Sophomoric (9 page)

He relaxed. “Okay. Call me later?”

I kissed him before detaching myself. The smile slipped off my face as soon as I turned my back.

My sigh of relief was audible as I put down my pencil and turned off my calculator. Stress is highly contagious, and by my last exam (precalculus) on Friday afternoon, I was so over midterms it was not even funny.

People either seemed to spend the week of midterms locked in their rooms or completely relaxed about the barrage of important grades that were always presented around now. Nicky, Amie and Scott fell into the first group. Dev, Cleo and Alec were firmly planted in the second. I floated somewhere in between. Sure, I had planned to study for midterms, put in an hour or two on my math and some time on history. I just ultimately got distracted. I went into my midterms just as unprepared and sleep-deprived as I always did.

Cleo was sprawled across her bed as I walked in, giving everyone passing a clear view through the open door of the bright red boy shorts under her kilt. “I hate tests,” she moaned, not opening her eyes. “That Euro test is such a bitch.”

I didn’t think it was that hard. Mostly essays.

“God, I know!” I flopped on the foot of her bed, my head tilted at an awkward angle by the wall, my knees bent over the edge. “We should celebrate surviving this week, or something.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Uh-oh. Nothing good ever happened when Cleo’s voice had that particular mischievous lift to it. At least, not according to the State of Ohio.

“Tomorrow night?”

I debated for about half a second, before completely ignoring any trickle of common sense. “Sure.”

Dev and I spent Saturday sleeping on the Green. The original plan was to watch a movie, but it didn’t last long. He fell asleep first, his arm around my waist, his chin resting against the top of my head.

I didn’t want to fall asleep. God only knew what humiliating thing I’d do while unconscious. Dev was, true to form, some impossible blend of adorable and really hot. My head rose and fell with his chest, my body shifted as he moved slightly in his sleep. It was a warm day, unusual this late in the season, and the sunlight was a warm weight on my skin. The light blanketed my face, just heavy enough that you couldn’t forget it was there. For a moment, my cheek resting on his shirt, soft from washing and wearing, my right ankle thrown over the denim of his jeans, now warm with absorbed heat, it really felt like we were dating. For a fleeting second, I was that girl, the one with lots of friends, the one who everybody wants to be, the girl who gets the guy and lives out the whole Disney fantasy. The girl I had gotten a taste of being, doing whatever Dev and I were doing. I liked being that girl. For the moment, at least, I had the guy, his heart beating underneath my slightly squashed ear. I wasn’t going to let my dread get in the way of that, not with the sun and a warm body heating my skin. I was going to savor it. We lay there long enough that my unwillingness to sleep faded gently away. My eyes closed, my arm rested easily over his stomach. The smell of his cologne pervaded my mind with every slow, lazy breath as they gradually evened out.

“Hey, you.” Lips brushed lightly across the top of my head and Dev’s thumb traced invisible patterns on my hip where my shirt had ridden up. “It’s four.”

The knowledge that I had been asleep for two hours should have sent me bolt upright, but I didn’t really want Dev to take the weight of his arm off my waist. Instead, I just pulled my body closer. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea how long Dev had been watching me sleep. I looked up at him, wincing at the messy hair I could see out of the corner of my eye. Damn it. My hand rose to smooth the strands, but he beat me to it, gently playing with my hair, smoothing it behind my ear. The smile that spread across my face was completely involuntary. His blue eyes were soft, even though it’s a ridiculous idea that eyes are soft. The mischievous quirk of his lips, the self-assured certainty that was usually written in every line of his body, had relaxed, leaving behind only a small, contented smile and heavy, sleepy eyes.

Cosmo
, Lifetime and, more importantly, Cleo all warned unanimously against any kind of warm and fluffy feelings toward your sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend. Heartbreak guaranteed if you did. At least I had tried to follow their advice.

Resting my weight against his chest, I pushed myself up and kissed him lightly. “Sorry I slept so long.”

He laughed, his chest moving under my body. “I just woke up.” His hand moved to my cheek, and he pulled me back down for another kiss.

As I pulled away for the second time, I sighed. I really didn’t want to leave… “I promised everyone we’d get ready together.” Amie and Nicky were coming over to Cleo’s room for pizza and caffeine.

“Mmm, don’t go.” When I whined, I looked like an obnoxious little kid. Dev’s whining made me want to curl into his body and never leave. Not fair.

“I have to.” I compromised with myself and kissed him. “But we’re meeting up at six-thirty, right?”

“Mhmm.”

I so totally did not want to move, but slowly, I shifted my weight away from him. It would have worked beautifully except that he grabbed my waist and moved with me until his body was over mine, half off the blanket.

“Now you have to stay.” Cheesy. Self-satisfied. And I loved it. I could almost taste the words, his lips were so close. Even though it’s a ridiculous idea that you could taste words.

He kissed me mid-eyeroll.

I made it back to the dorm by four-thirty. Ish. As I made my way to the showers, flip-flops flapping against the floor, my mind was going in a million different directions. Unfortunately, they all had one stupid boy as the center of their orbit. Damn it.

The Dev that slept in the grass with me on Saturday seemed very different from the Dev who gave me hickeys and surrounded himself with freshman admirers. But I liked sleepy Dev. I would even date sleepy Dev, the real, actual, Facebook status–changing kind of date. Not this nameless, ambiguous thing in which the only thing being felt was up my shirt.

It would be stupid to keep this thing going if I even thought I really, actually
liked
him liked him. Then again, I never claimed to be smart.

Letting mint-scented steam rise from my grungy shower stall, I leaned my head back in the industrial water pressure to rinse de-frizzing conditioner out of my hair. Even Peanuts’ five-cent psychiatric help would be an improvement over my psycho-over-analysis.

Cleo, Amie and Nicky were already in her room when I got there, wet hair soaking through the back of a freshman swim team sweatshirt. It felt like I was walking in on a conversation I wasn’t included in, the way silence fell conveniently as the door swung open. But I didn’t say anything. Nicky looked pale, but she smiled at me as I walked in. Cleo threw a can of diet soda at me, which I barely caught and was terrified to open. Amie waved and took a bite of pizza. Clothes were traded for critiques, and straightening help for mirror space. Never put four girls in a room with only one full-length mirror and expect them to get ready in time. Not happening.

A piece of pizza, two cans of soda and over an hour of straightening, makeup and “does this look OK?” later, the four of us were still crowded in front of the mirror. I couldn’t help glancing over at Nicky. There was still no color in her cheeks and she hadn’t touched the pizza. Feeling a little awkward, I walked over to where she was doing her makeup in a small mirror. “You okay?” I asked. I held up the mirror so she didn’t have to bend over.

Her smile looked tired. I’ve faked enough smiles to know what it looks like. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure?”

“Don’t worry about me.” One shoulder rose and fell. “It’ll work out.” I took the hint and dropped it. Perfect timing; Cleo had just turned back toward us, holding two Nesquik bottles she had pulled from underneath her bed and wearing a smile that made me feel like someone was trying to wring the nerves out of my stomach. Excitement and nerves do not mix well with pizza and Mountain Dew.

“Bizza, take one of these?” She held out a bottle. My hand wrapped around the yellow plastic, with a strong suspicion that it contained something with which the large cartoon rabbit would never associate himself.

Now or never. I unscrewed the top and inhaled. There was no mistaking that biting, thick smell, barely masked by the orange juice it was mixed with. A few times, the summer before freshman year, my then-best friend and I had raided my parents’ freezer and filled half a water bottle with vodka. A sip had made her hack and hand me the bottle. I’d surprised myself by taking two swallows without much of a problem.

Unfortunately, an easy time going down had not meant a high tolerance level. I slept very well that night. Somehow my dad didn’t miss the absent vodka that would have sent my mother into hysterics and a search for the nearest rehab center. She always overreacted.

This time, the small sip I took almost tasted good. I still fought the urge to plug my nose, like I had when I was three, because the thick sharp bite of the alcohol made it that much harder to swallow past the nerves in my throat. Something told me that wasn’t exactly the way to seem like I fit in here, and Cleo’s reminder that I was a “virgin much” wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to end this week.

But a few sips were all I was willing to risk. Getting wasted in the middle of campus seemed like a really bad idea. At least I had some company: Nicky didn’t have any. Cleo and Amie split the other bottle between them, and then finished half of mine. Then again, they had done this before. Apparently, David had a fake ID.

“Come on.” Cleo’s laugh was a little too loud. “Let’s go meet the guys.” Wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt that was mostly unbuttoned, she grabbed a pack of gum off her desk and shoved it in her back pocket. Be prepared. She still had the bottle I had started drinking from in one hand.

Nicky and I hung back on the way down the stairs. She was drinking water.

The first person Dev greeted was Cleo. My eyes moved to Nicky and Scott, arms around each other, and then down to the gray cement of the gutter when Dev’s lips moved to her ear to murmur something.

Doesn’t mean anything. Or does it? Doubts aside, I leaned back against him when his arms wrapped around my waist, teetering a little on too-high heels. Lips pressed against the bare skin on my shoulder, moving up my neck to my ear.

“Ready to celebrate?” In that voice, low and just a little rough, vibrating against my back, there was no telling what that meant. The bottom of my stomach flipped and twisted and burned and I realized that there was a small part of me to which anything he was doing with Cleo didn’t matter. I was still more than willing to be pulled into the nearest dark corner.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was supposed to be no strings and I was well on the way to my very own pair of steel cables.

Our kiss had a minty freshness to it that made my mouth burn. The sweet undertones of alcohol still clung to his breath. He was like a freaking bug-eating plant. Everything about him pulled me in, even if it wouldn’t end well for me.

“Come on!” Amie was practically bouncing. I couldn’t decide whether it was alcohol, adrenaline or because she’d drunk more caffeine than I had. Whatever it was, I could sympathize. I couldn’t stand still, and my hand was tracing patterns on Dev’s back in an effort to keep my feet from moving. We all followed her along the sidewalks, well lit for wandering students and stalking security cars. Lucky for us, there were places even they couldn’t follow. Even I had learned a few by now.

Nicky and Scott were having a whispered argument as we walked. I wondered if it was because he had chugged what was left in the Nesquik bottle on the front step of our dorm. Whatever the cause, she walked away from the group after a few minutes. Surprising: they rarely went in different directions. I felt bad for only caring a little. But they would work it out. They were Nicky and Scott, and there was a reason why no one had a reaction I could see. They always worked it out.

The back of the math-sci building wasn’t technically off limits after dark. We still probably weren’t supposed to be back there, but what the hell. We would already be in enough trouble if security followed us.

The night became a blur of giggles and laughing harder than I should and Dev’s lips burning on my neck. I don’t really remember who suggested Truth or Dare, which I hadn’t played since its middle school incarnation. The difference was definitely noticeable. Middle school involved lots of giggling, lots of whispering and awkward pecks on the cheek. This version somehow ended up with Cleo and Amie making out in the middle of our little circle as the boys watched in mystified awe.

In hindsight, I should have had more vodka.

Dev was smiling as the two girls pulled apart, that smile that screamed that he knew he could strip literally and figuratively and everyone would like what they saw. Consequently, they usually did. Alcohol seemed to completely remove any censors he had, although that wasn’t really saying much. Scott had changed the most. I was used to him as the serious, quiet half of the perfect couple. Sober, he never would have watched Amie and Cleo. Sober, he probably would have followed Nicky. I kind of wished Scott was sober.

“Truth or Dare, Biz?”

Why was
I
still sober? “Dare.” Thank God they didn’t know how sober I was.

“Take Dev over there.” Scott pointed around the corner. “Ten minutes. He can do anything he wants.”

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad.

Who the hell was I kidding?

The part of me that no matter what just wanted Dev in a dark corner was thrilled. The rest of me, which mentally flagged things like potential consequences, was not as enthused. Oh well. It, too, could be shoved in a dark corner. He pulled me to my feet a little too forcefully, and I stumbled into him, giggling. “This was totally your idea.”

If I had thought he was cocky before, it was nothing compared to the look on his face now as his arms pulled my hips against the denim of his jeans. “I may have asked for a favor.”