Roughing

When class ends, we hand in our tests and rush out the door. Propelled by the energy flowing through my body, I drag Bash toward the SAC. I keep my mouth shut until we get out of earshot from onlookers, who are no doubt already starting up the rumor mill.

“I’m going to murder you!” I yell, garnering a few stares from people passing by us on the street, which forces me to walk faster and with more of a purpose. “What was that all about?”

Pushing past the groups of students making their way to class, Bash reaches for my hand. As he laces his fingers between mine, I fight the urge to scold him further. But I like touching him too much to deprive myself of his warmth.

“Stop freaking out. I wanted to touch you. So I did.” He leans over me and says, “And if I had my way, I would have shoved my fingers inside your tight pussy and made you come for me.”

“Bash,” I say, unable to finish my sentence. “Keep talking like that, and we won’t make it to breakfast.”

“I’d be more than okay with that.” He winks.

“While that is tempting, I think we should get something to eat and try to make it through the day without any more incidents,” I say with an evil grin.

He knows I’m joking, but I am dead serious about him doing shit like that in the middle of class. No matter how good it had felt, I cannot run the risk of getting caught. Unlike Bash and his cronies, I need this scholarship. I don’t have a rich daddy to bail me out if I get in trouble.

Once we reach the SAC, he opens the door for me. Our eyes meet, and he sucks in a deep breath, neither one of us pulling away from the other. He was planning to finger me in class. We were holding hands in the middle of campus. What the hell is happening? The looks I got from girls on our way here could have set me on fire. I wish someone would pinch me again because I need another reminder that this is real.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” It sounds more like a demand than a request.

“Okay,” I mumble. “Are we eating at my place again or going somewhere fancy?”

Bash leads me by the hand through the front doors of the SAC. The bustling hub of our campus buzzes with energy, a steady stream of voices echoing off the high ceiling.

“I was thinking somewhere nice. Do you have any dresses you could wear? It’s pretty formal. My dad called in a favor for me. This restaurant has a three-week waiting list, and we have reservations tonight.”

My brain races with so many thoughts, my emotions overwhelming me. “Yeah, I think I have a dress from last year in my closet. If not, I can borrow one from Jessica. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can have one sent over to you.” He says this as though this is a normal thing to say to a girl when asking them out on a date.

Growing up in a middle-class neighborhood with a father who worked at a steel mill, I never had the kind of luxuries Bash is accustomed. Accepting a hand out from Bash seems wrong.

“That’s not necessary, Bash.” I smile so wide my jaw hurts. “I appreciate the gesture, but a dress is a bit much for our first date.”

“It’s not our first date,” he reminds me. “More like our hundredth date.”

Bash lets go of my hand and walk up the stairs, a wry smile on his gorgeous face. I follow behind him.

“You might want to double check,” he says, once we reach the top landing. “Just in case. I don’t mind doing these things for you. I want the night to be perfect.”

I don’t even know how to respond, so I don’t.

Bash stops at the entrance of the cafeteria. His nose tips up to the ceiling, taking in the delicious scents wafting through the air. “I’m starving. What do you want?”

I shrug. “Whatever.”

“No more chicken fingers,” he kids.

“I doubt they have them for breakfast anyway,” I shoot back with a smile.

I spot Jessica flagging me down from the left corner of the room with her hand raised in the air that I acknowledge with a wave.

Bash taps me on the shoulder. “What do you want to eat? I’ll get it for you.”

“How about eggs and toast? Maybe some apple juice. Don’t forget the butter and grape jelly.”

“Coming right up,” he says, guiding me in the direction of our friends.

Then, we separate, both of us headed in opposite directions.