California Dreamin' Pt. 01

All characters are over the age of 18.

This one has a bit of something for everyone. First time, college, coming-of-age, straight sex. Later chapters will introduce bisexual and group/poly action, a transgender character and some cross-dressing, alcohol and some light experimentation with drugs. If any of that isn't your cup of tea, you might want to skip this one.

I expect at least 6 or 7 chapters, but could go longer depending on how y'all like it. This first chapter is a bit vanilla and will have a slow build to properly set the scene.

Where do I even start?

As Ms. Parker from sophomore creative writing taught us, starting at the beginning is the way to go. Not too wordy, she'd say, but just enough to hook them in the first page. I could put on paper what I'm doing right now and get a probably one-season Netflix series, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Okay, the beginning, kinda. My name is Jack Thornton. Good, masculine name, right? My dad, Jack Thornton senior must have thought so. Thank god he never called me junior or any other related bullshit, just Jack. His name is actually John, which I was surprised to learn could get 'shortened' to Jack. What the hell is that about? Not shorter, hello...

Yeah, I know, already getting off track. My dad was as much of a man's man as you could imagine. Tough, but loving in a gruff sort of way when he needed to be, usually one of the smarter guys in the room without the need to announce it or get in a pissing match. Always had the right answer if you took the time to ask. A kind of gentle giant that epitomized the opposite of the toxic masculinity playing out on any number of social media platforms when I was in my formative years.

I always worried about disappointing him, not living up to the obviously high standard to which he'd comported himself all of his... shit, how old is he? I don't even remember the year my dad was born. Seventies I think? How is that even possible, the seventies were a bizarre time after Vietnam and the gas crisis and all the... and, I'm off track again.

Get it together. Alright. Jack Thornton the second, junior, whatever. Me. I always had the feeling I wasn't the picture my parents had in their minds of their first and only son. I was born just before cell phones and Facebook and Instagram. But by the time I knew anything, they were ingrained in everything. How could anyone grow up 'normal' in that kind of environment?

I was always the kid that played it safe, that didn't take risks. I saw my friends do stupid things and go down in flames nine times out of ten. Putting yourself out there always seemed like such a gamble, a game not really worth playing.

I knew that everyone was dealt a different poker hand. Somehow I wasn't blessed with my father's confidence or ability to walk into any situation and seem like I knew what I was talking about. I did alright in school though, even managed a high three-point-something GPA.

By the time I was sixteen, I realized I also hadn't inherited many of my dad's genes. He was 6'2", I was 5'8". He had broad shoulders and muscles everywhere. I got my mom's good hair, but her waifish physique as well. I'd been told by a couple of girls I was good-looking in a k-pop boy band sort of way, which I took to mean a bit feminine and well-dressed. I guess I was both of those things. Whatever. Use what you've got.

I swam on the school team and managed to bulk up a little, but only enough that I didn't look unhealthy. Swimming was the one thing I managed to succeed at, my slight build and naturally nearly-hairless body gave me an advantage that I used as best I could. I even won a regional gold medal at the end of my junior year.

That one win gave me an incredible confidence boost, something I'd never felt before. Alongside one of my best friends getting a girlfriend that was way out of his league, I vowed to enter my senior year a new man, reinvented. Suave, confident. For the most part, I felt like I pulled it off for a few months. Fall and winter holidays passed and I had made more friends, got invited to a few parties, and worked up the nerve to ask a girl I was crushing on to senior prom. She even said yes. That was the spring of 2020. Then...

FUCKING. COVID.

My mom has an autoimmune disorder that normally isn't much of a problem, but for our family made quarantine a very real and serious thing. I put my university plans on hold, and instead virtually attended the local community college. By spring of 2022 when things began to get back to normal-ish, I had an associate's business degree and what felt like the worst case of cabin fever ever.

Being home, insulated and alone for two years sent me right back into my comfortable, introverted shell. It's like a habit you're trying to break but don't really want to. Going to my community college graduation ceremony though, again full of people and laughter and happiness... it rekindled my resolve to start living, to start putting myself 'out there', whatever that meant.

Seeing the COVID impacts in the rearview mirror, I brought up the idea of going away to college again. June was late to start classes in the fall, but I got on like ten provisional admissions lists and was eager to go literally anywhere else. By late summer, I had three spots to choose from.

Much to my parents' displeasure, I chose a liberal arts college out west. I could read the objections in their facial expressions... "They don't have the same values in California, it's going to be so different and uncomfortable for you, what are you even going to study at a place like that?" They were of course, absolutely right. But I wanted to stretch myself, meet people who thought differently, and maybe get through a winter without dealing with Michigan snow and ice and freezing bullshit.

They were dumbfounded when I said I didn't want them to take me, that I could handle the trip by myself. Mom even got out of me that I didn't yet have a place to live, owing to the last-minute admission. She glanced at me like a complete stranger when I said "I'll just find something when I get there." If she had pearls, she would have clutched them.

Okay, getting closer to the interesting part of my story.

So, on a sunny Saturday in early September, my parents drove me to the airport. I had a suitcase packed with every warm-weather piece of clothing I owned. It wasn't a lot. With a few tears from mom and a bear hug from my dad, I stood on the curb and watched them drive off. It was surreal, knowing I wouldn't see them for months, and that I was flying off to someplace without even knowing where I was going to sleep that night. I felt like I was microdosing adrenaline as I walked into the airport. The flight was uneventful, which was fine with me.

I stepped out of the terminal at LAX and grinned like an idiot. The warm coastal breeze ruffled my hair, and the palm trees lining the street immediately transported me to vacation, even though I was here to live and study. To exist.

"This is gonna be alright," I said aloud to myself, still smiling. Finding the taxi line, I waited for my turn. The driver knew the college, and we were quickly off and weaving through traffic.

My single suitcase and backpack in tow, I made my way toward the student union. Having studied the campus brochure and map obsessively over the last few days, I knew right where I was going. The place looked just like the brochure, even the happy young adults playing frisbee in the quad to the soundtrack of someone strumming a guitar.

I was the only person I could see wearing pants, which I noted would change at my earliest opportunity. Two higher priority goals dominated my thoughts, food and shelter. Food first. I scarfed a sandwich from one of the stalls in the student union, then set out to find the housing office. The labyrinthine basement of the building got me turned around a few times and I ended up back-tracking twice past the same cork bulletin board. A handwritten flyer caught my eye, pink and orange sharpie all over it and half consumed tear-off phone numbers. I chuckled out loud that someone in 2022 would use physical paper to advertise something.

"Roommate wanted. Great location, nice place. $700/mo includes utilities. Must be open minded, up for fun, and maybe more. Call Sloane."

I did some quick mental math and realized that if I could cook some of my own meals, that this would be cheaper than a dorm room by quite a bit. What if it's way off campus? And is Sloane a guy or a girl? What the hell is 'maybe more'? I exhaled deeply and tore off the phone number. It's probably already rented anyway, half the paper is gone. I stared back and forth down the hallway to the housing office, and at the scrap in my hand. Remember why you're here, just do it.

Back outside, I dialed the number. A girl answered, "Hey."

"Hi, is this Sloane?"

"Yup. What's your name, hun?"

"I'm Jack."

"Well hi there, Jack. Are you calling about the futon, or the roommate?"

"The roommate," I said, chuckling. "I just got here and need a place to stay."

"My sign..." she giggled back. "I didn't think anyone would actually see it down there."

"Do you still have the room?" I asked. "I saw I wasn't the first one."

"Sure do, the other people were, well..."

"Oh, do you have some kind of criteria or something?"

"Don't we all?" Sloane said seriously. "I just gotta get your vibe, you know? See if we'd be able to live under the same roof. Are you a serial killer or anything?"

"Definitely not."

"Okay, well first test passed. Do you wanna come see the place?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. I literally just got off the plane and have my suitcase with me. Would the room be available today?"

"Somebody's getting ahead of themselves," she laughed. "If I think you're alright, you could stay tonight, yeah.h."

I could almost hear her smile through the phone. "Awesome. Well, I'm at the school. Is it far?"

"Not too bad, but I wouldn't want to drag a suitcase here."

"Ok. Shoot me your address and I'll get a Lyft or something."

"I'm not doing anything at the moment, could I give you a ride?"

"Really? That'd be amazing. I'm right out in front of the student union."

"I'll be there in ten. Send me selfie so I know what you look like."

"Will do."

I ended the call and flipped my phone around. I don't know why, but I flashed a peace sign to the camera and smiled with my teeth, which I almost never did. She responded with a smiley.

I spent the next few minutes carefully studying everyone that walked by, wondering if any of them were her, scoping me out anonymously before committing. The girls here really are prettier here. Immediately I recalled my parents listening to California Girls in the car. Just like silently rating the people boarding the airplane that may or may not sit in the empty seat next to you, I played roommate lottery in my head. One girl I would have rated an eight gave me a longer than normal look as she walked by, but didn't stop.

On the ten minute mark, a white Tesla pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the road. What I could see of the driver through the tinted window, she appeared to be her checking her phone, then looking directly at me. After what seemed longer than was probably real, the door opened.

I watched in awe as this girl got out of the car, desperately hoping it was her. Maybe-Sloane wore short cutoffs and a tank top, and her straight blonde hair was held back by the sunglasses on her forehead. Her golden skin seemed to radiate the sunlight as opposed to the reflection from my pale whiteness. Only just shorter than me I guessed, maybe 5'7" and 120 pounds. Her body was a textbook perfect hourglass, right smack between bombshell and runway model.

She was the very image of a California Girl, and my previously sheltered psyche took my brain in all sorts of titilating directions. The other part of me quickly shut those down, helpfully suggesting that hitting on my possible future roommate wasn't a good idea. All of this in the span of time it took her to walk across the street.

"Hiya Jack," she said warmly, stepping up the curb and immediately invading my space. She hugged me, my arms awkwardly at my sides while her barely-covered breasts flattened against my chest. She pulled away and planted a kiss on each of my cheeks.

"European greeting, I like it." No idea where that came from. I knew without a doubt that my cheeks were beginning to glow bright red. I could still feel the heat from where her lips had touched.

Sloane laughed. "Well aren't you cute?" She stepped back and sized me up.

I tried my best not to openly stare at her, despite her doing the same to me. "Thanks for coming to get me," I said dumbly. "That's you, right?" I nodded toward the car she'd obviously just gotten out of.

"Yup! If you're ready, let's go. I'm guessing you'll want to change out of those right away." She pointed at my covered legs.

It had to be eighty-five out. "Yeah."

Sloane grabbed my suitcase and headed back across the street. I failed at not gawking at her backside as she strutted across the pavement and waved to an oncoming car that gladly stopped for us. We got in and zipped away. The acceleration and near silence was a new experience as I'd never ridden in a car that didn't burn dinosaurs.

We made pleasant small talk for the short drive as she wove us in the direction I thought was roughly toward the ocean. I mentally noted that this was easily the least awkward I'd ever been with a girl, alone, and especially one that was an absolute dime. She glanced at me often as she drove, even putting her hand on my chest when we had to stop quickly for a red light.

I could feel myself getting more and more jazzed about my situation as we got closer. Not just because she was gorgeous and probably going to be cohabitating with me, but she was funny, and kind, and we just seemed to click. I'd never met another person that did that. Not my friends, not my parents, nobody. I subconsciously knew it was me... I was the one that needed to warm up to people, not the other way around. Maybe this is the new me, I thought, I'm really doing it...

The Pacific Ocean flashed it's blue glint between a few buildings as we turned again. I grinned involuntarily, having only seen it one other time about ten years before. I started noticing the real estate around us rise in height and value as we got further west.

When Sloane turned into a driveway not two blocks from what I now saw was a boardwalk-lined beach, my jaw hung open. The house, and those in a row on either side, were narrow, but deep, and four stories tall. A glass railing on the flat roof suggested some kind of viewing area up top. The matching homes were tastefully modern, large windows and white stucco. Each of the rooms facing the beach had a small patio with matching glass railings. The third floor deck cantilevered out further than the others, and housed a grill and patio furniture.

I was still gawking through the windshield when Sloane tapped on the passenger window. "It's the small button at the top of the armrest," she pointed.

I let myself out and continued to stare at what I guessed was many millions of dollars worth of house. "You... live here?" I finally got out.

"It suits my needs," she said pretentiously before giggling. "Come on in, I'll show you around."

We walked through a side door into an entry room. A hallway to the first floor suite lead off in one direction, a kitchenette and stairs the other.

"That's your room," she said, nodding down the hallway. "You could come and go without having to walk through the rest of the house. Lotsa stairs. Plus you can use the little kitchen if you want. I tend to stink up the main one pretty bad sometimes. I'm a horrible cook."

"Wait, so like... I can stay?"

"Don't you want to? It felt like we got along alright, and I'm assuming you're okay with the rent? I could probably knock it down a few hundred if you need."

The emotional wave hit me fast and I wasn't prepared. Less than twelve hours ago I was leaving home for the first time, heading to a new city without a place to stay, and if I was lucky, shacked up in a cramped dorm room with a guy or two I'd probably end up hating. The absurdity of my current situation almost didn't make any sense. My eyes began to pool and I lunged forward, dropping my backpack in the process as I hugged her.

"Thank you," I said, trying to force my chest to stay still, "thank you so much. The rent is great," I sniffed. I pulled away and forced what I hoped was a genuine smile.

Sloane grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs. "Come on then, I'll show you the rest."

The second floor housed a rec room of sorts with a pool table, ping pong, and a few stand-up arcade games. A large laundry room stocked with supplies separated the rec room from another bedroom at the rear. The next floor was the main living area and kitchen. I kept slowly panning around the space, dumbstruck. The finishes and furnishings were all top of the line. A six burner cooktop sat in a Carrera marble island probably twenty feet long. I wandered aimlessly around, taking in the opulence of the place I didn't know I was going to be living in an hour ago. We strolled out onto the large balcony. The view was probably half the value of the house. While the lot wasn't beachfront, it was only two short blocks back from the boardwalk - and had an unobstructed view.

I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes, just letting the sunlight soak in and the sea air wash over me.

"You look like you're gonna be alright here..." said Sloane, sidling up next to me.

We both gazed out toward the water. Families and sunbathers dotted the sand and the low noise of traffic slowly creeping down the frontage road was muted from our height.

I sighed heavily. "Yeah, I think so." I let my brain finally overcome the dissonance of the last span of minutes and think. Something wasn't adding up. "You, uh... go to the college?" She nodded offhandedly. "And you live here. And can like, way undercharge on rent."

"You can just come out and ask me..." she said with a lopsided grin.

I shook my head, mostly at me. "How the hell can you afford this, and tuition, and a Tesla, and..." My mouth finally caught up with my brain and stopped talking.

Sloan waited for me to trail off. "My parents are stupid rich. They're mostly-horrible people, and bought me this house when I said I wanted to come here for college. They pay my bills and keep me comfortable and happy, and I leave them alone and don't visit."

"Oh... jeez, I'm sorry." I felt the urge to grab her hand, but felt my inner introvert pulling it back.

"It's okay, it worked out alright. I love it here, the college is great, and when I'm done I still have this."

I nodded back.

"Ok, now it's my turn for personal questions."

"I guess that's fair," I said.

"So you show up two days before classes start and just assume you'll find some place to crash. What's your deal?"

I desperately wanted to say something like that's just how I roll, babe, or I take life as it comes at me. But of course I didn't. I told her my whole sad story. The skinny swimmer kid that never took any risks or had any fun until he got mildly good at something, then had it all ruined by a microscopic virus. I watched her beautiful face change as I told the story. Excitement when I won my medal, pity when my senior prom with a pretty girl got canceled. She took my hands and squeezed them. Mine started to sweat immediately.