Anatomy of a Single Girl (6 page)

“Holy hotness! Break me off a piece of that!” She keeps dancing.
“Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?”

“I told you, just one closed-mouth kiss.
And, like, he
does
have a car
.”

“Did he get hard?”

“Oh, good lord.” I crack up. As juvenile as we sound, sometimes the most fun thing in the world is laughing with girls about boys. “I doubt it. We were lip to lip for only a moment.”

“Well, it’s just fabulous that at long last this is all happening! I really thought you were too scared—” She stops short. “Strike that. Brain fart.”

“Yeah, right. What’s there to be scared of?”

“You know …” She shrugs uncomfortably. “Maybe getting hurt again like you were by a certain former track teammate of mine. For a while there, you were sure you wouldn’t
ever
feel better.”

After a protracted breath I shake my head. “Actually, I’ve never been scared. I don’t think I
could
get hurt again, at least not as badly. I’m, like, inoculated now.”

“Not necessarily. My mom has counseled people on their second or third major split, and sometimes those breakups are way tougher than the first.”

“Yay. Something to look forward to.” I lean back and stare at the ceiling. “I wonder if it
would
be possible to create a heartbreak vaccine. I’d win the Nobel Prize.”

“Sorry, Dom. I didn’t mean to bring up sad stuff. And I’m really sorry about Brie-
dzilla
at the barbecue. Ever since Matt got down on one knee, she has acted like an authority on everyone else’s private life. She’ll say crap to me like, ‘You and Joel are next!’ And I’m like,
‘I’m barely nineteen! Get a clue!’
Besides, after this weekend, I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be better if Joel and I just called it quits.”

“Oh, no!” I sit up again, astounded that even Amy can sound so cavalier about this. “What happened with you guys?”

“Nothing bad, but nothing amazing, either. If only he and I could rewind to
our
first date. Things were so much more exciting before we saw each other burp, or with boogers, and we didn’t know each other’s faults yet. Now all the mystery is gone. In Kansas, I was hoping that a few romps in the great outdoors would spice things up with us, but can I just say, campsite coitus is almost more trouble than it’s worth.” She lifts up the hem of her blouse to reveal dozens of fresh chigger bites on her back.

“Ick. You’re gonna be itching for days.”

“And on the flight here, I got so mad at myself for leaving home just because of a guy. How did
I
become the type who travels fifteen hundred miles for eight inches?”

I roll my eyes. “Because Joel isn’t just any ‘guy.’ And you’ve been together since August. And you have a ton in common. And you’re in love with each other … unless you’ve changed your stance on him?”

“No,” she says flatly before fetching calamine lotion from the bathroom. “I don’t mean to whine so much. I get that these are ‘good problems’ to have. It’s just this long-distance thing makes everything harder, but I’m preaching to the choir on that one.”

“Yeah, but distance wasn’t all bad. When Tulane started, it was nice being able to focus on school without having a boyfriend right there. I don’t know how I would’ve found enough time to study otherwise.”

“Well, I’m definitely getting a lot done without Joel around. I’m keeping up my running and sketching, and I’m already looking into gallery jobs for next year.”

“See? And if you two can get through this summer, then you can probably get through anything. Being separated is like a litmus test for a relationship, so think of it as an experiment.”

“Huh … maybe,” she says, more upbeat. “Which reminds me. I take it recent developments have put the kibosh on
your
‘experiment’?”

I’m about to ask what she means, when the answer erupts in my head, and I feel my stomach knot. After a pause I admit, “Haven’t thought about it. Ever since the hospital yesterday, Cal kinda dropped off my radar.”

“That seems pretty conclusive to me,
Coppertone
.”

“Ugh. If things progress with Guy, I guess I’ll have to tell Cal. Friends tell friends when they’re dating someone, right?”

“Prepare yourself, because that conversation’s gonna suck! He’ll act happy for you, but you know it’ll ruin all his hopes and crush his little lovelorn heart.”

“Please, Ames. Don’t feel the need to sugarcoat the situation,” I quip sarcastically. “It’s not like Cal’s feelings are monumentally important to me or anything.”

But by nightfall, Calvin is pushed out of my mind again when Guy follows through on his word to call and reiterates that last night/this morning rocked. We then compare schedules, only to discover that we won’t be able to see each other again until the weekend—that’s five more days. I consider canceling one of my bratsitting gigs to make time for him sooner. But even if I didn’t need the spending money, I don’t
want to fall back into old patterns of letting a boy consume my life. Besides, I’m thrilled just to have someone like Guy to miss.

Guy calls on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, which to me is as good as kisses. Any sign that I’m being thought about by a boy
I’m
thinking about is all I need to feel secure in his feelings for me. So when I don’t hear from Guy on Thursday, rationally I know that nothing has changed and he probably still likes me … but emotions aren’t rational. And since I refuse to agonize over a boy ever again if I can help it, I decide to take control and phone him for reassurance. Who says that initiating communication is a dating rule “don’t”?

“Hey, Dom,” he answers brightly. “What’s happening?”

“Not much. I’m about to go to bed, and I felt like saying hey.” After all, I shouldn’t need any better excuse to contact someone who’s on track to be my boyfriend.

“It’s that late already? Damn, I haven’t even left lab yet. Sometimes time gets away from me when I’m in the flow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were working now. I’ll let you get back to it—”

“Not so fast. You still free to hang out tomorrow after the hospital?”

“Yeah, of course!” I exclaim, half-jubilant that all seems well with us, and half-angry at myself for worrying that it wasn’t. I wish my imagination weren’t so prone to run wild with worst-case scenarios.

“Cool. If you don’t mind trekking to my ’hood, I can show you what I do all day.”

“That’d be great! I haven’t been to Ford in forever.”

We then plan for me to park my bike at his place so we can walk to the Physical Sciences Complex together.

“Beta’s the big green house at the end of Fraternity Row,” he tells me.

“Got it. So, I guess I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Not soon enough, but oh, well. Till tomorrow.”

My breath shudders, and I can’t help but project way into the future. It’d be so cute if we sent out engagement announcement cards with the heading “the physicist and the physician.”

“Till tomorrow, Guy.”

8

T
he following evening, Guy answers the Beta house door with a smile and a kiss, before taking me, as planned, to his lab. While he proceeds to demonstrate how all the equipment operates with the same zeal as a kid in a toy store, I’m reminded of my only teacher crush, Mr. Chesnoff from tenth-grade chemistry. It was never my favorite science subject, but he was so brilliant and passionate in that sexy professor kind of way that I attended all his extra-help sessions just so I could have an excuse to stare at him.

An hour later, as we’re exiting the Physical Sciences Complex, Guy proposes having dinner at a nearby sushi bar
that gives student discounts on Fridays. “One of the Betas is studying abroad in Tokyo and keeps blogging about the food, so now I’m jonesing for it.”

“Sounds good, but you’ll have to help me order. I’ve never had sushi before.”

Immediately, Guy stops and gazes off into the distance.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m just trying to decide which is more tragic—life without
Star Wars
or life without spicy tuna hand rolls.… I think it’s a toss-up.”

“Hey, buddy! I’ve been managing just fine without either.”

“No matter. My mission is clear. Somebody has to introduce you to the finer things.” Then he slings his arm over my shoulder and leads me to the restaurant.

By nightfall, Guy and I have put away an entire sampler platter. I was afraid sushi would be slimy, but it’s lighter and tastier than it looks. My impression may have more to do with the setting, though, which includes a corner table, dark lighting, and bluesy jazz playing in the background with a very suggestive bass beat. Guy even insists on paying again in return for cleaning out my parents’ fridge last time. Then afterward, as we’re strolling back to campus, he winds his arm around my waist. It seems like forever since I’ve been this happy, which is a whole different ball game than feeling content or satisfied or blessed. I’m so happy, I don’t care how sad it is that I needed a boy to reach this level.

“So, wanna hang out inside?” Guy asks as we approach my bike. “You already showed me your pad. It’s only ‘equal’ that I show you mine.”

I knew this was coming, but my pulse springs up to three digits anyway. Before I can say anything, he adds, “Wait. Let me guess. You’ve never been to a frat house before, either.”

I cock my head at him. “I’m not
that
sheltered. For Saint Patrick’s, some girlfriends and I went to a Sigma Nu bash. Although, we never did get past the yard—it was too packed.”

“Well, crowds won’t be a problem tonight. Everyone’s at a bar crawl, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” He shoots me a sultry grin, and it’s good that it’s dark out so he can’t see my cheeks burn at what we both know he’s suggesting.

“The thing is, if I stay, it can’t be for more than an hour or two.” I inform him how Amy’s leaving early tomorrow for her bridesmaid-dress fitting in Tampa, and I already promised to spend the day with her and take turns driving there. “I need a full night’s sleep so I’m not bushed for the trip.”

“That’s cool. We’ll make the most of our time.” He grins again before charging up the front steps.

Beta’s ground level is laid out like a typical home, except it has a ton more couches and the biggest wide-screen I’ve ever seen. Crumbs and dust bunnies coat every flat surface. A three-foot stack of porno DVDs is piled right next to the Wii games. And no matter where you turn, there’s a wasteland of alcohol paraphernalia—discarded beer bottle caps, dirty shot glasses, a funnel tube.… The second level resembles a traditional boys’ dorm, complete with a long central hallway and the omnipresent odor of Febrezed-over pee. So all in all, it’s tamer than I envisioned. As Guy keys his lock, my heart speeds up again. Although I’m glad his brothers aren’t around to sidetrack him, being alone intensifies the atmosphere even more.

Guy flips on his bed lamp, revealing his room to be surprisingly bare. It needs vacuuming like the rest of the house, and the trash can’s overflowing with empty chip bags and take-out boxes. Otherwise, there’s little else besides a lava lamp by the window, a barbell in the corner, a bobble head on his dresser, and a triple-screen monitor on his desk.

“Wow, I never pegged you as a hoarder,” I joke.

Guy smiles. “I try never to have more stuff than I can fit in my car. I hate feeling weighed down.”

“That’s smart.” I recall the six giant suitcases required to pack up my dorm room, and that’s not counting all the boxes I put in storage.

Next I take a closer look at the bobble head, which is a man wearing a colonial-looking coat and holding an apple. On the base it says
SIR ISAAC NEWTON (1642–1727)
.

“So is he, like, your idol?” I ask.

“Let’s just say I’d give up sushi for good if I could be as badass as him.”

“Yeah, I guess it
is
pretty huge figuring out gravity.”

“
And
calculus.
And
optics.
And
the laws of motion. And what’s insane is, he came up with a lot of that stuff in the two years Cambridge closed down during the bubonic plague. So he essentially founded modern science
on vacation
!”

I shake my head. “I’m so jealous. That kind of genius is unreal.”

“Yeah, but brains are worth crap unless you put in the time. Newton was such a workaholic, he died a virgin.”

I laugh nervously. That was the
last
thing I expected to hear. “Like … that’s documented fact?”

“It’s pretty much assumed. There’re hilarious stories of
John Locke bringing him women and Newton getting mad and turning them away.”

I laugh again. “I guess that explains where he got all his time to innovate.”

I scan the room for a less sexual conversation topic. Then I notice that the bed opposite Guy’s is stripped. “I thought Bruce roomed here also.”

“He does, during the year. But there’re few enough residents now that we don’t have to share digs. He’s across the hall for the summer.”

Suddenly Guy shuts the door behind us. My heart spasms in anticipation. I take a seat on the bare mattress and keep the dialogue going.

“So, is Bruce researching in your lab, too?”

“Nah-uh. He’s working at the campus observatory through July, and then at the planetarium next month.”

Guy sits on his own bed.

“Were you friends before pledging Beta?”

“No. We had the same intro classes, since he’s majoring in astronomy, but I didn’t really get to know him till Hell Week.”

Guy slides off his watch.

“ ‘Hell Week’? Uh-oh. So you were hazed?”

“Oh, yeah. The suckiest was the night Bruce and I were woken up at three a.m. and locked in a closet together with a raw onion. They wouldn’t let us out until it was gone.”

Guy unlaces his sneakers.

“You
ate
a whole raw onion?
Sooooo
nasty.”

“P.S. Afterward we had to smoke a cigar, and then we weren’t allowed to brush our teeth for two days.”