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Authors: Kirstie Collins Brote

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BOOK: Beware of Love in Technicolor
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              “Getting better,” he replied, trying to take my hand. I stopped him.

             
              “No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not why I’m here.”

             
              He shoved his hands in his pockets, and we walked in silence.

             
              I took a booth by the window while he ordered his lunch. He slid into the booth with a tray of fried food, and looked at me. He looked awful. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Though he had cleaned himself up, he still looked rumpled and worn out. He needed a haircut, and his David Bowie t-shirt had seen better days. I had never wanted to kiss him more than at that moment.

             
              “You look terrible,” I told him.

             
              “Thanks,” he answered. “I feel terrible.”

             
              “What happened to you?”

             
              “It turns outs, I can’t walk on water,” he replied cryptically.

             
              “Not many of us can,” I said.

             
              He took a bite of his cheeseburger, and I stared out the window. Students with book bags were heading to and from class.

             
              “Don’t you have chemistry right about now?” I asked him.

             
              “Yeah, I’ll get the notes from Ben.” He slid his tray of uneaten food aside, and placed his hands, palms up, on the table. I put my hands in his, and met his gaze.

             
              “It’s been four days, and I miss you,” he said.

             
              I let him sit in the silence between us, but I did not avert my eyes.

             
              “You haven’t been returning my calls,” he continued.

             
              “I’ve needed a few days to get my head together, figure things out,” I said.

             
              “I never would have done it, if I had known how things would turn out,” he interrupted.

             
              “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling my anger rise. I tried to remain calm. I wanted to be the one in control. “How else could it have turned out? Unless you had planned on lying to me indefinitely.”

             
              “I never lied. I may not have said anything, but I never lied.”

             
              “A lie by omission is still a lie,” I said, turning my gaze back to the rush of student life outside. “You led me to believe something that wasn’t true, and that, by definition, is a lie.”

             
              He took his hands out from under mine. I looked back at him.

             
              “What is it you want, Greer?” I’ve said I’m sorry. If there’s nothing more I can do, tell me and I’ll leave you alone.”

             
              I don’t want to be left alone,” I said. I even surprised myself. What happened to being in control?

             
              “I think that’s the first real thing you’ve said to me,” he said, smiling slightly.

             
              “But I can’t just forget about it, either,” I continued. “So, I’m demoting you.”

             
              “Demoting me?” he asked with a puzzled look crinkling his strong Nordic features.

             
              “Friends,” I said. “That’s it. At least for now.”

             
              We were both quiet for a moment. The tension dissipated somewhat.

             
              “When will I be up for a promotion?” he asked, smiling the crooked smile that he knew made me crazy.

             
              I flashed my pearly whites right back at him. I was learning that a good offense was my best defense.

             
              “As soon as I’ve slept with someone else.”

             
              And don’t you know, that drove him absolutely mad.

 

 

***

 

 

                            We spent the next three weeks as friends. I divided my time on Holt, second-long evenly between John and Topher’s rooms. I shot pool with the guys. I even went along to a room party, leaving behind the scowl and attitude from the past.

             
              It was basically the same group as before, minus Topher’s friend, Brett. They played games like Quarters and Asshole, while I looked on. I loved watching John when he did not know I was watching. The way his ashy blond curls fell over his eyes, how much larger and stronger he appeared than any other guy near him. I thought I would just nurse a beer or two; sip it slowly to drop the prissy reputation. I was so wrapped up in studying John that I lost track of how fast I was drinking my Milwaukee’s Best.

             
              Four beers later, when he took me aside to ask if I minded if they smoked weed, I said, “Hell, no!”

             
              He started laughing.

             
              “You’re drunk!” he stated loudly.

             
              “I’m not drunk,” I insisted. I did my best to focus and be serious. But it was no use; I burst out laughing.

             
              “I’m a little drunk,” I admitted in a loud whisper.

             
              “Are you sure you don’t mind if I smoke?” he asked again.

             
              “I’m not your keeper,” I said. I patted him on the head and stood up. It took all my strength to balance, and not fall on my ass.

             
              “I have to pee,” I announced, heading for the door.

             
              I heard them all laughing as I headed out into the bright light of the hall.

 

 

***

 

 

                            Later that night, John walked me home.

             
              “Come inside,” I told him at the door of Wyndham, not wanting to let him go back into the night. He shook his head.

             
              “You’re drunk, Greer,” he said, tucking the hair behind my right ear. “You don’t really want me to do that.”

             
              “I am drunk!” I announced. He quickly shushed me. It was highly frowned upon by campus security, and John still had a bottle of vodka in his backpack. I laughed at his seriousness.

             
              “I am drunk,” I whispered loudly, smiling coyly at him. “All the more reason to make sure I get back to my room nice and safe, don’t you think?”

             
              “You are very bad, Greer,” he said. I saw his resolve crumbling.

             
              “I’m terrible,” I said, reaching in my coat pocket for my dorm key. “It’s what keeps you so interested in me.” I flung open the door. He stood, frozen, on the steps.

             
              “C’mon,” I persisted. “We’ll just watch Saturday Night Live, while I sober up. I’ll buy you a pizza,” I offered.

             
              “Well, for a pizza,” he said, smiling, and entering Wyndham.

             
              We watched the entire episode of SNL, even the last ten minutes that always suck. He laughed at me for picking the cheese off my pizza, and made me drink plenty of water.

             
              Molly was away with the crew team for the weekend, so I had my room to myself. When the TV went to test pattern, and both of us ran out of reasons to prolong the night, John made motions to leave. He stood in the middle of my floor, beat up leather jacket draped over his arm.

             
              “You don’t have to go,” I said to him. I was sitting on my desk. My feet were planted firmly on the seat of my chair. “And I’m not saying that because I’m drunk.”

             
              “What’s changed?” he asked.

             
              “Nothing,” I said. “I just don’t want you to go. You could even take Molly’s bed, if you like.”

             
              He gave a short laugh.

             
              “Can friends just hold each other?” he asked, walking toward me.

             
              “I think that’s allowed,” I nodded.

             
              “Then I think I’ll stay.”

 

 

***

 

 

                            “What do you want from me?” he asked at one point. We were under the covers. He was still fully dressed. I had changed into a t-shirt and Umbro shorts.

             
              “You mean in an ideal world, or right now?” I asked back. He bit my ear.

             
              “Both, you wiseass,” he said.

             
              “I want you to follow me to the ends of the earth,” I told him. “I want you to be my Heathcliff. And until I get that, I guess I just want this.”

             
              Neither of us fell asleep before the sun came up. We lay in bed, his arms wrapped around me, laughing and talking. Eventually, sleep overtook us, and we didn’t wake up until nearly noon that Sunday.

 

 

***

 

 

                            Thanksgiving break came and went. I moped about, missing John for most of the holiday, until my dad told me to snap out of it. It was only four days, after all.

             
              Penny and I went shopping the day after Thanksgiving. I spent a good portion of the day gushing about John.

             
              “Can we talk about something else?” she finally snapped when we sat down with some frozen yogurt. I’m sure I must have looked hurt, but she didn’t flinch. “Seriously, Greer, I’m glad you found yourself a boyfriend, but I’m sick of hearing about it.”

             
              “Sorry,” I snapped back. “I just thought maybe we could talk about something interesting, instead of bitching all the time about how awful college is. Are you still coming home to your mom and dad’s house every weekend?”

             
              I knew I had hit a nerve. She was terrified of letting go, just as I had been. But I did it, and now I was having the most incredible time of my life. I couldn’t help but advocate.

             
              We rode home in silence. She dropped me in my driveway, and we didn’t speak again until Christmas break.

 

 

***

 

 

                            When Sunday evening rolled around, I was glad to be back in my room in The Pit. Molly would not be back for another day, which gave me some quiet time to try and get a handle on my computer programming class. As it turned out, instead of breezing through the class, it was goddamn hard. When I asked my father or help, he just looked at the assignment and shook his head.

             
              “Why are you learning PASCAL when everyone is using C++ now?” he asked with a scowl. And this was supposed to be beginning programming.

             
              I sat working, my mind wandering. I wonder if he’s back yet. I wonder if he’s going to call tonight. I wonder what he’s been doing these past four days. I wonder if he saw
her
.

             
              I finally gave up on the garbled mess of letters, numbers, and misplaced punctuation, and walked to my mirror. I stared at myself for a long time. I pulled back my hair and wondered what it would look like really short. I wondered if Abby was a blonde or a brunette. I wondered how pretty she was, and if she was prettier than me. I wondered if it was all about sex, and how I could put a stop to them.

 

 

***

 

 

                            John and I sat on the bus two days later, on our way to the mall for a little holiday shopping. It was the night he confirmed my suspicions.

BOOK: Beware of Love in Technicolor
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