“Keeps me in shape,” she said. Oh, it certainly did.
The class ended with the professor never showing. I normally grabbed a bite to eat after this class and asked her if she wanted to join me over at the Food Court.
“Sure!” she said, sounding so deliciously delighted.
The Food Court had a McDonald’s, a Pizza Hut, and a Starbucks. The three basic food groups: fast food, pizza, and coffee. I grabbed a personal pizza and a Sprite while she got some Starbucks coffee and something to dunk with. We met up at a table secluded in one corner of the Court.
I set my backpack down and let out a sigh of relief. Damn, that thing could be heavy.
We talked some more and the topics became more personal. Where are you from? What brought you here? Why Computer Science? Do you have a scholarship? Which one? Where are you staying?
“Oh, I stay with a friend,” Tessa said. “We have an apartment on the campus outskirts. It’s just a short walk away. Really convenient.”
Afriend, huh? That was rather vague. I needed to find out the gender on this one before proceeding. “So do you and her split the cost?”
“Oh, no. She takes care of that. Her family’sreally well off. I think they’re multimillionaires, actually.”
She had an apartment paid for infull by someone else? And here I was, stuck in a noisy (and sometimes smelly) dormitory? I’ll admit it, I was jealous. If only I had a rich friend to bunk with, and if that rich friend were a hot young lady, well, Bonus.
At least her friend was female. I really hated conversations that go like this:“So, what are you doing this weekend?” “Oh, I’ll be having sex with my boyfriend. Buzz off.”
Not that I’d actually had conversations quitethat bad, but close. Very close.
Well, now or never. That’s what I told myself. Now or never.
“So . . . you doing anything this weekend?” I asked.
“Oh . . . this and that . . .” she said. Very non-committal. But she did smile at me, making eye contact with those deep blue eyes of hers. She had this mischievous glint in those eyes. Not at all innocent or angelic.
Have I mentioned that first impressions can be deceiving?
I continued on. If I was going down, it might as well be in a glorious ball of fire. “How about dinner and a movie this Saturday?”
“Hmmm . . . thanks, but no thanks. I have plans this weekend. Maybe some other time.”
There was thatdamnableline again.“Maybe some other time.” I do sodespise that line. Why can’t girls just tell it to you straight? Why do they have to hide behind these pathetic word games that string you on and leave things ambiguous?
Little did I know that Tessa, the sweet-innocent-beautiful-and-smart girl of my dreams, actuallymeant what she said. What a concept.
* * *
I met and talked with Tessa a lot after that first meeting. We’d chat up each other before class and meet up at the Food Court after we’d had our brains wracked by another bout of Calculus. It certainly helped that she was often the one asking me about the problems.
I kept up a steady chatty attitude towards her, trying to see if it was the right moment to ask again. She had saidmaybe some other time. I mean, the ladies of the world couldn’tallbe liars? Right?
Right?!?
Slowly, it seemed like my efforts were paying off. She began to open up, to let her hair down, so to speak. Even if she wasn’t going to let me into her pants, at least we were becoming good friends. I guess that’s a consolation prize of some sort. A pretty sucky one, but oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.
So, it was a complete surprise when she said: “My friend’s taking off for the weekend, so I’ve got absolutely nothing to do.”
Yeah, that’s right. Tessa almost always spent the weekends hanging or club-hopping with her friend. Her friendQuinn. What kind of a name for a girl is Quinn anyway? It sounds like a boy’s name.
When I discovered that bit, I went on-line and did a little searching, just to make sure Tessa wasn’t playing some sort of joke on me. It turns out we were both right. Quinn is both a boy name and girl name with Irish and Gaelic origins. It means “counsel.” At least, that’s what ThinkBabyNames.com has to say about it.
The Internet. It’s so much more than just free porn. Gotta love it.
“So . . .” I started cautiously. Tessa was presenting me with an invitation and I most certainly didn’t want to botch it. “Nothing to do?”
“Nope. Not a thing.”
“Well . . . how about dinner and a movie with me?”
She shook her head. “Nah, there’s nothing good out.”
I made a few suggestions, but she shot them all down.
“Those are all such guy movies. I don’t feel like sitting through two and a half hours of mindless explosions.”
“Actually, some of them have pretty good plots too,” I ventured, getting a little desperate.
“Oh, please,” Tessa said, but I could tell she was still in good humor. She was just toying with me, which was fine as long as I got the date in the end.
I decided to toss the ball back in her court. “So, if not a movie, then what?”
“Hmmm . . .” she made a good act of thinking it over. I was pretty sure she already had something picked out. “You ever been to the Green Lounge?”
“Ahh . . . no, can’t say that I have.”
“It’s a dance club. A pretty good one. Good music. Good drinks. Plus they don’t card college students. Well, nottoo often.”
Dancing. Great. Just fucking great.
“I take it you don’t have a fake ID yet?”
Yet? “Ahh . . . no. No, I haven’t gotten one . . . yet.”
“See! It’s perfect, then!”
Yeah. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
But what else could I say but: “Yeah. Sounds like fun,” while doing my best to feign interest. “Alright then.”
We set a time and she gave me directions to the club. I had twenty-seven hours to learn how to dance. Otherwise, I had twenty-seven hours (plus a few minutes) until I made an absolute fool of myself.
The things we men do for something hot, wet, and tight. I tell you, are we all insane or something?
Don’t answer that.
I spent the whole next day fretting over the whole thing, getting so nervous I had to chew a few Tums tablets to settle my stomach down. Back at the dorm, I looked through my wardrobe for something club-appropriate.
But there was a problem. I had no idea what club-appropriate meant for this particular club, and I hadn’t asked Tessa. Stupid, stupid David. Oh well, how tough could it be?
I settled on a pair of black slacks (with only one unsightly wrinkle from my luggage, but they were black and the clubshould be dark, right?) and also picked out a dark green button-down shirt. There’s no way I could possibly pull off suave and debonair, so I figured I could try to look classically well-dressed.
Plus, it was that or blue jeans and a t-shirt. Or rummaging through the laundry bag for something dressier. Oh yeah, either of those would makegreat impressions.
I showed up almost twenty minutes early. She showed up fifteen minutes late. But it was worth every minute.
Tessa wore a tight red shirt that left her midriff bare, along with a very short black shirt that hugged her hips oh-so-nicely. Her silhouette and the glimpses of pale flesh reminded me of just how fit and toned her body was. She’d applied a little more makeup than usual, accentuating her eyes and lips and making her lookdamn sexy.