The Junior (College Years 3)

“Gracie.” I lean across the table, staring into her eyes. I wish I could figure out what color they are exactly. Right now, they burn a bright golden brown. “You talk about him as if he already exists. I made that guy up.”

“I know you did,” she says. “But you make it sound so awful, when it’s really not, Caleb. Steadiness can be a good thing.”

“Or a boring thing. And you’re anything but boring, G.”

We’re quiet as we continue eating, and I can tell she’s thinking about something. The server stops by with her fresh margarita and she grabs for it eagerly, taking a healthy sip. She finishes one taco then starts on another one. I polish everything on my plate, not a crumb left behind.

Still, she doesn’t speak. Neither do I.

I’m waiting her out. Plus, I’m tired. With food in my belly, I’m ready to go home, take a shower, and crash.

“You really think I’m anything but boring?” she finally asks, her voice soft, her eyes not blazing as brightly as they were only a moment before.

I realize this could be the moment of no return. A shift in our relationship. I could say the right thing, and next thing you know, she’s all over me. It would be so easy. We’d go at it, and I’d give her an epic orgasm. She’d probably make me come hard too. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a chick. Longer than usual for me. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to go find a random to mess around with.

Plus, the idea of that isn’t appealing, which is scary and weird, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now.

“I definitely think that,” I say, keeping it simple. I could’ve added some flowery words or a crude innuendo. Instead, I treat her like a friend. I give her respect.

Something I can admit, I’ve lacked when it comes to females.

Her smile is small, yet brilliant. Stunning. She is beautiful. A little crazy, let’s be real. Constantly chasing after guys. Chasing after everything she wants. I like that about her. She’s bold. Unafraid.

“Every time I think you’re completely hopeless, you go and say something sweet or endearing, and you make me change my mind,” she murmurs.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I think you have potential, Caleb,” she says, that smile still on her face. “You can be so much more.”

“More than what?”

“More than you give yourself credit for.”

Six

Gracie

I’m drunk.

Not falling down sloppy drunk. And not seeing double, unfocused drunk either. Though, would it be such a bad thing, seeing double of Caleb? No, that wouldn’t suck. It wouldn’t suck at all. He’s so pretty.

But I am buzzing pretty hard. I feel loose. As in loose in my limbs, my muscles. My tongue. I want to say things. I want to tell Caleb I think he’s pretty. Would he be offended? Probably. Boys don’t want to be called pretty. They’re too manly for such a feminine word.

We’re still at the restaurant, our plates long gone, a half-full basket of chips in between us, Caleb still dunking the occasional one in salsa and munching on it. Like a bad habit he can’t quit.

Hmm, that’s an interesting analogy. I should think of Caleb like that. He’s a bad habit I can’t quit. I don’t want to quit him. Arguing with him is stimulating. He gets my juices flowing, and I like it. I like him.

I frown. No, I don’t like him. I don’t. He’s annoying. He’s also a complete player who couldn’t be serious with a woman even if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to be. I bet he’d mess it up somehow and bam, he’d be dead.

God, my thoughts are morbid when I’ve had a little too much to drink. I need to stop. I need to go to bed and wake up sober. Banish these Caleb-filled thoughts of mine.

“I’m tired,” he says as he polishes off his third giant glass of iced tea. “You ready to leave?”

I slurp up the dregs of my margarita, longing for another one. Knowing I can’t have anymore or else I’ll be full-blown drunk. Sloppy. Unfocused.

“Sure,” I say with a small hiccup, blinking him back into focus. No double Calebs in front of me. Such a bummer. He’s so cute. And hot. Look at his shoulders. At his arms. At his broad chest and square jaw and thick hair and blue eyes with the long, thick lashes.

What is wrong with me? I get some tequila in my system and suddenly I’m hot for Caleb?