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“You’re seeing her?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Have you been physical?” he asks me.
I tell him the truth, but in my head? Fuck yeah. Imagining getting her under me has been a good distraction.
That second day of class, she was dressed in a tight shirt and a short little skirt.
The shirt wasn’t see-through like I was fantasizing about, but with the blue plaid skirt, she was working that schoolgirl look. She did a damn fine job of it too.
All during class, all I did was think about everything I could do to her. How I could bend this shy girl over the desk so easily.
Every time she readjusted in her seat, I imagined being behind her, lifting her ass up and positioning her just how I wanted. I could hear how the desk would scrape across the floor as I pounded into her.
It only took a few minutes before I was rock hard and eager to see just what I’d have to do to get under that skirt.
The second class was over, Little Miss Brunette, my personal tease, was gone before I even shoved my notebook into my bag.
“Why do you think you’re drawn to her?” he asks me, pulling me from the explicit thoughts running through my head.
“She’s got a mouth on her,” I reply and think I should elaborate on how it’s what she says, more than her body, that gets me going. Hell, either way you look at it is accurate.
“So, you’re going to pursue her?” he asks me, picking up the notebook again to jot something down.
If by pursue her, he means fuck her until my cock is spent, then yes, that’s what I’m planning.
I don’t tell him that though, I just nod my head once when he looks up.
“So, you have your workout sessions, your rugby team, you have a love interest,” he lists then pauses as I snort, but I clear my throat and gesture for him to continue.
“Have you thought about changing your major?” he asks me then adds, “It’s just something to keep in mind. I know it’s still early, but undecided is not exactly what you want from this experience, is it?”
“No, I definitely want to figure shit out,” I say and toss the fidget block back on the table. “I feel wound tight, like I just need something.”
“What do you need?” he asks me.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I want to know, though.” I nod my head, swallowing back the disappointment, the fear that I’ll never know what I need to get over this anger. Or worse, that it’s just too late.
I have a good idea why I’m like this. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But I don’t know how to change and even worse, I don’t know what I’ll be like when I do change. And that scares the shit out of me.
According to the good doctor, college is where you go to find out who you are. So far, I’ve learned I’m a man who has a vivid imagination when a sexy piece of ass wears a short plaid skirt to class. There’s a shocker.
ALLISON
“Your flowers are dying,” I say out loud although there’s no one else here. My fingertips brush against the soft petals on a single bloom that’s still alive. “This one will be dead soon too,” I say and pause, letting my hand fall. “This window will be good for you, though,” I add as I water the first plant and then the next in the large bay window. It faces east and there’s plenty of sun.
This was my grandmother’s therapy. Plants need to be talked to, she used to tell me. I thought she was crazy, but I did it anyway.
And when she gave me a violet of my own, I took her advice. Shame the thing’s dying. Maybe I should talk more.
My throat feels dry and itchy when I stand back, no longer busying myself.
“Miss you,” I whisper. “You wouldn’t be so proud of me if you were here, though,” I say. I spent most of my first year out of high school with my grandmother. She needed someone and I did too. She’d have liked this house, I think. I’m happy I was able to rent it. The price is good, but the location is everything. It’s exactly where I need it to be.
For the longest time, Grandmom was the only one I talked to. I’d work at the bakery, take care of Grandmom and then go home to sleep. It kept me busy and somehow my grandmother rubbed off on me. Over time, it became easier to refuse to let anyone in.
Maybe it’s because she’s a hard woman too. Or was. She knew how hard it is to give even a little piece to anyone. Opening up a little inevitably means breaking down.
