Mine: A Love Story (4 page)

“I wanted to talk to you after class,” he says, “but that other chick started talking to me. By the time I got rid of her, you were gone.”

I look into his eyes, trying to see if he’s still teasing. His eyes are even prettier close-up. The green flecks seem to be floating in the blue. He seems sincere, but I’m not going to commit myself.

“Yeah, I bet you were totally bummed,” I say, smiling and keeping my tone light. “A cute girl wanting to talk to you. Guys must hate that.”

He laughs. “Well, not usually. But I really did want to talk to you. This is way better, though. If we’d talked after class, I’d probably never have known about your fascination with colors. Now we’ll have a great story to tell our grandchildren.”

Whoa! Grandchildren
? This guy is smooooth. Cautious girl better be extra careful here!

“More like a story you’ll tell the guys back at the dorm,” I say. “About this crazy chick who came up to you and started spouting off colors.”

“Naaah, I’ll tell the guys in the dorm you walked up to me and started talking dirty. They’ll like that story much better.”

We both laugh. He’s kidding—I hope!

“Do you think your friend wants you to wait for her?” he asks. “Or would it be okay if I walked you back?”

Are you kidding, I think to myself. She’d
love
it if you walked me back. But no way am I going to tell him that. Let’s see if he can take as well as he gives.

“I don’t think she’d mind,” I say. “But how do you know
I
want to walk back with you?”

“Ouch,” he says. He makes an exaggerated bow. “Fair lady, would you kindly allow me the pleasure of walking you home?”

I smile. “Well, when you put it like that, how can a girl refuse?”

I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.

Chris nods toward my shopping bag. “Can I carry that for you?”

Uh, oh. Funny
and
a gentleman. And did I mention he’s cute, too?

“Sure,” I say. I hand him the bag.

He grabs it by the handles, and then pretends it’s so heavy it pulls his arm down to the ground. “What have you got in here?” he asks. “I didn’t know The Buff sold weights.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” I say as he lifts the bag back off the sidewalk. “I bought a shirt, a sweater and a pair of boots.”

“Boots, huh?” He gives my legs a long, playfully leering look. “Boots would look good on you. What kind did you get?”

“Oh, nothing special,” I say matter-of-factly as I begin walking. Chris falls into step beside me. “Just a pair of knee high black leathers.” I pause for effect. “With six-inch stilettos. They’ll go great with my leather hot pants.”

Chris stops abruptly. I wish I had my cell out, so I could snap a picture of his face. After a moment, he realizes I’m messing with him, and he grins.

“Better be careful where you wear that combo,” he says. “Guys’ll get whiplash if you walk past them in hot pants and six-inch heels.”

I smile. “Whiplash? From little ol’ me?”

He laughs, and makes a show of moving his eyes slowly from my face all the way down to my feet. “Either that, or you’ll get arrested for soliciting.”

Did I mention he’s funny? We resume walking.

“So, are you a freshman or sophomore?” he asks.

“Just a freshman,” I say.

I hope that’s okay. Chris seems older.

“Cool. Welcome to State.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“Sophomore.”

“So, what got you to take a class like Vampire Lit?” I ask. “You got a thing for vampires?”

“Naahh….” The flecks in his eyes seem to twinkle. “I just figured it’d be an easy credit. Got to grab ‘em where you can.”

“And I bet it didn’t hurt that the class is mostly girls, either.”

He looks at me all innocent like. “Is it really? I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, right,” I say, laughing. “Says the guy who told me he was looking for a seat next to a cute girl.”

He laughs. “Well, like I said, you’ve got to grab ‘em where you can. But really, the easy credit was the draw. The other is just a bonus.” He gives me another once-over with his eyes. “A very nice bonus, I have to say.”

I feel myself blushing. I don’t know how to reply to that. Luckily, Chris takes me off the hook.

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you one of those vampire fanatics?”

“No, not really. I’m a sucker for love stories, though.”

“That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad to hear you’re not a complete vampire freak.”

“I liked the Twilight books,” I admit, “but it was more about the romance and passion than the vampire stuff. I figured the books would be part of this class, so that would save me some reading.” I smile. “But getting a credit for something that sounded fun and easy was the main thing.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Chris says.

He pauses for a moment. I can tell he’s thinking—I bet he doesn’t know he’s biting his lip. He looks like he’s about to get serious.

“So, Heather,” he asks finally, “is there some lucky guy from high school you go home to on the weekends?”

His question catches me so off guard I almost miss a step. It’s a good thing I don’t wear heels—I’m sure I would have tripped.

“No,” I say. “Just my dog, and he doesn’t need to see me every week. What about you? You got a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just broke up with her.”

Uh, oh. A rebound. Be careful, girl! Maybe that’s why he seems so interested. I definitely don’t want to get involved with anything like that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. I really am sorry to hear it—not to hear that he’s single, but that it just happened recently. “When did you two break up?”

“About ten minutes ago,” he says, “when this totally cute girl started talking colors at me.” He tries to keep a straight face, but his mouth stretches into a grin.

“Stop it!” I say, but I can’t help laughing.

“Actually, we broke up back in June.”

I do a quick calculation. Three months. Not bad.

“How come?” I ask. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Naahh, I don’t mind,” he says. He doesn’t look troubled at all. I wonder if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “She said I was too sweet.”

“Really?” I definitely did not expect to hear that. Maybe she was one of those girls who like bad boys. Lots of girls do, I know.

“And too funny,” he continues.

Oh, he’s kidding again. “Yeah, right,” I say. “I think you’ve been dreaming, Chris.”

“And too good in bed,” he adds.

I crack up. “Now I know you’re dreaming. Were you too rich and too smart, too?”

He laughs. “Hey, were you listening when she broke up with me?”

Now we’re both laughing. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Marissa and I laugh a lot, but it’s different with a guy.

We keep walking. Chris is really easy to talk to. And our few silences are comfortable, too, which is not something I’m used to. Silences at home are usually just the prelude to an explosion. I like this much better.

We reach my dorm waaay too quickly.

I’m sitting on my bed, strumming my guitar. Not playing anything, really, just fooling around. I got it out as soon as I got upstairs, didn’t even take my new clothes out of the bag, which is still sitting on the floor. I like the weight of the guitar on my lap, the feel of the strings beneath my fingers. Playing the guitar helps slow my mind when it’s racing. And believe me, it’s racing along pretty good right now.

The door swings open and Marissa comes bustling through the doorway. She tosses her bag onto her bed and sits down next to me.

“So, how’d it go?” she asks.

“You mean after you shoved me at him?” I say, trying to sound stern.

She grins. “Yeah, then.”

“And after I blurted ‘red, blue, green, black?”

Marissa’s hands fly to her cheeks. “You didn’t!”

I strum a chord on my guitar. “Yep, I did. Thanks to you.”

Marissa tries to stifle a laugh. She’s only partially successful.

“What did he say to that?”

“He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Then he said ‘orange, yellow, purple, white.’”

“No way!” She’s full out laughing now. “That’s too funny,” she says finally. “Too funny.”

I smile. “He is pretty funny, I have to say. He told me his last girlfriend broke up with him because he was too funny.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And too sweet, and too good in bed.”

She laughs again. “He does sound funny.”

“And since you disappeared on me, he walked me home.”

She’s beaming now, obviously very pleased with the success of her scheme. “Just trying to help,” she says. “No need to thank me.

“Ha, ha. Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“I told you it doesn’t matter what you say to guys, as long as you say something. Who would have thought red, blue, green, black was such a good pick up line? Maybe I’ll try it next time I see a guy I like.”

“Oh, and did I mention he asked me out?” I ask nonchalantly.

Marissa jumps up off the bed. “No way! When?”

“Tomorrow night.” I casually strum a couple more chords. “I told him I’d think about it.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes get wide. Her face reminds me of a poster of a famous painting I saw. It’s called “The Scream” or something like that.

“You did not! Tell me you didn’t say that.”

“Why not?” I ask innocently. “I didn’t want to rush into anything. He could be an axe murderer or something.”

Marissa digs her fingers into her hair. “What am I going to do with you?” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t say yes.”

I can’t keep the grin off my face any longer. Marissa realizes I’ve been playing her.

“Of course I said yes,” I say. “What did you think? He’s really nice.”

She sits back down on the bed and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m impressed, Roomie. Most girls have to actually
wear
their hunting outfit to catch a guy’s interest. All you had to do was carry yours in a bag.”

I’m sitting alone in my room, doing nothing. Marissa is gone for the weekend. It’s her younger sister’s birthday today and they’re having a big party for her. My first weekend away at college, and my roommate is gone. I could have gone home, too, but the point of living on campus is to NOT go home, at least not too often. Mom asked why I wasn’t coming home, and I told her I wanted to stay here to get to know the other girls. She said she understood, but I think she was a little hurt. I didn’t tell her I have a date tonight. I suppose I could have had Chris pick me up at home, but I don’t want any guys meeting Mom and Dad until they have to.

The afternoon is crawling by at a snail’s pace—no, make that like a snail stuck in the mud …going uphill…with a broken leg. That’s how slow the afternoon is going. Maybe even slower.

I’ve done everything I can think of to pass the time. My homework for the week is done. I’ve played my guitar until my fingers hurt. I texted back and forth with Marissa, but then she had to go. So now I’m channel surfing the television, but there’s nothing on except sports. If I was a guy, I’d be in heaven. But I’m not a guy, and I’m definitely not in heaven!

I come across “The Notebook” on TNT. Now I am in heaven. I love this movie! Allie and Noah are dancing in the street in the middle of the night—one of my all-time favorite scenes. Ohhh, to be Allie and to find a Noah. Have I mentioned I’m a sap for romance? No movie has done love and romance better than this one. I’m glued to my seat for an hour, and when the movie finally draws to a close, I’ve got a pile of wet tissues on the floor next to my chair. Like I said, I’m such a sap.

I wipe my eyes one last time and check the time. Four o’clock. Three hours until Chris picks me up. Now what?

I check the channel guide, hoping TNT will be repeating the movie, the way they sometimes do, so I can watch it from the beginning. But they’re not. The next movie isn’t even a love story—it’s something with cyborgs and zombies. Iccck! Talk about a crummy programming decision. All the guys are already watching football—why put on a zombie movie? Give us girls something to watch, please!

I click through the channels one more time, but there’s nothing remotely interesting to me. No love stories, no country music videos, no cool crossover shows like that one with Taylor Swift and Def Leopard. I sigh and switch off the TV.

I should have gone to the campus bookstore this morning and bought
Dracula
. Then I’d have something to read, at least. I could still go get it, but by the time I walked there and back, it would be time to start getting ready.

Thinking about getting ready is beginning to make me nervous. I’ve got my hopes up for tonight, but that only makes me more nervous. Aim small, girl, I tell myself. Be the cautious girl you’ve always been. Small expectations mean small disappointments. I’ve learned that lesson well.

Still, there are decisions to make. How should I do my hair? What should I wear? I’m such a dork about these things.

I go stand in front of the mirror. I wish Marissa was here. Why did her sister’s birthday have to be this weekend? It’s so not fair. She told me I should wear my new boots and new shirt with my yoga pants. Something about making sure I “seal the deal.” Seal the deal? What am I, trying to sell a car or something? Is that outfit even appropriate for a first date?

I stretch out on my bed and try to relax, wishing I had more experience with this dating stuff. How did I manage to go my whole senior year without going on even one date? The answer pops immediately into my head and brings a feeling of sadness with it. It was because of Justin, of course. Not that I blame him. No, I blame only myself. But he was the reason, for sure. I close my eyes and remember….

It’s a cool Sunday afternoon in the middle of November. Justin and I are sitting on an old fallen log in a park not far from my house. He looks great, as usual. He’s wearing his favorite jeans and a light green hoodie that makes his green eyes pop. We’ve been talking and laughing for over an hour. Nobody makes me feel as good as Justin does.

I’ve been in love with him ever since we met in English class in the second half of junior year. He’s everything I could ever ask for in a guy—smart, cute, honest and open. He’s unpretentious, too. I don’t even care that he’s one of the best players on the basketball team.

I know he likes me, too. We talk all the time, and text almost every night. There’s just one tiny problem—Nicole!

Justin likes me, but he’s in love with Nicole. They’ve been going out since junior year. Even I have to admit Nicole is hot, but she treats Justin like crap. He’s always bitching and moaning about it to me. How she doesn’t understand him, doesn’t really listen to him, doesn’t care about what he thinks.

That’s what he’s saying to me now. Telling me about an argument they had last night, and how Nicole just kept trashing everything he said.

I’d love to tell him I would never do that, but I don’t, of course. If only I could pound some sense into his beautiful head. Tell him to look past Nicole’s hot outfits and see her as a person. Tell him how shallow she is. How he deserves someone so much better. Someone like me.

Instead, I mumble something about how she’ll get over it, like she always does. And now here comes that beautiful smile again.

“I’m glad you’re my bud, Heather. You always know how to cheer me up.”

Ugggh! Bud. I hate that word. But to him, that’s what we are. Best buddies. He can’t see past Nicole.

And that’s how things stayed my whole senior year. I spent the entire year thinking Justin would finally see the light and come to his senses, but he never did. I thought we belonged together, but he obviously didn’t see it that way. Maybe he’ll wake up one day years from now and realize what he missed. That won’t do me any good, though.

I haven’t seen him in a couple of months. He accepted a basketball scholarship out of state, and left at the beginning of the summer to go work out with the team or something. At least he finally dumped Nicole. She’s here at State, but I don’t know if she’s living on campus. I wonder if I’ll ever see Justin again.

Anyhow, so now here I am, all stressed out about a first date. Most girls probably get over this in high school, but I never let myself have the chance to get used to it. I’d like to blame Justin, but I know it’s my fault. That doesn’t make it any easier though.

I get up and start ruffling through my closet. It’s going to take me a while to decide what to wear, so I may as well get started. I’ve got nothing better to do.

First decision: pants or a skirt. If I can decide on that, a top should be easy, I hope. Dresses are out—this is a casual date. Good thing, too, since I only have two dresses in my closet and I don’t really like either one. Jeans would be easy, and comfortable—but I’m afraid mine are
too
casual. It’s only a movie and pizza, but what if Chris dresses up a bit? Now, if I owned some designer jeans it might be different. But I don’t, of course.

I eliminate jeans.

I pull out three skirts and two pairs of pants and lay them out on the bed. Ugggh! Who bought this stuff? It all looks so high schoolish. Maybe this is why Justin never saw me as more than a buddy. I don’t want Chris to see me the same way. I’m definitely going to have to make another trip to The Buff with Marissa. She’ll be all for that, but unfortunately, it doesn’t do me any good right now.

Maybe my new silk shirt can save one of the skirts. I slip into a black one that stops just above my knees, then go back to the closet to get the shirt. I put it on and check myself out in the mirror.

No good. I like the shirt, but it’s really too long for this skirt. I try tucking it in, but I don’t like the way it looks. I try it with a longer navy skirt, but I don’t like that look, either. I’m running out of options. I may have to go with the yoga pants and boots by default.

I put off a final decision. It’s time to hop into the shower, anyway. My hair takes forever to dry, so unless I want to tuck it into a bun behind my head, I need to get going.

I look in the mirror again. This time, I’m liking what I see—kind of, at least. I’m wearing my hunting outfit. The combo is definitely both cooler and hotter than anything I’ve ever worn. And, I have to admit, the whole thing is really comfortable. Yoga pants and soft boots definitely rock the comfort factor. But do I have the guts to wear it outside of my room? The movie will be dark, of course, and for pizza we’ll be sitting in a booth, so maybe it won’t be too bad. And it’s not like I have a lot of choices. Okay, hunting outfit it is, winner by default.

Now, what about my hair? Should I wear it down and loose, or pull it back? Down and loose, I can hide behind it if I need to. Pulled back, it’ll be out of my way, one less thing to worry about. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I stress about it for a few minutes, then opt for comfort over concealment. Pulled back it is. I grab a hair band and gather my hair into a thick ponytail.

A soft knock sounds at my door. Oh my god! Is it seven o’clock already? I take one last look in the mirror. I see several things I want to change, but there’s no time. That’s probably a good thing, though. If I had any more time, I’m sure I’d drive myself crazy, if I’m not there already. Still, I make one final adjustment, flipping my hair forward over my left shoulder as I cross to the door. Now I can at least run my fingers through it if I get nervous.
If
I get nervous? Ha! My fingers are already dancing in my hair as I pull the door open.

Chris is standing there, smiling confidently. He looks great. He’s wearing dark gray pants and a black button shirt with vertical gold stripes. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks casual and classy at the same time. I wonder how long it took him to decide what to wear. Five minutes, probably, if that. I don’t think guys stress over this stuff like girls do. Especially girls like me. I’m glad I decided against jeans.

I’ve barely opened the door when the smile drops from Chris’s face. He stands there, staring at me with his mouth slightly open. His eyes travel slowly down from my face to my body. I feel like I’m on display, and that I’m failing the inspection. I knew I should have met him out in front of the dorm—I could have just jumped into his truck—but he wanted to be a gentleman and pick me up at my door. So now I’m stuck, standing here with nowhere to hide.

I look down at myself, wondering what he’s seeing. A thousand thoughts race through my brain. Did I spill something on myself? Am I too skinny? Too fat? Does he hate my outfit?

Say something, Chris, please. No, never mind, don’t say anything.
I don’t want to know
. I wish I could just disappear, or teleport myself somewhere. Anywhere but where I’m standing right now.

I’m never going on another date. Never, ever!