Dreaded Days

"Dr. Kroft?"

"Professor Ezra Kroft, Ph.D., from Econ 3102. See, he called in sick today and his grad assistant had an exam so we didn't have class. I went back to the dorm to do some studying and to get ready for our date, but when I unlocked the door to our room, I saw Bill's naked ass as he dived off the bed for his clothes and saw Samantha, my roommate, stark naked in bed trying to keep him on top of her. Evidently, she hadn't quite gotten off yet."

"Oww, that's horrible. I'm so sorry," I said, wondering why he'd do such a thing to Cassie.

"Samantha is beautiful, she's sexy, and she's a fucking flirt. I'd seen her before when Bill would come over, but he agreed with me about her. I just didn't realize he'd be willing to take her up on her implied offer considering what I thought we had. Today, with Samantha still naked in bed, she parted her legs where I could see what they'd been up to and she looked at me and said, 'Happy Valentine's Day,' before telling him to come back to bed."

"God, what a bitch."

"I knew she didn't have much of a moral center but I thought she was my friend and didn't dream that she'd pull something like that on me. Still, it was Bill that was a much bigger disappointment, caught red-handed—"

"Or bare-assed, you mean," I said, trying to keep from chuckling at the thought.

"—yeah, or that. He ran out with me yelling at him that I never wanted to see him again. Then he showed up in the student center a couple of hours later. That's where I usually study, so it wasn't like he had a hard time finding me."

"Wow, I'm so sorry, Cassie. That makes my V-Day woes seem pale in comparison. My girl dumped me on Valentine's weekend last year, but at least she had the courtesy to do it without cheating."

"I'm sorry, but that's good she did it the right way. If he'd told me that he wanted to break up, I'd have been hurt, of course, and would have wanted to talk with him about why, but I wouldn't hate the fucking bastard like I do right now."

She saw me wince slightly at her understandable venom, and she waved her hands as she looked down and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm usually a nice person and wouldn't want to hurt a fly, but Grant, this really hurts. He dumped almost two and a half years down the drain on Valentine's Day, though I suspect that if I hadn't caught them, they'd have kept it up without me being any the wiser with Bill professing his love just like he tried to do in the student center even while I couldn't get the image of his bare ass and flying wang when he jumped for his clothes out of my mind."

Determined not to laugh, I coughed at the visual she'd painted before draining the last of my milkshake. Then I reached out and patted her hand. "I'm so sorry, Cassie, but don't let it change you. You seem like a good person. Rebuild and move forward with your life, okay? That's what I've done after Vickie."

She nodded. "That sounds like a good plan, even if I do end up hating Bill, and Valentine's Day, for at least a few days."

On hearing her words, I glanced down at my shirt and had a thought on the way I could help her. "Tell you what, if you can wait here for a few minutes, I'll run across to my building and put on another t-shirt so you can have this one. Okay?"

She looked at me for a few seconds before shaking her head and placing her palm on the shirt over my heart. "I'll tell you what: I'll go up to your room with you so you can put on another one so you can give me this one. Deal?"

It felt like the temperature in the room had jumped, with her hand still on my chest, rising and falling with my suddenly labored breath. This wasn't what I meant, and it wasn't something I even wanted.

Or at least, I told myself, hadn't been wanting to that point.

"Grant? Deal?" she repeated, leading me to nod ever so slightly, still debating the idea.

We tossed our trash and put our tray with the glasses and spoons on the conveyor before she took my hand and walked out of the grill with me. I was walking slowly, trying to concentrate and wondering if I was just imagining what I thought we were suddenly feeling between us. Cassie was so attractive, but she was hurting and I didn't want to take advantage of her. But....

Still holding hands, we reached my building and then started up the stairs with Cassie leading the way. I hated it when my fingers slipped from her grip as we went up single file, but I greatly enjoyed watching the movement of her jeans just in front of me at roughly eye level. It only took one flight before I decided that Bill, Cassie's ex, was a complete idiot no matter how hot Cassie's backstabbing roomie was.

"Third floor," I said as we climbed, "and then left. Room 323."

"Thank you," she replied, looking back at me with a smile. When she did, I could only hope that she didn't notice the strained profile in my pants.

We were in front of my door just moments later and I was careful to stand so that Cassie couldn't see my unintentional salute. I accidentally dropped the keys once—okay, not so accidental, since it allowed me to shift myself slightly while bending down to retrieve them—and then I opened the door and flipped on the light to allow Cassie to enter first.

"Ahh, a single. If I'd gone that route this year rather than rooming with someone I thought was my friend, I might never have known...."

Standing in front of her, I took her hands and looked into her dark brown eyes. So sad and so expressive, I knew then that I had to be a friend to help her get through her dark time rather than someone to take advantage of her plight. Therefore, with my mind made up, I tried to reach her, to give her encouragement and help her see the good side, if there was one.

"Cassie, if Bill was going to betray your trust, you'd have discovered it sooner or later. If later, it might have even hurt worse, so maybe it was good to find out now so you can move on. Make sense?"

She nodded silently and turned away, looking at my posters on the wall as I opened a drawer and fished out a shirt. Seeing her thoughtful expression as she looked at each in turn, I was glad I hadn't decked my room out like some of the guys on the hall, with assorted beautiful women with vacuous expressions in various stages of undress. I think I saw a hint of amusement when she saw my Star Wars movie poster next to one from Casablanca.

I hated to lose my V-Day shirt, but maybe it would help Cassie, so I turned my back to her and stripped it off before starting to put on the clean one.

However, I didn't get the new shirt on.

Cassie's hands slipped around me from behind, just above my waist, and she laid her head on my shoulder.

"Grant, it's Valentine's Day. Do you think we could share some...time...together?"

All I could think of on the way to my room was exactly what she was now asking, but looking into her eyes when we'd arrived and seeing their pain, I knew that I didn't want to take advantage of her. She was hurting, and while sex might act as a temporary salve for her wounded heart, it could also be seen as revenge on at least one of those who'd hurt her and might make things worse in the long run.

"Cassie, no," I said as I turned and took her in my arms, "please don't. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret later."

Her lips kissed my bare shoulder, once, twice, and more before moving to my neck even as she took the clean shirt from my hands and tossed it away. "Grant," she whispered between kisses, "please, make love to me and I won't regret anything. Not...one...fucking...thing."

Her hands were undoing my belt buckle and then opening my pants. "Do you have a condom?" she asked as she took my already involuntarily firm cock in her hands and began a slow massage. With each stroke of her soft hands, my willpower evaporated further, and I reached in the top drawer and pulled out a whole strip.

I'm not sure how she got undressed or how she got a condom out and put it on me as we kissed, but we were soon lying in the bed together. I was between her legs, kissing her as I massaged her breasts. She pulled her legs up, high and wide, letting me see just a glimpse of her soft dark patch and the delicate rim of her inner lips tinted with an even darker tone.

No, her perfect skin tone definitely wasn't from sunbathing.

I really wanted to explore further, to admire and pleasure her before we made love, but she was ready, with her hands directing me inside her slick, wet sheath. Within three strokes, I found myself fully in her, pressed hard against her mound where I waited a bit, so very much enjoying her grip around me.

"Do it, Grant, please. Make love to me."

Cassie's eyes closed as she put her arms around me and pulled us close together. I started rocking in and out of her, but had only gone a few times when she grunted and groaned, "Faster, Grant, and harder. Please, fuck me hard."

Doing as she asked, I knew I wouldn't last long so I concentrated on her sounds as I slammed into her repeatedly. Cassie's moans became louder and quicker to match my breathing, with her gripping me on each stroke. It was much sooner than I hoped when I felt myself hitting that point of no return.

"Ehhhnnnn!" she moaned as she seemed to collapse in on herself, which was just in time since I felt my first shot into the condom, followed by one after another. I lay against her breasts, my head against hers, smelling her hair along with that of sweat and sex, and I held her for a bit until I had to withdraw and remove the rubber.

She finally opened her eyes and looked at me. "Thank you, Grant. Thanks for making me feel wanted, for making me feel good. It was...it was so good. And thanks for making me feel good about myself, too."

"Cassie," I whispered, still breathing hard, "thank you. It was great; you were great. And you're so beautiful."

She thanked me silently with her smile, basking in the afterglow and my praise, before resting her head against mine once more. We shifted a bit in the narrow bed so I could get an arm around her and hold her close and minutes passed as we comforted each other.

"Grant, I still have a lot of studying..."

"I understand. You need to go."

She nodded against me while at the same time hugging me a bit more tightly. "Regrettably."

"Cassie...can I see you this weekend? I'd really like to get to—"

"No, Grant, I'm sorry. I can't."

"Maybe next weekend?"

"No, I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Sometime soon? I know we need to get to know each other a lot better, but I think there's a chemistry between us, that we might be good together. If you need time, just say so, but I really want to find out eventually."

"You're right, I felt it between us, too, but Grant, as much as I hate to say it, you'll always remind me of Bill and of what he did. I want to forget him, to make a clean break, and that's what doing this has been about. I'm sorry, Grant, but I can't see you again."

She rose from the bed and started dressing, so I did the same. When she had her bra on, I handed her my red shirt, but she shook her head.

"Thanks, but I don't need it. As much as the first part of the day hurt, this has been one of the best Valentine's Days ever for me."

A minute later, she looked into the sadness of my soul through my own baby blues and gave my cheek a light, fluttery kiss. "Take care, Grant, and thanks again."

I watched her go and close the door behind her before looking down at the red shirt in my hand. I hated Valentine's Day so much!

In the months that followed, I saw Cassie around campus a few times. I considered approaching her each time, but she never did more than give me a nod and, maybe, a hint of a smile, before walking away.

Since I'd moved on as well, I didn't try to follow.

***

Chapter 5--Wednesday, February 14, 2007--College, Year 3

It's always exciting when you meet someone new, someone who could be that "someone special."

I did that a lot starting a few weeks after my encounter with Cassie, determined to date more, to find someone I cared about and who cared about me, so I became more social and became more willing to risk rejection in the hopes of winning acceptance. Each resulting date (or series of dates in a few cases) started with hope, but while some ended with a bang, all eventually fizzled out. However, Alexander Pope had it right, that hope springs eternal, so I kept trying.

One encounter was particularly memorable. It was a Thursday night in late January of 2007 when I was in the cafeteria line. With them being short a server or two, the line ground to a halt as they brought out more trays of food from the kitchen and put them in their serving layout.

I was already running behind on my way to a study session so I planned to get a styrofoam carryout box, but it was starting to look like I would have to skip dinner or else be really late to our session. Since I was responsible for coaching on two of the early chapters we were covering, that wouldn't be good, so I tapped my toe impatiently.

"There's a restroom right out there," said the girl behind me. "If it's that bad, I mean. I'll hold your spot in line if you'll hurry."

I turned toward her to deny her implication and to explain my problem but there were no words. She was too cute and my mouth hung open as my brain found it impossible to form a coherent thought.

"Ahem," I stammered, "ahem," leading her to smile and raise an eyebrow, as if knowing my problem as well as I did. Then she brought her hand up, placed it below my chin, and pushed it up.

"Be careful there. Flies, you know?"

The little smile was playful as she waited for my reply.

"Uhh, January. Not usually too many flies this time of year," I forced out before realizing what I'd said. My face went even brighter red than it already was, and she smiled, giving me the little bit of encouragement that I needed. "Ahem, I'm actually late to my study group or I'd ask you to have dinner with me."

"Are you letting your study group members down?"

"If I'm late, yeah. Why?"

"I was just wondering if they're planning to kill you. If not..."

She took my wrist and pulled my hand toward her. "Open." Using a ballpoint pen, she scrawled something across my palm. "If they let you live, I expect you to call me about that dinner."

I flexed my fingers as I stared at the number written on my palm and then turned to look at her. About 5'-2" and maybe 105 pounds, but 110 percent cute! She had short, chestnut colored hair with bright green eyes and a beautiful smile. Oh, and dimples!

It took me a second but I forced out, "But I don't even know your name."

She grabbed my hand again and started dragging the ballpoint across it once more. When she was done, I read "Cindi" with a heart in place of the dot over each "i" and she was smiling at me before she added. "I guess you should tell me your name, too, so I don't accidentally accept a dinner invitation from the wrong gentleman caller."

"I'm Grant," I breathed. "I'll call you."

She had a playful look as she replied, "You'd better."

***

As soon as I had my container of food and said goodbye to Cindi, I stopped at a table and wrote her number on a real piece of paper so I wouldn't lose it inadvertently due to my sweaty palms, and then I practically sprinted to the commons room where everyone was waiting. With the first test coming in a couple of days, the study session was as grueling as I'd feared so there was little of the conversation or levity we usually enjoyed. I presented my chapters and finally got to eat cold chicken strips and fries as the next person presented their part.

When the study session finally ended, we all felt we'd done well, but that the test was going to be quite hard, so I said goodbye to my study partners and made my way home in near record time. I had a lot of material to cover before I could rest, but first, I had one other important task.

It was two minutes after 11 when Cindi's phone rang and it picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, I'm not here at the moment, so at the beep, leave me a message. If it's Grant, I hope it's a good one!" the recording said in a rather mechanical lilt.

I laughed, reminded of the Blake Shelton song where the guy leaves long answering machine messages each time before adding a personal love note for his missing Austin, who he kept hoping would call. When the beep sounded, I said, "Hi, Cindi, it's Grant—"

"Hi, Grant! How'd the study session go?"

It wasn't quite the surprise as in the song where Austin tells him it's not a machine he's talking to but it was close, leaving me speechless for a moment. "Ah, hi!"

She giggled, we talked, and twenty minutes later, I had a date for the Saturday before Valentine's Day.

I was smiling as I hung up the phone. It was going to be a late night, but I had hope for the future.

***

It was the best date!

She was as sweet and funny as she was cute, and we had a great time. Being February, it was cold and the wind was blowing, so we crossed campus bundled up but arm-in-arm, and I loved every second of her smiles, her laughter, and the way she looked into my eyes.

"Want to stop at the snack mart and get a drink?" I asked, hopeful that we could extend our time together by at least a few more minutes.

"Sure! Wanna see what's playing in the lounge?"

After getting a couple of hot chocolates, we found a number of students, including some couples, watching a romantic comedy from a year or two earlier. Cindi smiled at me and nodded, so we found an unoccupied love seat in the back and settled in together, with her leaning in against me and my arm going around her to hold her close. We watched the movie, sipping our drinks, feeling quite comfortable together.

Extremely comfortable.

It wasn't long before I was rubbing her shoulders and then she turned, lying across my lap, and I was massaging her whole back as I tried to keep her from feeling my raging erection. The movie was forgotten as I kneaded her muscles, with her looking at me, me looking at her, and both of us trying to keep from snickering as she occasionally glanced down knowingly at my worshipful state.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, before twisting round, slipping a hand around my neck, and pulling me in for a kiss. "Mmmmm, that felt wonderful, Grant. It's getting late; can you walk me up to my room."

I have no idea where it came from, but I smiled and replied, "I'd walk you to the moon, if that's what you wanted."

Okay, it was too corny but she smiled and gave me another kiss before whispering, "My room will be far enough."

When we got there, we stopped in front of the door and she unlocked it before turning to me. "Grant, I had so much fun with you tonight, but I need to tell you something."

Here it comes. The letdown, I thought. Was it another guy? A girl? She was a practicing abstinent? What?

"I don't sleep with a guy until I've gotten to know him really well. And let me tell you, Grant, you're off to an incredible start and I'm looking forward to getting to know you even better next time."

Then she kissed me, just a little kiss, soft, supple, so sweet, before she pulled back and said, "Goodnight." With that, she stepped into her room and locked the door behind her.

Cloud Nine had nothing on me as I practically floated down the stairs of her building and made my way to mine on the opposite side of the quadrangle.

***

I tried calling on Sunday afternoon, but Cindi didn't answer and since she didn't have an answering machine after all, it was later that night before I finally reached her.

"Cindi, thank you for such a great evening. Can I see you again? Soon? Maybe next weekend?"

"Grant, I really enjoyed it, too, but, I'm sorry, I'm going home next weekend and I'm not sure what time I'll be back until after I speak with my parents. I'll be talking with them later in the week and then we can talk and see when we can get together again, okay?"