Rock Me Hard (The Rock Star's Seduction 1)

But things got worse when I went to college. I stayed in-state at UGA, while Kevin went to Syracuse University. Syracuse was both of our first choices, but only he got in. I planned to try to transfer for my Sophomore year, but in the meantime, he was in New York, and I was stuck in Athens, Georgia.

The distance made him extremely paranoid. It was partly my fault; early on, I told him about some of the raunchier, alcohol-fueled shenanigans of my roommate, a crazy chick named Shanna Williams from California. About how she went to clubs and parties every night, and usually slept with a new guy every week. About how I would wake up at 2AM hearing the creaking springs in Shanna’s bed, and her whispering drunkenly, “Shhhh, you’ll wake up my roommate.” About the weirdness the morning after, when I had some naked stranger in my room.

“It was sooo awkward – and I didn’t even sleep with him!” I laughed when I told Kevin.

Hoo boy. Wrooooong thing to say.

After the second time, I learned to keep my mouth shut about Shanna’s sexcapades.

It wasn’t like he never saw me. We called or Skyped all the time. We saw each other every four or five weeks. Either he would drive the 15-hour trip down, or occasionally I would go up to stay with him, or we’d rendezvous in the middle at some crappy little hotel in the middle when he couldn’t stand being away from me any longer. Or, if truth be told, when I couldn’t stand the whininess anymore.

And then the break-ups started.

All of them were initiated by him.

I was distraught over the first one. Wrecked. I cried for two days straight. It lasted a week, and then he called and begged me to take him back, said that he couldn’t live without me. I was elated.

Four weeks later we broke up again, then got back together over Christmas break. I wasn’t so elated this time.

Especially when it happened again in February.

Why didn’t I break up with him completely?

Because I was young and stupid.

Because I loved him. Or, if it wasn’t really love, because I still cared for him. A lot.

Because I’d lost my virginity to him.

Because he was the only boy I’d ever been with.

Because in March my application to transfer to Syracuse was accepted. I figured if I’d made it that far, I could hold out for another couple of months.

But every month and a half, another damn breakup. And when we weren’t broken up, it was the endless, whining, insecure phone calls…

It got so bad that every time his ringtone played – ‘Goin’ To The Chapel,’ by the way; he put it on there, NOT me – my whole body would tighten up, and I would think about not answering it.

But I always did.

It’ll get better, I told myself. When we’re together at Syracuse, it’ll be so much better.

There were only two weeks left, and then we would spend all of college together.

During World War II, soldiers had to go off to war and leave their girlfriends and wives behind for years, I reasoned. This is just a test of our love, that’s all.

On the other hand, those girlfriends and wives never had to deal with freaked-out phone calls and Skype sessions obsessing over whether they were cheating or not.

Truth was, I envied my roommate Shanna. She didn’t have a clingy boyfriend. Hell, she didn’t have a boyfriend at all. She slept with whomever she wanted, and she didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought.

Well, actually, she learned to give a damn what I thought. After the fourth late-night hookup, I pitched a fit. So we worked out a compromise: no more overnight stays. One night a week she could bring somebody over, and I would go crash in a sofa chair in the community study room till they were through. But the rest of the time, she had to go to his place or screw him in the bushes or an alley or something. No exceptions.

She kept to her end of the deal. In fact, as I was sitting there trying to concentrate on my boring-ass homework, I realized that she hadn’t brought anybody home in a couple of weeks.

Speak of the Devil, and she shall appear.

6

I heard the key fumble and scrape noisily across the lock. It was the sound I called ‘the Drunk Doorbell’ – a sure sign that Shanna was blasted.

It was usually accompanied by ‘the Drunk Disclaimer.’

“Shhhh,” she giggled out in the hallway. “We gotta be quiet cuz I got a roommate…”

Ah, there it was.

“I’m awake,” I called out. “You don’t have to be quiet.”

The lock clicked and the door crashed open, and Shanna stumbled into the room. “Oh, thas’ good…”

I turned around from my desk to look at her. She was cute – not gorgeous, but she had a great smile and knew how to work a push-up bra. And she was very outgoing. I’d had a lot of practice in fending off guys – most of them assholes, some of them charming – but I never, ever flirted with anybody. Shanna didn’t just flirt, she manhandled.