Skyped all the time. We saw each other every four or five weeks. Either he would drive the 15-hour trip down, or occasionally I would go up to stay with him, or we’d rendezvous in the middle at some crappy little hotel in the middle when he couldn’t stand being away from me any longer. Or, if truth be told, when I couldn’t stand the whininess anymore.And then the break-ups started.All of them were initiated by him.I was distraught over the first one. Wrecked. I cried for two days straight. It lasted a week, and then he called and begged me to take him back, said that he couldn’t live without me. I was elated.Four weeks later we broke up again, then got back together over Christmas break. I wasn’t so elated this time.Especially when it happened again in February.Why didn’t I break up with him completely?Because I was young and stupid.Because I loved him. Or, if it wasn’t really love, because I still cared for him. A lot.Because I’d lost my virginity to him.Because he was the only boy I’d ever been with.Because in March my application to transfer to Syracuse was accepted. I figured if I’d made it that far, I could hold out for another couple of months.But every month and a half, another damn breakup. And when we weren’t broken up, it was the endless, whining, insecure phone calls…It got so bad that every time his ringtone played – ‘Goin’ To The Chapel,’ by the way; he put it on there, NOT me – my whole body would tighten up, and I would think about not answering it.But I always did.It’ll get better, I told myself. When we’re together at Syracuse, it’ll be so much better.There were only two weeks left, and then we would spend all of college together.During World War II, soldiers had to go off to war and leave their girlfriends and wives behind for years, I reasoned. This is just a test of our love, that’s all.On the other hand, those girlfriends and wives never had to deal with freaked-out phone calls and Skype sessions obsessing over whether they were cheating or not.Truth was, I envied my roommate Shanna. She didn’t have a clingy boyfriend. Hell, she didn’t have a boyfriend at all. She slept with whomever she wanted, and she didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought.Well, actually, she learned to give a damn what I thought. After the fourth late-night hookup, I pitched a fit. So we worked out a compromise: no more overnight stays. One night a week she could bring somebody over, and I would go crash in a sofa chair in the community study room till they were through. But the rest of the time, she had to go to his place or screw him in the bushes or an alley or something. No exceptions.She kept to her end of the deal. In fact, as I was sitting there trying to concentrate on my boring-ass homework, I realized that she hadn’t brought anybody home in a couple of weeks.Speak of the Devil, and she shall appear.I heard the key fumble and scrape noisily across the lock. It was the sound I called ‘the Drunk Doorbell’ – a sure sign that Shanna was blasted.It was usually accompanied by ‘the Drunk Disclaimer.’“Shhhh,” she giggled out in the hallway. “We gotta be quiet cuz I got a roommate…”Ah, there it was.“I’m awake,” I called out. “You don’t have to be quiet.”The lock clicked and the door crashed open, and Shanna stumbled into the room. “Oh, thas’ good…”I turned around from my desk to look at her. She was cute – not gorgeous, but she had a great smile and knew how to work a push-up bra. And she was very outgoing. I’d had a lot of practice in fending off guys – most of them assholes, some of them charming – but I never, ever flirted with anybody. Shanna didn’t just flirt, she manhandled.“I didn’t wake you up, did I?”“No.”“It’s okay, right?” she asked, her eyes defocused, her body weaving slightly. “I haven’t had a Shanna Night in… awhile… right?”That’s what we called the ‘one night a w
But I played it as cool as I could, and gave him a You are SO full of shit smirk. “Studying’s important? Really.”He matched me grin for grin. “It obviously is to you.”Shanna was getting pissed that Derek was ignoring her. So she played her trump card.“Kaitlyn has a boyfriend,” she announced loudly.As soon as she said it, my stomach twisted with guilt – and anger.“No I don’t. We broke up three days ago, remember?” I snapped.“You always break up and get back together,” she said petulantly, then turned to Derek. “They’re high school sweethearts. They’ll be back together by tomorrow night, just watch.”In addition to my anger and guilt, I also felt a tiny bit of fear – that Derek would lose interest in me.I reprimanded myself. I was bad to feel that way. Shanna was right, I’d probably be back with Kevin in another couple of days.And if I kept talking to Derek, it would just confirm all of Kevin’s worst accusations.It’s better if he loses interest now, I told myself dejectedly.Bu
The answer sent thrills through my belly.It was obvious that he was flirting with me… and brazenly, at that.But I struggled to keep the upper hand. “It’s the wrong question,” I said.“Oh? What’s the right question?”“What does an individual woman want? Women aren’t all the same. They don’t want the same things.”“Well… what do you want?”Oh my God.His voice…I was melting at the sound of it.And then my roommate spoke up.“I know what Shanna wants,” Shanna slurred from her bed. “Shanna wants to get laid.”Then it hit me how much of a bitch I was being. She’d gotten this guy; she’d brought him back; and here I was, stealing him away from her. Me, with a boyfriend.Well, an ex-boyfriend… who would probably be my boyfriend again within 24 hours.Time to bail.“I should leave you two,” I said, and moved to go.Derek put out his hand. “No – stay. We’re having a very interesting conversation here.”“About the Wife of Bath,” I gently mocked him, totally not believing him.“And the Wife
Derek was still watching me hesitantly, like he was afraid I might be judging him.That was the exact same way I’d felt before, when he’d asked me what I wanted out of life. Afraid of judgment. Afraid of being made fun of.Only difference was, he’d opened up to me, totally and completely.“That was really beautiful,” I said softly.He relaxed. “Thanks,” he said, and flashed that sexy, charming grin.I think it was the grin that broke the spell.I went from seeing the magic and wonder of a child entranced by music, to seeing the incredibly good-looking guy who knew all the girls were into him.I mean, I still felt like everything he’d said to me was real… but for the first time, I considered the possibility that it had also been a performance.I gave him an impish little smile. “And you’ve never told that story to any other girl, have you.”“No. Never,” he said solemnly, though he nodded his head ‘yes’ as he said it.I laughed – at least he was honest (or semi-honest) about his bullsh
Glen stared at me like I’d just turned down a million dollars for doing nothing more than writing a book report.“What?” he asked, stunned.“No,” I croaked, fully aware I was throwing away the best opportunity of my career thus far. Maybe even the best opportunity of my entire career, even if it lasted four decades. “Sorry.”“You do understand what I’m offering you, right?”“To write an article on Derek Kane.”“And the band,” Glen stressed, as though that might be the piece of information I had overlooked.“Yeah. No thank you.”“Not just a half-page fluff piece – I’m talking a full-on, six-page spread. I mean, if you turn in a good enough story, we’re potentially talking the cover.”“Yeah. Thank you, but no.”The longer he stared at me, the more his disbelief turned to anger. “You do realize that is a one in a million offer, right? You don’t just get handed the cover of Rolling Stone – not when you’re some unknown writer a year out of college. I mean, you realize that, right?”“Yes, a
Shanna was cold as ice to me the next morning – and it wasn’t just her hangover. She gave me the glare of death the entire time I was getting ready, though she didn’t say anything.Finally I turned around and blurted out, “I didn’t sleep with him.”“What a coincidence,” she sneered. “Neither did I.”I hustled out of there as fast as possible and went to my English class.I know Shanna was pissed, and she had every right to be – but it’s not like I’d wangled a hot new boyfriend out of the deal.In fact, I was absolutely sure I would never see him again. Not like ‘see’ as in ‘go out on a date with,’ either.‘See’ as in ‘run into around town.’I had resigned myself to that fact for many reasons.He was an incredibly good-looking guy (incredibly good-looking), in a band, cool, charismatic, funny, surprisingly smart – and he was used to picking up women and sleeping with them the same night. He’d had a brief interruption the previous night, that was all. For whatever reason, he had aband
I threw him out of the room and hurriedly switched into a pair of jeans, a nice blouse, and a pair of suede boots, and then walked with him down to the student center.It was a gorgeous spring day – warm but not hot, and blissfully free of humidity. The dogwoods were in bloom, and everything else was green and bursting with life. People were out biking, jogging, lounging on the grass, basically doing anything to soak up the great weather. The entire way to the student center I walked beside him, talking and laughing, but I couldn’t stop from watching the way he moved. Even though he was a rocker wannabe, he moved like an athlete – long, powerful strides, confident, relaxed. I also saw his ass in motion for the first time.Daaaaaaaaamn.Let’s just say his jeans were packed in all the right ways, and were tight in exactly the right places.Added to that, I caught his scent for the first time. Well, the first pleasant scent. Not the dank beer and cigarette smell when he and Shanna came
I was about two hundred feet down the sidewalk when he caught up with me.“Wait! Wait – I’m sorry!” he said. He turned around and walked backwards so he could face me as he talked. “Was it something I said?” he grinned.I shot him a death glare.He put up his hands to ward it off. “Okay, yes, obviously it was what I said – ”“Women are not just sexual playthings for your amusement.”“I know that,” he said, a little taken aback.“Not from the way you act.”“Look, I’m just a sexual person – ”“Who’s only interested in fucking me?”“Whoa! Whoa, hold on there, potty mouth!” he laughed.“Oh – I’m a potty mouth, Mr. ‘Every other word out of my mouth is fuckin’ this and fuckin’ that’? Why am I a potty mouth, because I’m a girl?”“Hey – hey,” he said, his voice suddenly soothing. He moved beside me and touched my arm, but I shook him off roughly.“Please, will you just listen to me?” he asked, his voice low.“Go ahead and talk, it’s a free country,” I snarled.“Look… I think you’re absolute