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She chuckled. “Truth hurts.”
The night was surprisingly cool for early September in Texas. I looked over at her, memorizing the perfect outline of her face, the way her silky hair cascaded down her shoulders and swirled around her as the breeze lifted it. She smiled at me and the unmistakable jolt shot through me, the effect the same. This time, I didn’t fight it.
“It’s not like that anymore,” I said in an attempt to reassure her. I grabbed a stray hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She sobered up a bit, her smile slowly fading.
“Not what I heard,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest, averting her eyes. She wasn’t being confrontational, and I knew that. “They don’t call you the Spanish slut this time,” she said with no humor in their voice.
“Oh yeah, what do they call me?” I said, nudging her, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Dean,” she said looking straight into my eyes. Fuck if I didn’t want to kiss her right at the most inappropriate moment. I didn’t want to aid in what she already probably thought of me. I had wanted to kiss her so many times in the past few weeks but had held back for this very reason.
“You do them a disservice, you know,” she said thoughtfully as she played with the blades of grass, not looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, plucking a piece of grass between my fingers.
“Letting them think that’s all you are good for. They never get to know you. It’s sad.”
I laughed. “They objectify me?”
She looked at me seriously. “Yes, they do.” That wiped the smile off my face.
“Dallas, I told you a long time ago, I don’t care about that shit, never will.”
“No, I guess not,” she said, perking up with a smile I knew wasn’t genuine. “I mean you are the big man on campus again. And what the hell is up with that frat chair in there, anyway?”
“It’s my throne,” I said defensively.
She rolled her eyes. It grew darker as the lamp lights came on around us, our faces covered in shadows. We enjoyed a few minutes of silence before she spoke up.
“Tell me about Columbia,” she prodded. “You are so close,” she encouraged.
“I can’t wait,” I said honestly. “My parents took me to New York when I was ten. I just remember being excited the entire time. I loved the semi-organized chaos. The noise, the culture clash, it was palpable, you know. Even then at that age, I could feel it, and it was everywhere. At least that’s the way I remembered it. I made my decision then, I wanted to be there and Columbia was a big heap of icing on the cake. My father and I spent hours going over my game plan. He always loved the idea of Columbia, especially when I told him I wanted to be a doctor. All these years later, I haven’t changed my mind. I’ve been back a few times since to check out the campus, look at housing, I still love it. Have you been?”
I hadn’t realized she was watching me closely, a small smile on her lips. “No, my parents and I vacationed a lot, but mostly to Colorado and then California to see my aunt and uncle. We never really made it out east.”
“It’s incredible and nothing like it is here. It makes our corner of the world seem so small. There is so much potential bursting out of it. I think you’d love it.”
“Maybe…probably,” she said, lost in thought.
“Then again, you are a true Texan. So damn proud to be from this fucking state with no plans of ever leaving,” I teased. “Even your name suits you.”
Before she could
attack me for that, I lifted her to her feet. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“Are you going to do this every night?” she asked as she leaned in close and I played with the tips of her long hair as I trailed my fingers down her back, pulling her closer to me. “Maybe, if you want me to.”
“Hmmm, kind of a boyfriend type thing to do, isn’t it?” I avoided her question, leading with mine.
“Coming to my toga party tomorrow night?”
“Maybe,” she said, glancing my way with a smile.
“You should, Dallas.”
“Why is that?”
“’Cause I will be there,” I said, slowing to a stop at her dorm.
