The Boss's Virgin, page 16
He wasn’t at the quad or the football field, and he wasn’t in the gym. He wasn’t in the cafeteria either, where I almost bowled over a mousy little freshman. I was about to give up looking and just sit and wait for him somewhere when I saw his familiar wavy hair and godlike physique moving towards me across the commons.
He wasn’t looking at me. In fact, I was certain he didn’t even notice me. There were four others with him, all guys, and they were engaged in a conversation amongst each other. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure whether I wanted to speak to him around his friends. Then, our eyes met.
He did nothing. There was no recognition on his face, no wave or smile or even a flicker of comprehension, almost as if he had seen me long enough to realize there was a human being before being rendered invisible.
I wasn’t having it. I didn’t want him to know how I truly felt about him, of course, especially after the blatant disregard for my existence, so I let my anger take over. Enraged, I barreled over to him and planted myself in front of the entire group, blocking their path.
“I need to talk to you,” I spat. I looked directly at him, but I could see in my peripheral vision that the other guys’ faces moved from startled to confused to amused in rapid succession.
For a split second, I honestly thought Travis wasn’t going to respond. I was sure he was going to ignore me and walk around me. He didn’t, though. Once the astonishment melted from his features, a much more familiar expression took over: cockiness.
“By appointment only, sweetheart,” he said cockily.
His calling me sweetheart would be something I relived later tonight in bed. For now, though, I wasn’t letting him get away with anything, especially if he was showing off in front of his friends.
“It’s about the project. Now.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Travis told his friends, waving them on. They made cracks about his being whipped and a goody-two-shoes before wandering away. When they were out of earshot, he turned to me. “What about the project?”
I squinted at him in disbelief. “You mean, aside from the fact that it needs to get done and I haven’t heard from you at all? You haven’t even told me a time to get together so we can start!”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall getting any emails or phone calls from you, either,” he replied, brushing his fingers through his hair. I almost swooned.
My cheeks turned red at the valid accusation, and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, while I’ve just been sitting around with my thumb up my ass.”
“Don’t be vulgar,” I snapped. “This is serious. It’s the last project of the term, and I want a good grade.”
“Congratulations,” he said sweetly.
I was sure the expression on my face was one of dumbfounded stupidity. I’d been expecting some kind of push-back from him, or even blatant disinterest. Instead, he seemed strangely engaged in the conversation, almost as though he found it humorous and fun. I tried to gather myself and continued. “So, can we start working on it?”
“Sure.”
“Now?”
He eyed my backpack and books and shook his head. “I’m meeting my friends.”
“I think they’ll survive without you.”
“O, ye of too much faith.”
“Cute,” I said sarcastically. “Fine. Tonight?”
“No good,” he replied, shaking his head again. “I’ve got plans.”
“Look, I’m not interested in trying to guess the one hour of your life you don’t have booked for socializing,” I barked. “Just tell me what works for you.”
He sat back on his heels, looking like he was really considering it, then dropped his eyes back to me. “Thursday’s good. Four o’clock.”
“Thursday it is,” I said evenly. “What about after that?”
“Eager for that second date, are you?” he grinned.
My cheeks reddened even more. “It’s going to take more than one day to do everything, you know.”
“We’ll work it out Thursday,” he replied carelessly. He reached forward and lifted my glasses off my face just enough so he could see my eyes. “See you then, four-eyes.”
If I hadn’t been so hyper-focused on the project, I probably wouldn’t have been able to move. As he walked away, however, I whipped around and called to his back, “We’re meeting in the library!”
He twisted around and continued walking backwards. He spread his arms wide and said loudly, “Where else?”
As I walked back to my apartment, my legs felt like noodles, and there were several times I was certain the weight of my books would topple me over face-first. I made it back, though, threw my things on the floor, and flopped onto the couch like a ragdoll.
It was finally happening.
Travis
I hadn’t been able to get Sara out of my mind. The way she’d stormed over to me with fire in those incredible blue eyes kept replaying in my mind. She hadn’t seemed even slightly deterred by the presence of my friends, either. I’d tried to keep my cool and play it off like she didn’t matter to me, but I’d been reeling. She wasn’t just my grudgingly cute childhood rival anymore. She was a sexy spitfire I’d be working with Thursday night.
She’d been a snotty bitch when she’d talked to me. I hadn’t failed to see that. Something about it, though, made me wonder about her. She’d seemed way too emotionally invested in getting together for just a project. I tried to tell myself I was probably projecting my own feelings onto her, but I couldn’t escape the nagging suspicion that her interest was more than just the study of human behavior.
She’d looked phenomenal, too. I’d always found her attractive in a basic, innocent way. She had the features of beauty: a defined, fox-like face, bright blue eyes, and a slender form. Now, though, I’d woken from a hazy sleep and finally saw her for what she truly was. The way her long, thin fingers clutched her books, and the wind-whipped style of her curly hair, and the shapes her small, shapely lips made when she spoke aroused me. She hadn’t been dressed provocatively or suggestively like most of the girls on campus, but her simple gray sweater and jeans had made me salivate.
The fact of the matter was that I was ridiculously horny for Sara McNally, and I didn’t know how to begin getting what I wanted.
I was forced to put thoughts of her out of my mind, though, when Wednesday night rolled around. I was at Cedar Hills Living Center. Nobody knew it, but I visited Cedar Hills every Wednesday after dinner to spend time with the residents and help out where I could. I wasn’t embarrassed about it, but it was very personal to me. My father had lived out his last days at Cedar Hills, and I’d spent some time with the residents there when he’d been asleep or busy with hospice.
One of the women there, an elderly African-American lady with bright silver hair and a walker, was perhaps my favorite to visit. Her name was Barbara, and she’d been at Cedar Hills before my father had even been admitted. Through the years, she’d taught me how to play mahjong, talked me through some of the grief caused by my father’s death, and introduced me to her grown children. We’d become exceptionally close, so it wasn’t unusual that I sought her out this particular Wednesday for advice. I found her in the recreation room with a puzzle scattered on the tabletop in front of her.
“Hey, Barbara,” I greeted her, taking a seat at the table. “Need some help?”
“Yeah,” she grunted. “Find me the corner piece that’s missin’. Barry’s done lost it again.”
“Yer just blind!” Barry called from the couch by the TV. He was a funny guy, tall and lanky with a way of talking that reminded me of a truck driver.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my eyesight!” Barbara shot back. Turning to me, she added in a not-so-quiet voice, “He’s a senile old coot.”
“You didn’t think so when you was trying to get my britches off, didja?” Barry barked. He still didn’t look away from the TV, but I grinned at him anyway. For as long as I could remember, Barbara and Barry had been in the midst of an aggressive flirtation that both denied as vehemently as their dentures would allow.
Barbara rolled her eyes to me and resumed picking through the unmatched puzzle pieces. “Glad you’re here, sugar. Camille’s been busy with the baby, and Jarvis got the flu again. I keep tellin’ that boy to see a doctor, but he ain’t listened to me since he was eight and afraid of the dark.”
“I always enjoy seeing you, Barbara,” I said honestly.
She smiled and picked up a piece, thrusting it into an open spot just to find out it didn’t fit. “So, what’s on your mind?” she asked without looking up.
“What makes you think something’s on my mind?”
She looked up from the puzzle to smile at me with mild amusement. “I heard you check in at the front desk, and you came straight here. You never come to me right away unless something’s wrong.”
“Nothing gets by you, huh?”
“A mother knows all,” she replied, lifting a finger and tapping her temple.
In many ways, Barbara had been like a second mother to me. My mom and I were very close, especially since my dad had passed, but it was a different kind of closeness than what I had with Barbara. Both were very kind, very honest, and good company, but my mother tended not to say something if she thought it would upset me or I wouldn’t be receptive, whereas Barbara said whatever she felt and demanded, just by her presence, that I hear her.
“So?” she prompted again when I didn’t start talking. “What’s goin’ on?”
I sighed and searched for the right words. “Well, you know the anniversary of my dad’s death is Friday”—she nodded—“and how that’s always a rough time for me.”
“You hang onto the past,” she said bluntly.
I shrugged. “Maybe.” She turned her gaze on me and gave me a sharp, piercing look. I stared back at her for a solid second, and then I wavered. “Okay. Yeah, I do.” She nodded one quick nod of approval and brandished a hand, signaling for me to continue. “Anyways, I’m already dealing with my dad’s death right now, and my psych professor assigned a new project. My partner is Sara McNally.”
“The rumor girl?” Even in her old age, Barbara’s memory was on point.
“No, the rumor girl’s friend.”
“So, what’s the problem? You’re an adult. You do the project and get on with your life.”
I pursed my lips slightly, considering carefully whether I should actually speak the words I hadn’t allowed myself to say. Finally, I decided if there was anyone I could tell, it was Barbara. “The problem is that I think I like her. I mean, I want her.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, not another one,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes dramatically to the ceiling.
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Honey,” she said, looking at me and taking my hand in hers. “You been barkin’ up a new tree every week for years now.”
I smiled slightly and shook my head. “Not like this. Sara is basically my enemy.” Barbara stared at me for a moment, and a broad grin split her face. I looked at her in confusion. “What?”
“You like her,” she said gleefully.
“I know. I just said that,” I said, affronted.
“No, I mean you like her. You got feelings for her.”
“I do not.” I groaned. “I just want to be able to say I got my sworn enemy to sleep with me.”
“Nah, I don’t believe that,” Barbara said, shaking her head. “You slept with anybody since you got this project?”
I stared at her, stunned by the honest answer. “No. Wow, that’s weird.”
“It ain’t weird. Maybe you’re tired of sleepin’ with hos,” she said. I burst out laughing at her sheer forwardness, but she took my hand in hers again and leaned across the table to look seriously at me. “There comes a time in every boy’s life when he realizes sex ain’t nearly as important as the other things. Some men don’t realize it ‘til they on their deathbeds. Maybe you one of the smart ones.”
“I never said I was interested in her ‘other things,’ Barbara,” I said good-naturedly.
She smirked just the slightest bit and patted my hand. “You didn’t have to.”
***
At four o’clock on Thursday, I walked into the library and spotted Sara sitting at one of the pressed wood tables. As I approached her from behind, my conversation with Barbara ran through my mind on loop. My intention was to take the seat opposite Sara, but I heard Barbara’s voice in my inner ear, and without realizing it, I pulled out the chair beside her instead. She looked up at me, surprised, but said nothing.
When I’d pulled out my psych notes and settled into my chair, Sara said, “I thought we should start with reading the requirements first, just to make sure we cover all our bases.”
“That’s fine,” I replied.
We fell silent, and I stared at the requirements sheet without digesting any of the words. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that Sara was sitting unnaturally still, but I tried to focus on the paper in front of me. I could smell something delicious, like baked goods and flowers, and when Sara shifted, I realized it was her. My stomach actually churned a bit with hunger at the scent. I licked my lips and refocused my eyes, trying to get through the first sentence on Sorenson’s project.
I felt Sara’s gaze on the side of my head. I don’t know how I felt something as intangible as a gaze, but I did. My cheek felt warm with her stare, and my eyes found it that much harder not to swing over to her. Finally, I gave in and turned my head. She immediately started to look away, but, before she could, I moved. I didn’t mean to do it—it just happened. I kissed her.
Sara
The kiss surprised me, and I almost pulled back out of sheer shock. Thankfully, I didn’t. I let his mouth land on mine, and I savored the way his lips waded in the sea of passion with both caution and bold need. He tasted of warmth and comfort with a hint of pretentious sophistication. If I could have, I would’ve drunk him in like water.
When the kiss broke, he didn’t pull back right away, and we stared into each other’s eyes. It was almost like a movie scene, and if this had been Hollywood, we would have stared for a couple seconds longer before we ripped our clothes off, climbed on top of the table, and made hard, intense love like a pair of rabbits. What actually happened, though, was my cheeks turned a brilliant shade of crimson, and I felt a flood of embarrassment crash over me.
I hadn’t intended for him to notice my looking at him. In fact, I hadn’t really been looking at him at all, at least not in the way one usually looks at another person. I’d been trying to figure him out. He’d seemed weird since he’d walked in the library, especially in that he’d chosen to sit next to me instead of across from me. He’d been strangely quiet, too, which was rather unnerving because he was normally so robust and intrusive with his outgoingness.
When I’d suggested we look over the requirements another time before properly getting started, I’d realized the date. It was around the time of the year his dad had died. It was even possible that today was the day that marked the awful anniversary. I wasn’t sure. What I did know for certain was that Travis always changed this time of year. Throughout the many winters of my seemingly endless crush, I’d watched him become aloof and brooding towards everyone from teachers to friends—and definitely to me. He was normally front and center of the social scene, but he’d fade into the sidelines like an annual hibernation and not resurface until after the holidays.
I’d looked at him sitting next to me, his eyes fixated and unmoving on the piece of paper in front of him, and wondered what he needed. I knew better than to say anything. The only time he’d ever become aggressive with me had been in fourth grade, almost exactly ten years ago, when he’d been skulking around the playground and I’d asked him outright if he was sad about his dad. I hadn’t meant it as a jab or a tease, but he’d become angry at once. He’d leapt forward and shoved me with all his might, sending me flying back onto the woodchip-covered ground. Then, he’d jumped on top of me and slapped me across the face. Being the feisty thing I was, I’d rolled him off me and tackled him, and I would have started punching if a couple teacher’s aides hadn’t hurried over and pulled us apart. We’d both ended up in the principal’s office that day, and I’d learned why we use our words, not our hands, and never to ask about Travis’s dad again.
My mind was reeling from the kiss, and I could feel my lips tingling. I wondered if that was from the surprise of it or something else. Maybe our chemistry was simply that strong. He finally sat back, but I didn’t move. I just sat there, leaning in slightly with what I knew would be wickedly red cheeks and wide, astonished eyes. He watched me with something like concern for a moment, but I couldn’t process anything. I certainly wasn’t able to form a single word.
I was still in such a state of shock I barely noticed him getting to his feet. I didn’t realize he’d actually left with his things until what felt like hours later—though it was actually only minutes. I blinked several times, finally, and straightened up in my seat.
Travis Wilkes had kissed me.
I let the thought caress my mind, and it sent shivers of thrill through every nerve in my body. The very thing I had hoped would happen when working on this project with him had happened, and all I’d been able to do was stare stupidly. As I realized I was alone, that he’d departed after I hadn't responded, my face flushed such a severe shade of scarlet I could actually feel heat emanating from my cheeks, causing the air around me to feel chilly.
Travis Wilkes had kissed me, and I’d behaved like an idiot. This was worse than I had ever imagined.
I didn’t just have a crush on Travis. If that’s all it was, I probably would have kissed him back eagerly or at least had something to say. I may have even invited him back to my apartment to satisfy the desires that had flitted through my mind over the years. This kiss revealed to me something I never would have expected.
