Ride With Me

I’ve always dreamed of going to one but I never thought I would. In high school, I never got invited to the cool parties. I was known as ‘Claire Thomas: math whiz, brain, complete geek.’ I was the female version of the Big Bang guys.

At the start of high school, I was flat-chested, which had not helped my popularity in junior high. By the end of tenth grade, I had much bigger breasts. Awkwardly bigger breasts. And while I’d dreamed about having boobs since I was twelve, I was then too shy to do anything but hide them. I grew into my nose, got contacts, and looked much prettier, but strangely that didn’t help my confidence. I’d learned to be quiet and reserved and I stayed that way.

But now I’m in college—Yardley College in New Hampshire. And I am actually at a frat party. My dorm roommate, Abby Potter brought me, as she was invited and allowed to bring a guest. She also chose my wardrobe for the night, so I’m wearing skinny jeans and one of her T-shirts, which has a low, scooped neck. If I look down I can see inside the neckline to my bra.

I brought a zip-up hoodie, which is now covering the T-shirt and is zipped up to my neck. I stand in a corner, holding a beer that I have no intention of drinking.

I thought this would be thrilling. I feel completely out of place.

The fraternity, Alpha Delta Phi, has an enormous, century-old brick house just outside the Yardley campus. A huge wooden porch wraps around the house, filled with people dancing and laughing. And couples kissing. In the kitchen, guys chug beer. Tequila shots are going around the living room.

I have the beer that someone handed me even though I protested that I don’t drink. But since I put the first one down earlier and got a second one shoved at me, I just keep carrying it.

I have to find Abby, so I can tell her I’m going back to the Yardley campus. I feel like I don’t belong here. I also have to call a cab.

I walk into the living room. A guy dances like a wild man, throwing himself crazily around on the cleared floor space. He crashes into me, his arms flailing. I stumble back and splash the beer on my jeans.

I try to find my way to a bathroom for a towel.

I find a door I’m sure leads to a bathroom and open it.

Oh God. There’s a girl sitting on the toilet lid with her skirt pushed up and a guy is on his knees in front of her. Her high-heeled shoes rest on his shoulders. Her eyes are closed, she’s moaning in pure pleasure, and his face is under her skirt.

I’m completely embarrassed, and I stumble back, pulling the door shut. My heart races and I’m breathing fast enough to hyperventilate. I don’t think they noticed me, so I don’t know why I feel so tense and awkward.

Potentially because I never dated in high school, I am still a virgin, and since I turned eighteen I’ve been feeling more frustrated about that—

Then I see him.

There are some guys you never get over and you never forget. That’s what Trey Madison is to me. He’s the crush I had since I was in Grade Seven. Total and complete desire for him has burned in my heart ever since. However, I was invisible to him.

It should be different now that I’m no longer in high school. I should be able to go up to him. Say hi. Talk to him.

But I can’t. My tongue actually feels numb. There’s a huge pain in my chest. My heart feels as if nerves and fear are smacking it like a stick against a piñata.

Trey staggers to the side and slams into the wall. Then laughs and sucks back his beer. He’s drunk.

Now I’m worried about Trey. As he walks into the living room, I follow him. Just to watch out for him. He could pass out.

He stops, leaning against the wall, turns around and looks right at me. I should say something. Act surprised, as if I just happened to be there and recognized him. But I just stare at his beautiful grey-blue eyes helplessly.

“Hi,” he says.

“Uh,” is what comes out of my mouth.

He walks away from me. Because who wouldn’t after my scintillating attempt at conversation?

Trey heads for the stairs and I stand by the wall, cursing myself.

What was I doing? I was so hopeless. I could have had what I’d dreamed of since I first hit puberty. I could have talked to him. Maybe, maybe I could have even ended up kissing him.

If I were still the same person I was in high school, I would retreat right now since I was super awkward and shy.

But I’m eighteen, too old to be a coward anymore. To be stymied by what people think or what they might say.

I set my beer down on the floor by the wall and take off the hoodie. Gazing in the mirror in the downstairs hall, I try fluffing my hair. I can’t manage a transformation like Jamie Curtis in True Lies, where she rips the ruffles off her dress, slicks back her hair with water from a vase, and is suddenly sexy. But I look better. Sort of hot. Abby’s T-shirt clings to my breasts and makes me look very curvy.

I want to kiss Trey. I want to know what it would be like. If I don’t go for it, I’ll never know. He goes up the stairs but he stops on the landing halfway up. I catch up to him since I’m almost running up the steps. He looks at me with surprise.

I start to give him an abbreviated wave, then put my hand down at my side. I brush my hair back. “Hi Trey, I remember you from high school. We went to the same one.”

“Yeah? Don’t remember you.”

“I’m Claire.” I swallow hard. Once I give him the full name, he will remember who I am and how much I

was teased. “Claire Thomas.”

He still stares blankly. He has no memory of me at all.

Yes, I was invisible. But that gives me a clean slate.

I step close to him, look up at him through my lashes. I have no idea how to flirt. “Uh—do you want to dance? Downstairs?”

He looks at me like I asked him to shave his head. “No.”

Okay. So what do I do now? I have no idea what to say to Trey. “Do you remember when you won the last

football game of the season?”

“Y eah.”

I need more than a one word answer. “What’s your major?”

“Economics.”

He takes a step away.

“Wait.” It comes out before I think.

He stops.

I had nothing prepared to say. Summoning all my courage, I lick my lips. I step forward and clasp his hand. “Uh...do you want to kiss?”

I can’t believe I did that.

He grins. Then he backs me against the wall on the stair landing. He’s still holding the beer. But with his other hand he braces his hand on the wallpaper and leans close to me. My legs are turning to jello. Trey Madison’s mouth is almost touching mine. This is my fantasy position from seventh and eighth grades. I would close my eyes in math class and imagine I had the desk beside Trey’s, and he would lean over to ask me a question and our mouths would be almost touching. By the end of grade eight, I began to fantasize about an actual kiss. I would dream that we got overwhelmed with desire in the middle of math and he gave me this long, sensual, open-mouthed kiss in front of everyone.

Almost every night for six years, I dreamed of kissing Trey. It could happen now.

All I have to do is go for it.

I tip my face up and go to kiss him. Except he sways on his feet just as I lift on my toes. He moves a couple of inches to the left and I hit my teeth against his. I purse my lips and try to find his mouth. He’s moving unsteadily, which makes it hard to keep our mouths connected. I try to put my arm around his neck and accidently hit him.

Desperate, I put my hands to his jaw so I can keep him steady. Now I can kiss him. I soften my lips, open my mouth, and try to use my tongue to tease his.

Trey tastes of alcohol and smoke and I thought that combination would prove to be a lot sexier than it is. Actually, it’s fairly disgusting.

I keep trying, hoping it’s going to get better.

But he pulls back and straightens. “Thanks, Kelly. See you around.”

He’s goes up the steps, moving away from me.

“It’s Claire,” I call after him.

“Yeah. See you later, Claire.”

Gripping the banister, he hauls upstairs. I don’t follow him.

My kiss has scared him away. He’s drunk. But even blotto, he is not interested. I screwed up the kiss I always dreamed of having.

He’s gone and my whole fantasy has evaporated like smoke. Why couldn’t I do it? He didn’t know anything about me—didn’t remember I was geeky in high school.

Maybe I could have seduced him if I knew what to do.

He did say, “See you later.” He didn’t say that he never wanted to set eyes on me again. Maybe, if I could

learn how to be seductive and enticing—learn how to kiss properly—I could have Trey. Just like I dreamed.