Beware of Love in Technicolor (12 page)

             
              “Abby is coming up this weekend,” he told me, his eyes cast down.

             
              “Really?” I asked, trying to keep my cool. “What’s the excuse this time?”

             
              “No excuse,” he replied. He looked me in the eyes finally.

             
              “So much for the ‘No Girlfriends’ policy,” I said, looking out the window. It was snowing lightly; the flakes danced in the headlights of the bus.

             
              “I have no intention of making her my girlfriend again.”

             
              “But she’ll sleep with you.”

             
              “It was her idea to visit. I just want to be upfront with you. I don’t want you to be mad at me again.”

             
              “We have no agreements between us anymore,” I said, my mind racing.

             
              Be cool, Greer. You know him better than this by this point. You know what makes him tick.

             
              “You ok?” he asked.

             
              “Why wouldn’t I be ok?” I asked defensively. I told myself to calm down.

             
              “Honestly, I have no idea what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he said, trying to lighten the dark mood that had settled over what was supposed to be a simple shopping trip.

             
              “No really, why wouldn’t I be ok?” I asked, smiling now, and looking him directly in his blue eyes.

             
              He stammered, searching for something to say.

             
              “I just thought you might be upset,” he said finally.

             
              “Because...?” I started, waiting for him to finish my sentence.

             
              “Damnit Greer, what do you want me to say? I’m trying to do the nice thing here; I’m trying to spare your feelings.”

             
              “Give me a break,” I laughed. “This has nothing to do with my feelings, and everything to do with your guilty conscience. But that’s ok,” I placed my hand on his knee, and leaned in toward him. I lowered my voice. “You’re forgiven.”

             
              “Forgiven for what?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. The bus was pulling into its stop at the mall, and I began pulling on my black leather gloves.

             
              “For assuming you’re my only admirer,” I told him as I stood and walked down the aisle and out the door. He followed close behind.

***

             
              I remember the evening had a strange, surreal aspect to it. Bing Crosby belting out holiday tunes through the tiny speakers set in the ceiling, pimply-faced boys shoving trays of smoked sausage under our noses as we passed by the Hickory Farms kiosk. Kids in stiff new suits and dresses, wriggling in line, waiting to sit on Santa’s lap.

             
              Inside the mall, I was on home territory. I put Abby out of my head, and focused on what I could do to win this war. If love is a battlefield, I figured sex was only one of its weapons.

             
              I dropped all signs of being rattled by the bomb he had dropped on me on the bus. Instead, I put all my energy into being charming, cute, and indifferent.

             
              “What do you need to get?” he asked me. He was oddly quiet, which I ignored.

             
              “We’re doing Secret Santas in The Pit, if you can believe that,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “I need a bunch of crappy gifts that say ‘Hey, I picked your name out of a hat!’”

             
              We wandered around, weaving our way in and out of stores. I accumulated a small trove of pens, hair accessories, and candy. I was chatty and silly, doing my best to keep any real emotion well hidden.

             
              It was nearly nine o’clock when we got back on the bus. We took seats next to each other in the back. This late at night, the bus to campus was nearly empty. The light snow was still falling, blanketing the world outside in a sparkling coat of white.

             
              “So, tell me about these other admirers,” he said suddenly in the darkness. I laughed.

             
              “I’ll tell you all about them as soon as you tell me about Abby,” I retorted.

             
              “So there’s more than one?”

             
              “I can’t possibly keep them all straight?” I teased.

             
              Silence.

             
              “Something wrong?” I finally asked. I was enjoying myself immensely. I liked the feelings of power his jealousy gave me.

             
              “It’s that hockey guy, isn’t it? What was his name?”

             
              I laughed again.

             
              “And Topher, but that’s been obvious for a while,” he continued.

             
              “Are you really going to ruin the night with all this?” I asked. “I thought you’d be happy to know that your actions don’t have me pining away in my room. I thought you just wanted me to be, what was it you said? Oh yeah. Happy.”

             
              He sat and stewed for a moment.

             
              “Look, it’s not a bad thing,” I continued. “I mean, I’m just sick of all these rules. Every rule I’ve made for myself has resulted in me getting hurt. So I’m done. No more rules.”

             
              “And that’s not a bad thing? You throw out the rules after they ruin what we might have had?”

             
              “I ruined nothing,” I reminded him. “Besides, ‘No Rules’ includes you.”

             
              More silence. When we reached campus, and began the walk back to Area 1, I took his hand.

             
              “What night is Abby coming up?”

             
              “Friday. Why?” he asked.

             
              “So are you available Thursday night?”

             
              “I suppose. Why? What do you want?”

             
              “I want you to take me to see Mercy at the SUB,” I told him. Mercy was a local band I had seen a few times over the summer. I knew John would like them.

             
              “A date? With the ever-so-popular Greer Bennett?” His sarcastic tone was back, and he squeezed my hand. “I’ll admit I’m a bit confused,” he continued. “But I’m also not very good at saying no to you.”

             
              “That’s what I’m counting on,” I said under my breath.

             
              Our feet crunched in the snow as he slowly walked me back to Wyndham.

***

                            I knew I couldn’t do anything about Abby. She was out of my control. She would be arriving the next evening, whether I liked it or not. But for some reason, John was worth a fight. Chemistry, I guess. It does funny things to a girl.

             
              It turned out Ben and Jared wanted to go to the Mercy show, too, so we met them there. I was wearing my sexiest outfit, which was not much more than my perfectly worn Levi’s, a black V-neck t-shirt, and youth. And my boots, of course.

             
              “You’re beautiful,” John said to me as we removed our jackets and dropped them in a pile on the floor in the corner. He was leaning against the wall, watching me. He was smiling.

             
              Having been to many shows, I was not shy when it came to dancing. I looked to John a number of times, and locked eyes with him while I moved to the music. Even when I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel him watching me. He and his buddies were leaning against the wall on the side of the room, bobbing their heads and watching the musicians play.

             
              At one point, when they thought I wasn’t listening, I heard Ben say to John:

             
              “If you don’t take her home tonight, mind if I do?”

             
              After the show, we parted ways with John’s friends, and headed back to Area 1. I was flushed from so much dancing, and hardly felt the bite of the frigid air on my exposed skin.

             
              “What now?” he asked.

             
              “I am way too amped to go back to The Pit,” I said, practically dancing circles around him.

             
              We found ourselves back at Holt. We were hardly inside his door before he began kissing me.

             
              “I don’t care if this is wrong,” he mumbled into my neck, his hands fumbling to get my jacket off. “I want you so bad right now.”

             
              “How bad?” I whispered, reaching for his belt.

             
              “It’s been so long,” he murmured, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my black, satin bra. I slid his belt out from his jeans, and unbuttoned his button. He hurriedly lit a few candles on his dresser and switched on the stereo to drown out the sounds of the boys outside in the hall. Peter Murphy’s dark and sultry voice cut through the room as I sat at his desk chair and let him slide my boots off.

             
              “You were so hot tonight,” he said, running his hands up my legs, and kissing me again. “Watching you dance was so sexy.”

             
              He knelt on the floor in front of me, between my knees. I ran my fingers through his blond curls, and wrapped my legs around his hips.

Keep going, I told myself. You can’t stop now. This is exactly what you want.

I don’t remember the awkward climb up into his loft bed, but I do remember him asking me one more time if I was ok with what we were doing.

             
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered between kissing my lips and kissing my ears.

             
“Absolutely,” I answered, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

             
I had no idea the appetite he had for me until that night.

             
“You drive me crazy,” he told me as he removed my Levi’s and kissed me from my lips to the inside of my thighs.

             
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” as he slid my panties down, and dropped them on the floor below.

             
“I could fall in love with you,” as he pushed himself inside me.

***

              Afterward, as we lay in a tangled, sweaty, breathless knot, I teased him for dropping the L-bomb.

             
“You better be careful, throwing that word around. One day, some poor girl is going to take you seriously,” I said, doing my best not to be that girl.

             
“The only girl I want to take me seriously is you,” he whispered, his eyes closed.

             
“Taking you seriously is about as safe as playing Russian roulette,” I told him. “I never know, each time I see you, whether or not my heart will end up splattered on the wall.”

             
“Nice image,” he said, opening his eyes. He propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at me intently.

             
“Why are you here tonight? Why now, after everything?”

             
Because I’m crazy?

             
Because I’m stupid?

             
Because I’m in love?

             
“I’m tired of watching other people get what I want,” I told him, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I spent four years in high school wishing I was someone else. I don’t want another four years like that.”

             
“You don’t regret what we did?” he asked me, his eyes serious.