Chat Love (3 page)

Matt had been my best friend and we were known to do everything together. We went to both junior and senior prom, cheered at each other’s sporting events, studied for our SATs, and practiced the art of kissing every day. Matt was my first everything: my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first love, my first sexual experience, and my first heartbreak. The first time we told each other we loved each other was on July 4 before junior year, while watching the fireworks at Jones Beach. He had pulled me close and turned to me, giving me one of his goofy smiles while he said that he loved me. I had been so happy that I’d practically pounced on him, telling him repeatedly that I loved him too while he held me and giggled.

The first time we made love was on July 4 before senior year. We had decided to go away with a bunch of friends to the Hamptons, where Danni’s parents owned a house. After a barbeque and some lounging around the pool, we had watched the firework show put on by one of the neighbors. Throughout the whole show, I was a nervous wreck as I thought about what we were planning to do later. Matt and I had talked about the night for weeks; we both wanted our first time to be special and memorable. I remember trying so hard to focus on the fireworks instead of worrying.

Later, when we’d gone back to the house, Matt and I went to our room. I had on a black lace slip that Danni had helped me pick out from Victoria’s Secret the week before, and Matt had set the room up with candles. After the usual kissing and feeling that we were both accustomed to, he had taken off my slip and his boxers and put on a condom, settling himself between my shaky legs. Before he entered me, he asked me one more time if I was sure that I was ready, and with a slight nod from me he entered me, taking both our virginities. Pain had consumed me and I’d held onto his forearms, pressing my nails deep into his skin. I had felt wetness on my cheeks and realized I was crying. We’d tried to continue in our attempt at making love, but it had been too painful for me, and he was clearly not enjoying it while worrying about me. We had decided to stop before we finished, instead jumping into the bathtub to relax our tense bodies.

After that night, we didn’t try to make love again for weeks. Matt was too afraid to touch me and I didn’t know how to start touching him. Finally, after Danni’s constant nagging and advice, I decided to focus on trying to
seduce
him. After that, our sex life went from nonexistent to nonstop; we were like newlyweds who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

Eventually all good things must come to an end. I’d thought Matt and I were going to get married when we finished college, which would have pleased my parents—they loved him and were already calling him their son—but with both us going to different colleges in different states, Matt decided during freshman year that it would be better to part ways and try to remain friends. I was at NYU studying film and TV while Matt was at Georgetown studying political science. We had tried the long distance relationship but after time, I noticed Matt pulling away; he began visiting and calling less. Finally, he’d called to confess that he’d found someone else—a fellow political science major at Georgetown. Remembering that phone call still makes my heart ache. I had been in the middle of studying for an exam when I answered the phone, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey.” His voice sounded deeper than usual, as if he’d been crying.

I had risen from my desk chair, worried by the sound of his voice. “You OK?”

He had let out a long, stressful sigh, “No, not really. I don’t know how to say this …”

As his voice had trailed off, I felt my heart beat faster, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe and speak. I had squeaked out, “Say what?”

“Lucia, I will always love you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, already feeling the tears fall from my eyes. His tone had said it all. With a trembling voice I’d begged, “Please don’t do this. Matt, I love you.” I remember trying to think of some way to change his mind.

With a shaky voice of his own he’d said the dooming words, “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

For a few minutes Matt had let me cry into the phone, listening to every plea I delivered. Finally, I’d asked the question that I’d been dreading: “What’s her name?”

He replied, “Cindy.”

With that, Matt and I were finished.

After that, I finally gained the freshman fifteen while trying to numb my broken heart with Mexican food and beer. For a year, I refused to date anyone. I felt like a failure with my dead relationship while my sister and Danni were both in happy relationships with their boyfriends. I was miserable and just focused on my school work, while outside it felt like the rest of the world was celebrating Valentine’s Day every day. I couldn’t take twenty steps without seeing some happy couple holding hands and stealing kisses.

When Danni suddenly got engaged during the summer before junior year, I snapped out of my depression. Overweight and unhappy, I decided to rebel against the world. That summer, I spent every day at the gym, releasing tension from my body.

When I returned to school in the fall, I had lost weight and dyed my hair blonde. Hardly anyone recognized me. It made me feel good, like I’d been given a chance to start over. I met Ben one night in a study group that my friend and future roommate Autumn had dragged me to. We became fast friends and began hanging out every night.

Ben Nicolas was a junior like me. A tall guitar player from Florida, he had dark hair, tattoos, eyes so dark that they were almost black, and a tongue ring. He played in a band, wrote his own songs, and introduced me to hardcore rock; he was a talented. We started off as friends, me serving as his tour guide in the city, and he slowly drawing out my wild side. He took me to get a tattoo with him,—three little stars on my right hip,—something I’d always wanted but was too chicken to get. We went to concerts together, drank all night, rallied for causes, and he showed me how to smoke weed.

Soon our relationship grew, in spite of my family and friends’ disapproval. Ben took me to Florida to visit his family and go to Walt Disney World, and I was surprised to discover that his family was the complete opposite of the man that I knew; they had blonde hair, blue eyes, and conservative style. Still, they welcomed me with warm smiles and opened arms. During our visit to the Magic Kingdom, we went on the Peter Pan ride because it was one of my favorite Disney movies, and he kissed me, sealing our feelings. Ben made me feel comfortable to be myself and loved my rebellious side when others didn’t.

We took our time with our new relationship, making sure not to rush into anything. He understood my fears of my heartbreak and respected my desire to move slowly, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t until the final days of junior year that Ben and I expressed our true feelings for each other. I remember walking into his apartment, hearing Dave Matthews Band playing. Ben was dressed in a black shirt, tie, and dark jeans, with his hair styled. He smelled of the cologne I’d given him for our first month anniversary. He led me to a table set with dining ware, candles, and flowers. He made me eggplant parmesan and spaghetti, and we drank a bottle of my father’s homemade wine that I’d brought. After dinner, we made our way to his room, which was unusually clean. After a few minutes of kissing on his bed, Ben pulled away from me and looked deep into my eyes. I turned my head away and kissed his neck, uncomfortable at the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t do that.” He cupped my face gently with both hands and turned it toward him. “Don’t hide from me.” He moved a strand of hair from my face, and gently caressed my cheek. He said in a deep voice, “Lucia, my beautiful girl, I love you.”

His words took my breath away because I could actually see the sincerity in his face.

He gently pushed my body down so my back would lie on the bed. Hovering over me, he leaned his forehead against mine. I could feel every part of his body covering me, like a blanket shielding me from the cold.

He whispered, “Lucia, you don’t have to be afraid. Let go. Let me in.”

That’s exactly what I did as we finally made love.

After that night, things were wonderful for a while. But once again, I met heartbreak. After graduation, Ben got a job offer in California. While I was thrilled for him, I’d gotten an offer in Manhattan. Although Ben was willing to give up his dream job in order to stay and be with me, I knew he would one day resent me for it; I told him to choose his dreams. When it came time for me to take him to JFK airport, and out of my life for good, I finally broke down in his arms and cried. That day, Ben took a part of my heart with him. I had lost both my boyfriend and my protector. For some time, we tried to keep in contact by phone and e-mail, but hearing each other’s voices without being able to be together continued to grow more difficult. Finally, we decided that it would be best to try and move on with our lives by cutting off contact. Since that final conversation, I haven’t spoken to Ben once, although I still occasionally think of him.

After that second failed relationship and broken heart, I dyed my hair back to my original hair color and grew out of my “wild” ways. I worked as a freelancer, doing P. A. work on different television shows and movies. I dated some men but remained distant—no emotion, and no chance at risking heartbreak. Danni was married, Autumn was living with her boyfriend, and I was living by myself in a small studio.

Autumn Owen believes in the fairytale love story. She is always on the search for her Prince Charming, with a list of criteria she uses to determine a man’s eligibility as a potential husband. While I was moping about being single in the city, she was busy getting her master’s degree. Autumn is extremely smart and nurturing, known as the mother hen of my group of friends. A girl-next-door beauty, Autumn is petite at five foot two, with shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair and sparkling green eyes.

In an attempt to help me find my own prince after my breakup, Autumn constantly pushed me to go on dates, setting me up with her classmates and her boyfriend’s friends. Despite her best efforts, I never felt that spark with anyone; there were no tingles in my toes and no butterflies in my stomach—until one night when I was out with the usual group at a bar. That’s when I met Kellan Fields, a gorgeous, heart-stopping flirt. He was tall and lean, with just enough muscle, filling out his suit like an Armani model. His face perpetually displayed a cocky smirk, revealing his infectious confidence. He had dirty-blonde hair that always looked slightly tousled, like he’d just climbed out of bed, but not because he’d been sleeping. His dark, blue eyes kept you guessing; they were difficult to read. His had a jaw that you just wanted to lick, full but soft lips that made you melt when he kissed you, glowing skin, and the self-confidence of a man who was well endowed. Kellan Fields was practically a Greek god. He was able to control my emotions, made me feel things that I haven’t felt in a while.

The night we met, he asked me for my number and, like a stuttering idiot, I gave it to him, not realizing the danger I was walking into. Men like Kellan don’t have romantic relationships with women; they use women for sex and enjoy the control they have. But even though I knew exactly the kind of man he was, I still picked up my phone when he called and asked me out on a date. I was drawn to Kellan—his energy was too strong for my weak body.

We went out on our date the next night, and I was in trouble. He took me to Sushi Samba, one of my favorite restaurants, and after copious amounts of alcohol I was feeling more open-minded than usual. I’d never experienced anything resembling a one night stand, or even had sex on the first date, but Kellan was looking at me in a way that had me considering the idea. His gaze was making me feel beautiful and wanted, and my body had been deprived of sex since my breakup with Ben. To put it bluntly, I was drunk and horny. Kellan and I had raw, passionate sex that night, bringing me back to life and hooking me like an addict.

Of course, Kellan didn’t want the same things I did. I wanted him to be my boyfriend, to commit and fall in love with me, and to want a future. Kellan wanted sex, free from commitment and rules; he wanted to be friends with benefits. Obviously, we couldn’t continue for very long without having to discuss the matter. We officially decided what our relationship would be one night while hanging out at his apartment. We had already had sex once, and were relaxing while waiting for our take-out to be delivered. I was sitting on his couch, wearing one of his pajama bottoms and shirts while he was lounging around in similar fashion. We were watching
Law and Order: SVU,
only halfway paying attention to the action on the screen. I took a large sip from my soda, trying to relax my throat and prepare myself for the talk that I wanted to have. I’d gone over the conversation in my head many times, and had pictured a number of possible scenarios. I was, of course, hoping for the scenario in which I convinced Kellan to commit.

I cleared my throat and began, “Danni is now a single woman—her divorce is being finalized. It sure took the bastard long enough to sign the papers.”

He snorted, “Doesn’t surprise me. She was too young to get married, shit; I’m not ready for a relationship, let alone marriage.”

“Not ready?” I asked, pretending I didn’t already know what he meant.

He turned to me and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, not ready. I’m busy with work.”

“People work and have relationships,” I muttered under my breath.

Kellan shut the TV off and turned to face me, his body tense. “I thought you understood what I wanted. I thought you were cool with it. If you’re not then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this anymore. “His suggestion sent me into a panic; I wanted Kellan, and I’d fallen for him after only a few months. Who knew what the future might hold for us? I was willing to do anything to make him mine, even if that meant waiting for him to wake up and realize he wanted me to be his.

I quickly responded, “No, I understand what you are saying. We can take things slow. No need to put a label on anything, if that’s what you want. I’m cool with that.” I was lying, but if that was the price I needed to pay to keep him, then I would.