One & Only (Canton) (3 page)

“Most embarrassing experience of my life.”

“Well,” I prodded, “did she get you one?”

“Yeah.” He smiled mysteriously. “She was way hot.”

I spent the rest of the evening alternately glaring through my microscope and wondering exactly how hot the prom date—and the prom night—had been.

But if our research remained platonic, I was certain other project pairs didn’t fare quite so well. Cristina, who was always up on the campus gossip, filled me in. She had a boyfriend back home in Brooklyn, so she was living vicariously through all the hormones running amok across campus. Hook-ups, cheating, broken hearts, people who’d been caught with their pants down—literally—despite the campus’s rather firm open-door policy.

“And what about you and Dylan?” she asked, sculpted eyebrows waggling. “Are you
doing
it?”

“No!”

She smirked. “Are you
not
doing it?”

“We’re project partners,” I insisted. “That’s all.”

And that
was
all, even if his words made my heart beat faster, the accidental brush of our skin set my nerve endings on fire, and I spent hours every night after our work ended turning over in my head every look and smile and conversation. One night, he leaned over my shoulder to point at some numbers on my computer screen, and I felt the weight of his chest against my back, his breath in my ear. Another night, he caught a strand of my dark hair with the tip of his pinky and swiped it off my face. Yet a third night, I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me every time I looked away. Day after day, night after night, study session after study session, we exchanged emails, we talked about our project, we read and worked and researched together, and there were times that I wanted him so much, I worried if he so much as touched my hand, I’d split right open and spill my soul all over the floor.

I might have denied it to Cristina, but there was no point in pretending to myself. And as long as it was
only
to myself, I figured there was little harm. I’d told the truth to Dylan after our first class: I was here to work and to do well. He respected that, and with his help, I was doing exactly what I’d intended. Anything else was my own personal problem to deal with. And I wasn’t like my parents, who did what they wanted with no regard for the effect it may have on their lives or the lives of others. I had the project, my position at the camp, Dylan’s own undeniable scientific fervor…and honestly, it was enough.

It was amazing.

In high school, it had been hard to find anyone as interested in research as I was. I’d never been bullied or ridiculed for the amount of time I spent in the bio lab or my commitment to the science fair and other competitions, but I hadn’t exactly had friends who shared my interests, either. Sylvia, my closest friend in school, never even took science past the minimum requirements, and though she’d always politely asked how my projects were going, her eyes would glaze over after the second mention of cellular structure.

Not so with Dylan or the other people I met at Cornell. Dylan and I could debate for literally hours over various methodologies or ramifications or avenues of research. Behind the rims of his glasses, his eyes were blue flames, lit up with intensity as he argued about the dangers of frakking or listed case histories of water contamination or declared that he didn’t care if it took us an extra two hours every night, we just had to include some linear regression graphs in our final presentation.

And then he would back off, and his cheeks would darken, and he would apologize like I used to with my high school friends. But he never needed to, because I was right there with him, late night after late night, pleading with the lab managers for just fifteen more minutes, wrestling with graphics programs I’d never heard of and which were certainly way more complicated than the simple Excel spreadsheets I’d used on all my high school projects.

One night, after hours spent crunching numbers and hunching over petri dishes, I collapsed in one of the lab chairs with a moan and grabbed my shoulders, kneading my aching muscles in vain.

“You can’t massage your own shoulders,” Dylan’s voice floated over. “It’s an anatomical impossibility.”

“Better than nothing.” But he was right. In order to rub, I had to contract the very muscles I was trying to relax. I gave up, rolled my neck, and yawned.

Seconds later, I felt his fingers brush my hair to the side. His thumbs caressed the base of my neck and his hands curved over the tops of my clavicles. “Let me,” he said softly as my skin started tingling and warming beneath his touch.

I caught my breath. I couldn’t.
I couldn’t.
His thumbs pushed against the knot of muscles in my back and I bit my lip to keep from groaning.

“Does that feel good?”

I turned around in the seat and faced him, kneeling on the chair. His hands dropped to his sides in surprise. “Yes,” I said, staring at him staring at me, inches away. His glasses were off. There were tiny red marks on the bridge of his nose. He looked older with them off, more refined, cuter than ever. He didn’t step back, he didn’t look away, he didn’t say a thing.

And I knew. If I reached for him, he’d let me. If I kissed him, he’d drag me off the chair and into his arms. He wanted me to. He wanted me, too. My heart pounded blood so hard through my body that I was surprised the windows of the room weren’t rattling. Dylan had no interest at all in stopping what was about to happen.

So I did it. “I have to go,” I said and grabbed my bag. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t dare turn in his direction before I ran from the lab.

***

The next day, we both acted like nothing had happened. Fortunately, it was our final day of work. We put the last touches on our presentation and turned it in to Professor White for her review.

The morning after, she asked us both to stay after class.

“I took a look at your project last night,” she said when everyone else had gone, “and I have to say that I’m very impressed. There’s a level of meticulous detail here that is uncommon for early undergrads, even in a program of this caliber. If it’s all right, I’d like to share your work with some of the other faculty members here.”

“We’re scientists,” said Dylan. “We always want our work shared.”

“Miss McMann,” the professor said, turning toward me, “I took a look in your file last night. I understand you’re interested in bioengineering?”

I nodded. “They have a really limited program at my college, but I’m going to do my best to get in—”

“I doubt you’ll have much trouble,” Professor White said. “In fact, I know a professor there you should meet. If you like, I’d be happy to contact Dr. Stewart and put you two in touch.”

I brightened. Maybe things wouldn’t be so gloomy at State after all. “Thank you!”

“I think he only teaches upper-level classes, but I’ll let him know that if he’s in the market for a research assistant, he couldn’t do better than you.”

I was speechless. I probably managed to stumble out a thank-you. And here I was thinking I’d be making ends meet by slinging coffee.

It wasn’t until we were dismissed that I noticed she’d made no explicit promises to Dylan. Perhaps, though, she figured he wouldn’t need any extra help at a school like Canton, whereas I was going to have to scramble to make sure I could take all the classes I needed for my major in the overpopulated crush of State.

Dylan was beaming as we waited for the elevator together. “Well played, algae girl. Who knew you might get a job out of this?” The doors dinged open and we stepped inside.

I still felt a little breathless. I turned to Dylan, who was pressing the button for the lobby, and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you,” I whispered, hugging him tight. Yes, the project was mine, but I hadn’t done it alone. It was Dylan’s idea, Dylan who’d helped push everything to the next level.

His arms slid around my waist as he returned the hug. “Tess…”

To this day, I don’t know who started it, who moved first. But suddenly, his mouth was on mine and my hands were weaving into his hair and he’d grabbed the back of my shirt in his fists and crushed me against him. By the time the elevator door dinged open, we were both breathing hard. We flew apart, staring at each other. Forever.
Forever
.

“Are you going to run away again?” he said at last, with a kind of anguish in his voice I’d never heard before.

“No,” I replied and came at him again. “No.”

We kissed until the doors shut on us and the elevator started lifting, and then we stopped and retreated, faces flushed, hair mussed. On some upper floor, the doors parted again, and some students got in. No one I knew, thankfully, though I might not have recognized my own mother in that instant.

On the ground floor, we left with everyone else and walked back to the dorms, first side by side, then hand in hand, then running until we reached his room.

“I wasn’t sure…,” he managed to get out as we wrapped ourselves around each other and fell back on his narrow dorm room bed. “You said you were here to work…”

“Shhh,” I admonished. “Project’s done. Didn’t you hear Professor White?”

The sound Dylan made then was half laugh, half groan, and it did strange things to my insides. His body was heavy against mine, and for a long time, all we did was kiss, our limbs tangled, softly moving against each other, until that friction wasn’t enough.

“Tess,” he breathed into my ear. “I…” He held his breath for a moment, his forehead pressed hard against mine as if he was trying to read my thoughts. “What do you want?”

I looked at him. His pupils were dilated, his mouth parted and swollen from my kisses. I reached up and removed his glasses, folding the frames and laying them on the table near his bed. I shifted my legs and he settled between my thighs and I saw him bite his lip, then squeeze his eyes shut as I softly bucked my hips.

“I want you,” I said, though those words sounded so ridiculous. So canned. So vague. “I want us to take our clothes off.”

His laugh this time was a painful sound. “Okay. But I feel like I should tell you that, um…” He sighed and opened his eyes. “I haven’t exactly done that before.”

So the prom hadn’t been
that
hot of a night. Or maybe Dylan just wasn’t that kind of guy. I reached up and cupped his cheek. “Neither have I. But I want to now.”

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as all that. He had to go dig out the condoms he’d brought with him “just in case” and I did my fair share of giggling and it wasn’t all soft-focus candlelit perfection like in a movie. To start with, it was lunchtime, and the sun streamed in bright and glorious from the dorm room windows, striping our skin in light and shadow from the blinds. Dylan kissed each stripe as it dappled my torso.

“You look like a tiger,” he said.

I clawed at his back. “Rowr.”

But we stopped joking around soon enough. Dylan touched me everywhere, and I returned the favor. His hands encircled my wrists and his fingers traced the line of my throat and my sternum and my hips on their way to their destination. And as they moved inside me at last, his mouth explored the undersides of my breasts until my animal sounds got a lot more realistic.

“Tess,” he rumbled against my skin. “God. Don’t do that. I’m going crazy.”

“Go crazy,” I urged him. “Please.”

But even then, he took his time, asking all the while if I was okay and kissing the tip of my nose when I promised I’d tell him if I wasn’t. I’d heard it would hurt, but it didn’t. I’d heard it would be bad—but how could it be? It was Dylan.

Afterward, we lay around, sheets haphazardly covering body parts as the sun slanted farther and farther away from the windows.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, running his finger across my jaw.

“Oh, is that why you wanted to be my project partner?” I asked wryly.

“No, I wanted to be your project partner because I thought you’d be good at it,” he said. “I flirted with you because I thought you were beautiful.” He rolled on top of me and smiled down. “But it’s really the combination of those two things that made me spend the last few weeks taking only cold showers.” There was no self-consciousness in his tone as he said this. There never had been with Dylan. He wanted what he wanted, and he was never ashamed. I’d never known anything like that. “I liked you so much, Tess, but you made it clear you only wanted to work. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

My breath caught. “If we’d done this, we wouldn’t have finished the project.” Because this was all I wanted to do. This should be all anyone wanted to do, ever.

“Your self-control is astounding.” He had no idea. But as he leaned in to kiss me, I let him. I let him do a whole lot more, too, until I came, trembling, in his arms, and he had to go get another condom.

It started getting dark outside, but neither of us were interested in dinner. So it began.

I thought of the man lying next to me. His huge, loving family waiting for him at home. His future attendance at Canton, where no doubt he’d make a splash, doing his studies and maybe even living in a building named after my father.

“When are you leaving for school?” Dylan asked, as if he could read my thoughts. “The Canton dorms open early. I can be there by the end of August. I can see you before you leave.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I pictured myself coming home on weekends so I could be sure of meeting up with Dylan. Trying to balance research opportunities with my need to see a boyfriend who lived three hours away. I imagined all the things I’d end up being, all the things I wouldn’t be able to be, if I tied myself to a man in Canton.

Just like my mother had.

“Why? Are your folks really strict? Because I can be so charming. Parents love me.” He cleared his throat. “‘Mr. McMann, I’m here to take your daughter to a scientific lecture.’”

My smile faded. “My dad’s not…Mr. McMann. He doesn’t live with us.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not exactly…legitimate.”

A burst of laughter escaped his lips. “
Legitimate
? No one says that anymore, Tess.” He tilted my chin in his direction. “I think you’re totally legitimate.”