A Glimpse of the Dream (8 page)

New student orientation was surprisingly fun. My roommate, Eleanor, was as sweet in person as she had been over the phone. She was also very shy, so it took a bit to get her to talk in the beginning. But after the first few hours together, she warmed up to me—even going so far as to initiate conversation. Our first weekend was packed with activities, learning the campus, getting introduced to the school’s organizations, learning how to use our meal cards, and meeting our advisors. It was during lunch that first day that I met Simon Dale.

The dining hall made the most amazing chocolate chip cookies. I wasn’t the only one to think so, since the platter emptied quickly. There was only one cookie left, and just as I stepped up to it, a large hand reached over me and grabbed it.

“Hey,” I said, turning to see a boy standing there holding my cookie. He grinned. He actually grinned at me. He had a Mediterranean look: golden-brown skin, hair on the long side and so dark a brown it looked almost black, which matched his eye color perfectly. Standing several inches over six feet, he was all muscle. He was undeniably hot, and yet there wasn’t even a spark of interest in me, only irritation.

“That’s mine,” I whined.

“I got it first.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, they’re that good, but I’m willing to share.” Aside from Kane, I didn’t have a lot of experience with guys, so I was surprised at how comfortable I felt talking to
this
guy. Comfortable enough to even tease him despite his imposing stature.

“How magnanimous of you.”

He broke the cookie in half, but before he handed it to me, he said, “I’m Simon Dale.”

“Teagan Harper.”

“You from Boston?” he asked.

“Maine. What about you?”

“Beacon Hill. I’m pretty sure one of the standard questions we’re suppose to ask is, what’s your major?”

I couldn’t count how many people had asked me that. “Undecided. You?”

“Art history.”

“Really? That actually sounds kind of cool. Are you interested in working in a museum?”

“I’m not sure, but I love art in all forms and the history behind it.”

“It must be nice to have a general idea of what you want to do. I’m so not there yet.” An odd look swept his expression, so I asked, “What’s that look for?”

He kind of snorted in reply. “It’d be even nicer if my parents would get on board with it.”

“So their aspirations for you don’t include the study of art?”

“Far from it. They want me to major in political science for my future career in politics, but I have no interest.”

“Do you think they’ll eventually come around?”

“Yeah, eventually. But I could do without all the drama now.”

It had been years since the thought of my parents had brought me pain, but I couldn’t deny being at Boston U had pulled those feelings close to the surface. If I had the chance to see them again, I’d welcome conflict, even an argument, over my choice of major.

Not knowing where my thoughts were, Simon asked, “What about you? Are your parents pushing a major on you?”

The pain was no longer under the surface, but right there and clearly very easy to see—Simon’s smile faded. “Did I say something wrong?”

“My parents died when I was nine.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was so long ago. I’m feeling a little more tender than normal because they both attended this school.” Just as I’d hoped, walking in their footsteps really did make me feel connected to them, but it was heartbreaking too. I wasn’t living in one of the dorms they’d once called home, but I passed by them. In my head, I could see my parents walking up the steps, loaded down with books, so young and eager. The reality that they were both gone only fourteen years after they graduated broke my heart every time I allowed myself to think about it.

“Carrying on the tradition, that’s cool.”

I hadn’t really thought of it as carrying on the tradition, but I guess I kind of was—and he was right, it was cool. And then Simon reached for my hand and squeezed it very gently. He said nothing, but I could tell he knew where my thoughts were and was offering silent comfort. The gesture was one that Kane would have done, and in that moment I missed him terribly.

“Did you leave a boyfriend behind? Because that looks like an engagement ring,” he said as his focus shifted to my finger.

I missed Kane, but thinking about him always warmed me, and this time I felt it on my cheeks. “I did. He’s moving here in a few months after he ties up some things he’s working on.”

“How long have you been engaged?”

“He proposed on the way to the airport, so only a day, but I’ve known him since I was nine.”

“Since you were nine? I’m guessing you’ve got a good story to tell.”

He wasn’t wrong; the story of Kane and me, though unfinished, was pretty freaking great. “I do.”

“I love a good story. Let’s get some coffee and you can tell me all about this guy so I can live vicariously through you.”

It was the way he emphasized
this guy
that clued me in that Simon was gay. Though, in fairness, I’d already suspected it.

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Kane, but surely you aren’t serious about hearing our story. It’d bore you.”

“Is it love?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I won’t get bored. Besides, isn’t that what today is all about? Making friends. I don’t know about you, but I think it’ll be more fun experiencing all this with a friend.”

Teasing him again, I asked, “You want to be my friend?”

“We both share a love for the chocolate chip cookie. Friendships have been built on far less.”

Simon was a bit goofy, and yet he reminded me a lot of Kane. “I agree.”

He reached for my elbow and started guiding me to the counter for our coffee. “Excellent. Coffee first and then the story. I want to hear all about this Kane.”

After orientation, Simon and I began to hang out regularly. It started with meals in the dining hall, but it didn’t take long before we found ourselves in each other’s room: studying, watching television, or just talking. We even hit a few parties, though neither of us were really that into it.

A couple of weeks after orientation, Simon appeared at my door, but it wasn’t for our standard meal breaks. His normally sunny personality was replaced with a look of dejection.

“Simon, what’s wrong?”

“I told my parents I was gay. They didn’t take it well.”

Reaching for his hand, I drew him into my room, where we settled on my bed. Eleanor was at a study session, so we had privacy. “I thought they already knew.”

“So did I. I mean, I never confirmed it, but I thought it was pretty clear.”

“So what happened?”

“My mom was mentioning a girl I grew up with, they often do that, and I’d had enough with what I thought were their passive-aggressive feelings toward my sexual preference. But apparently they didn’t have a clue. My mom cried and my dad . . . he couldn’t even speak.”

“And I’m guessing you weren’t expecting that response from them.”

“No. They’ve always been very supportive, if demanding, but I never thought they’d have an objection to me being gay. They love me, so it shouldn’t matter. Should it?”

“Of course it shouldn’t matter.”

“What if they can’t get over it?”

“There’s nothing to get over. Being gay is who you are and your parents love you. They’ll eventually come around.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me too.”

Four weeks. Three full weekends. That’s how long it’d been since I’d left Raven’s Peak, since I’d left Kane. Eleanor, being a Bostonian, went home every weekend. I missed Kane something fierce, despite having to work so hard for my classes. We talked every night, and I told him he should come down for a weekend, because we’d have the room all to ourselves. Blue Hill was far, so I didn’t think he’d be able to visit, but how I wished he would.

Friday night and the whole weekend stretched ahead of me, most of it to be spent studying. Simon had gone home to some family function, so I wouldn’t even see him for our normal meal breaks. His parents had apologized, but things were still a bit awkward. It was partly why Simon went home, an attempt to show his parents that he was still Simon regardless of his sexual orientation.

Sitting on my bed, dressed in one of Kane’s tees, I pulled my knees up and rested my cheek on them. I didn’t know how I would manage being away from Kane for five more months. At least it was only five months and not the full four years. I’d never make four years. It wasn’t even because I missed the sex and the kissing—which I did—I just missed
him
.

Thinking about him prompted me to call, but disappointment filled me when his phone went to voice mail. I had a test on Tuesday, so I might as well start studying. I grabbed my backpack and unloaded my books on my bed and got lost in work.

A knock at my door pulled me from my reading—the clock read almost ten p.m. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been at it, but I’d gotten a lot done. Dropping my book on my bed, I walked to the door and pulled it open. It took me a beat or two to react, since I wasn’t sure that what I was seeing was real. Kane stood there with a bag over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

“Hey, Tea. Surprise!”

I threw myself into his arms. His bag dropped to the floor, his arms wrapped around me, and he held me so close. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered into my hair.

“I’ve missed you more.”

“Maybe we should do this inside,” he said, then added, “because I want to make love to you and I don’t think you want your dorm mates to see what a fine specimen of a man you’ve got yourself.”

I stepped back. “You’re a clown. How did you get in?”

“Charmed one of the girls as she was leaving.” With a wicked look, he reached for his bag and followed me into my room. The door had only just closed when I heard the lock, and then his mouth was covering mine. Our lips molded, my tongue pushing between his lips, and his hands roamed over my back and down to my ass while we moved toward my bed.

Pressing hot kisses down my neck and shoulder, his fingers gripped my shirt and lifted it over my head. “I like that you’re wearing my shirt.”

“I sleep in it,” I managed before his tongue was in my mouth, his hands on my breasts, the ache between my legs accompanied by a wetness.

At my bed, Kane stepped back, eyeing me from head to toe, as I stood there in only a pair of pink panties.

“God, I’ve missed you. You’re going to want to clear your bed off because in another minute, I’m knocking everything on the floor.”

Bed? So lost in him, I’d completely forgotten that all of my homework was spread out on my bed. With one sweep, I knocked everything to the floor before jumping into the middle of the bed, lying down on my back and resting on my elbows with my knees up and legs slightly spread.

His laugh rang around the room.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Kane.”

“Noted.” He watched me as he stepped out of his jeans and yanked his shirt forward over his head. Naked and aroused, he was beautiful.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between my legs, his mouth meeting mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, his weight pushed us deeper into the mattress. “Kane, the condom.”

He pulled his mouth from mine, chuckling as he looked down at me. “Impatient?”

“It’s been too long.”

His gaze sizzled. “Agreed.” He climbed from the bed, grabbed his jeans, and pulled out several condoms from his front pocket.

“Optimistic.”

“Determined is a better word,” he said as he joined me on the bed and handed me the condom. I loved slipping the condom onto him, loved feeling how hard he was and knowing it was because of me. Gently pushing me flat against the mattress, he settled himself right where we both needed him.

“Next time, we’ll go more slowly,” he promised, and then he was filling me, my hips lifting, my back arching, and everything in me sighing at being connected to him again.

“Missed this,” he whispered.

“Me too. Now move.”

But I didn’t need to say that, he already was. Oh, did I miss this.