
We drove through for our dinner, and ended up talking about absolutely nothing Zoology related for the first two hours of our evening together. Eventually, we managed to get down to business. We began designing flashcards. Terminology on one side, definition and illustration on the other. Flagella. Nemotode. These are words that arouse me, even now, purely for the association. We came up with silly and lewd mnemonic devices to help us remember the terms. I was having fun.
Then we decided we’d studied long enough, and we deserved a congratulatory drink. Which I had on hand. Toasting our bitchin’ flashcards, we downed the hard lemonade. He bummed a cigarette off me.
As he lit it, he smiled, “My girlfriend hates it when I smoke.”
Girlfriend.
Glass breaking. Tires screeching. My heart ventricles shut down for five seconds, and I felt like my brain was about to implode.
The next time I saw him in class he was different. Not cooler, like I might have expected after the way I completely closed off following his unexpected reveal. Just the opposite. He touched me more, touched my back when he said hello, touched my arm when he made a joke to tease me.
We walked to our cars afterward. He drove a huge, ancient, rusty Oldsmobile. I thought it was downright sexy. We sat in his car and he asked me for a cigarette. I probed about the girlfriend. Long term, almost five years. They’d broken up on a few occasions. He liked her okay, but didn’t plan on marrying her. My break was over, and it was time to shuffle off to Political Science where the best-looking guy was the pretentious professor, who always had to say, “I’m being facetious!” when making a joke. Tim hugged me goodbye.
Part of our final grade were two reports (hooray!) on trips to local wildlife havens. We had a whole list to choose from, and could make the trips at any time. Tim asked me if I’d like to join him when he went to the tide pools down in San Pedro. Knowing I would otherwise indefinitely procrastinate on this assignment, and still afflicted with the crush I’d been suffering from for weeks, I agreed.
More storytelling
The suspense is too much...I am starting to turn blue from holding my breath (and thinking of Tim's undershirt)
Please hurry with the rest of the story :-)
i hope this story has more undershirt cameos in the third chapter!
Posted by: ceity on September 15, 2005 02:16 PMOK, I still think you're going to sleep with him. But, if not, the reason he became more flirty with you was: guys like it when girls flirt with them -- potential and all that. He was afraid he'd lose you as a flirting partner, which is crushing. So, more flirting to keep you into the whole thing.
Posted by: Wade on September 15, 2005 02:59 PMHa. I love it.
"Just get to the sex already, Helena!"
I should probably just start writing:
"I met a boy. I liked him. We did it. He was a jerk. We stopped talking.
The end."
It makes everything so much easier! But then you don't get to hear about the juicy details. Although I hear they're usually on the anti-climactic side anyway. Meh.
Posted by: Helena on September 15, 2005 03:17 PM"I met a boy. I liked him. We did it. He was a jerk. We stopped talking.
The end."
That *IS* just how you'd write it!
More details on the DID IT, please.
And, remember: it's not the size of your flagellum. It's how you wiggle it.
;-)
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