One (15 page)

While he was
half-naked.

With my top undone.

However, there's
something about tonight that makes me feel different. Maybe it's
because I've just finished my first week of school. Maybe it's
because I've felt more alive
here
than I've ever felt anywhere
else.

Thinking about the past
week, brings a smile to my face. College is nothing like high school.
The pace, the people, the
atmosphere
is new and exhilarating.
I thought coming here would be like attending school in an ant hill.
I'd seen it on Discovery channel once. Swarms of ants climbed in and
out of their home, with seemingly no order to the chaos. The narrator
said every one of the insects had a job to do, but I only saw hordes
of blackness moving, seemingly directionless. In some ways, attending
a big university like this one will harbor some disorder and
confusion, but I've decided the daily flutter of pandemonium is like
a pulse. The minute the chaos is destroyed, the heart of the school
is dead. Lifeless.

There are pockets of
peace and silence throughout the school that I've found while
exploring the multitude of buildings. A few skyways connect several
buildings, and when the sun shines through the glass windows, the
skyway feels like a little piece of heaven. It's a strange place to
study, but I like the wide hallway space and the carpet blanketing
the entrance of each end. There's even a sofa there. It's brown with
thick coverings, and still manages to feel softer than my mattress.

My butt prints are
probably still there,
I think with a smile. I just left half an
hour ago to get to my dorm. Since I don't have a cell phone, Pax
caught up with me one morning before school by student housing. The
first morning I saw him there I was shocked he came. In all honesty,
I'd thought he'd forgotten. I'd resigned myself to the fact already,
yet there Pax was standing on the steps like he owned it. He asked me
out for tonight and proceeded to walk me to my next class. Since I
was almost late due to an irresponsible roommate who
swore
she'd turn on the alarm, the "walk" turned into more of a
jog. There was no conversation, only a brief hug toward the end. I
went into class breathless.
From the jog,
I remind myself even
as the memory of Pax's strong arms floats to the surface of my mind.

I hear the sounds of a
key turning the lock. Quickly, I straighten from Nat's vanity stand,
trying to look nonchalant. "Hi," I greet her, keeping my
hands at my sides.

"Hey," Nat
responds, shutting the door behind her. "What's up?"

"Nothing."
It's what I always say because it's always true. Not tonight though.
"Um, actually, Nat. I was wondering if I could borrow your eye
liner."

She nods toward the
black make up bag on her vanity table. "Yeah, of course. You
don't have to keep asking. After all, mi casa
is
tu casa.
Literally."

I laugh. "Thanks."

Nat sets her keys down
on her bed. She plops onto it, shoes and all. Her mattress makes an
ancient creaking sound. "You're a workaholic, Jules," she
says, staring at the ceiling. "You'd probably work through the
night if they were open that late."

"Probably," I
agree, unzipping her make-up bag. I know right where the skinny black
liner is. I pick it up and take off the cap. The sharp charcoal lead
is perfect for the subtle lines around my eyes I plan on making.

"My goal this year
was to work hard, but God, watching you work makes me tired so I just
quit before I even start." I laugh. "I'm serious." She
gets on her elbows to look at me. "You're only eighteen, but
it's like you have an old soul inside or something."

I shrug, turning back
to the mirror. I don't think I have an old soul; I just think I'm
accustomed to working hard. Nothing was ever given to me. I had to
earn it. I feel her gaze on me as I line both eyes.

"Do the concealer,
too. You have a couple small sun spots near your eyes."

Obediently, I take out
a brush and dip it into a small container of powder. The brown
sunspots are darker than I remember, and gently I pat powder on top
of each.

"You missed a
spot," Nat tells me. I look into the mirror, and brush more
concealer on the side of my cheek. After I'm done, Nat says, "Bare
Mineral's the shizzle. I've even used it over my hickey." She
pulls her shirt down and I see a large red spot near her collarbone.

I drop the brush.

Nat giggles. "I
clean all my brushes after I use them, okay? It's not a big deal."

Except for it
is
.
Where else has that brush been?

"You know, you'd
be a lot prettier if you let down your hair."

I stare at my
reflection. I'm still shocked how something so small like eyeliner
can make such a difference to my face. My eyes appear pretty.
Gorgeous even. "You think?" I ask.

"Yeah. It would
totally be worth it to get your hair in the customer's food."

I think about Anna and
smirk. "Somehow I don't think my manager would agree."

"She will if
you're helping to bring in the big bucks," Nat waves her hand in
dismissal. "And pretty girls help with profit. Trust me."

"It doesn't
matter. I'm not going in to work tonight anyway."

"You're not
working on a Friday night?" Nat's eyes are round with disbelief.
"My God, I think winter's going to come early this year."

I throw a pillow at
her. "My manager didn't need me tonight. The company who booked
us is bringing in some of their own waiters," I explain.

"So what are you
doing putting on make-up then?"

I don't answer as I
walk to my side of the room. I open a plastic bag and rip off the
tags of a new shirt I recently purchased.

"Holy shit, Jules,
are you going on a date?" Nat's incredulous voice is laced with
so much disbelief I roll my eyes.

"Maybe I am,"
I say. "It's not a big deal."

"Jules!" Her
shriek is high-pitched like a little girl's. She scrambles to me,
almost toppling over on her thin stiletto heels. Her fingers are vice
tight when she grabs my elbow. "Is this your first date ever?"

A picture of the woods
and Josh's blue eyes flash in my head. My stomach clenches. "No."

"How many dates
have you gone on?"

I shift from one foot
to another, annoyed I'm uncomfortable with the question. Why does she
care anyway? "One," I answer.

"One? You've been
alive for eighteen years and you've only been on one date? Did you
live in a nunnery or something?"

"No," my
voice sounds snappy. Sometimes Nat's oblivious to how other people
might take her words. I take a deep breath and try again. "I had
a boyfriend. We were together for a while but we didn't really go on
dates. We just stayed at home watching movies, but we never really
went out."

"That's weird."

Our whole
relationship was weird.
I don't say it out loud.

"Did you guys kiss
at least?"

"Yeah," I try
not to make a face. "We did."

"Was he your first
kiss?"

I laugh. "No."
I sit on the bed, suddenly remembering. "My first kiss was when
I was nine and it involved a skinny boy, a wad of gum, and a few
stitches."

Nat's eyebrows shoot
up. "
This
I've got to hear."

"It was a pretty
embarrassing first kiss," I confess, shaking my head. "I
used to live next to a neighbor who had a little boy that was my age.
It was summer time and Grandma and his parents would work the farms
together. We would help them, but sometimes they would let us go play
instead." I close my eyes and I can feel the green grass beneath
my feet. I can smell the chemicals we used on the plants. "Well
one day we snuck off somewhere by ourselves and climbed on top of
this really massive tree. This boy, his name was Diego, was
fascinated by my hair. He always wanted to touch it. So I sat in
front of him and let him play with my hair. He was chewing gum and I
asked him for a piece. He told me he'd give me one if I kissed him on
the mouth." I remembered seriously considering it, trying to
negotiate for more than one piece. He'd boasted that he'd kissed many
girls before and the thought excited me more than it repulsed. I
agreed. "So I closed my eyes and leaned forward. I felt his
breath near me so he must have been leaning forward too." I
remember the anticipation humming through me, the excitement that
this
was going to be my first kiss.
This
was going to
be a day I'd always remembered. So far everything had been just like
in the movies: the handsome boy, the chatter of birds, the light
breeze that flittered through my hair, tingling my skin with
adrenaline. When his lips finally touched mine, it had felt strange
but wonderful. His lips were soft and warm like the coffee I snuck
from Grandma's cup when she was away. "He kissed me once, twice,
and it seemed to get better each time. Right when his mouth touched
mine for the third time, I heard yelling. It took a moment but I
finally realized it was Grandma yelling, telling me to get that boy's
lips off of me." A faint smile touches my lips as I remember the
shocked irritation in her voice. "Startled, I jerked away and
lost my footing. I ended up falling over twenty feet to the ground. I
didn't break anything, but somehow I ended up with a nasty gash on my
arm. I needed seventeen stitches."

"
Seventeen
?"

"Yes," I
wince, recalling the pain. We couldn't afford to go the hospital so
Grandma dipped her needle in alcohol and sewed my skin back together.
"Half the workers saw what happened. They teased us relentlessly
afterwards. It was
so
embarrassing. They told Grandma I
couldn't be trusted to be with a boy." Looking back, I know they
were teasing. I remembered the sparkle in their eye when they ruffled
my hair. At the time I was so embarrassed I refused all company, and
wore a hat to cover my face around the other workers.

I look at Nat. I think
about my first date, and Braidon. "I guess you could say I've
had a string of bad firsts."

"Maybe second time
around is the charm." She falls into my bed. "Or third. Or
fourth. Or fifth like me." Nat flashes me a grin. She leans in
closer. "Ever had sex before?"

My face reddens.
Braidon never tried. Maybe he wanted marriage. Maybe he wanted to
wait for the right moment. His mind is one I'll never understand. I
don't know why he held back; I'm only thankful that he did. "Nat!"
Something in my face tells her the answer.

"With your 'string
of bad firsts', it's safe to assume your first time will probably
suck. Everyone's first time usually does, but it definitely gets
better with time. And multiple partners." She cackles when she
says the last part.

I'm finally accustomed
to her over the top comments now, and consider the content instead of
the way the line was delivered. "Is that so?"

"For the most
part, yeah."

I lift the sparkly
golden shirt in front of me up. "Turn around," I tell her.
"I need to change."

She makes an annoyed
sound, but does what I say, complaining the whole time about how
she's not a lesbian so what does it matter, and even if she was,
she'd probably be a leg girl, and seeing as how I'm barely past five
feet, I really have nothing to worry about.

I slip the shirt over
my head and pull it past my chest and waist. I've only got three pair
of jeans, and I take care of each as if it's my only. The skinny dark
denim I have on right now gives the illusion that my butt is bigger
than it is, and for some reason that matters to me tonight.

"You can turn
around now," I say. Quickly, I pull down my hair tie and let the
blonde-brown strands fall in soft waves over my shoulders.

"Eeeks!" she
squeals when she sees me. "That gold does wonders for your
coloring." Nat moves closer until she's in front of me. Her
hands fix the hair around my face, pulling a few strands from one
side of my head to the other. When she's done I walk to the vanity
mirror and gaze at my reflection.

Nat's right. The gold
does wonders for my coloring. I look tanner, and the sparkles on the
top give me a glow I've never had before. My hair frames my face,
making my features appear softer, rounder. I look less gaunt.
Healthier.

"Not bad, right?"
she says from behind me.

"Yeah," I
answer softly. I look girly. I feel like it too. I'm not sure if I
should be happy or irritated.

"So who's the
lucky guy?"

I hesitate. I'm not
sure if I should tell her. I don't think she's good at keeping
secrets. I don't know why, but I don't want people to know about Pax
and me. Some part of me feels like I'll be judged, like people might
think I'm not good enough for him. "No one," I finally
answer.

"So you're going
out with a ghost?"

"A muscled,
tanned, ghost," I correct, remembering Pax with his shirt off.
"Not at all like Casper."

"I should stay
here and meet said ghost."

"
You
,"
I point a finger at her, "need to go on that date of yours."

"How do you know I
have a date tonight?"

"It's a Friday
night," I say pointedly. "You always have dates lined up
for the weekend."

"Not all the
time," she replies. "Tonight I'm just hanging with an old
friend. It's not a date. It's more like a booty call," she
winks.

"Well, lucky for
you I'll be gone tonight," I say. Then I make a face. "Please
stay on your side of the room," I remind her. Last week I came
home and there were white crust stains on the floor between our beds.
I didn't have to be a sex expert to know what it was.

"I always do, you
know."

There's a knock on my
door, interrupting my reply.

Nat frowns. "He's
early." She checks her watch. "
Way
early."