The Freshman Experiment

Music: The Moldy Peaches – Anybody Else But You

Me: “So, you’re not going to make out with other people? Unless it’s Heidi Klum because, come on, I would never let you pass up a chance with that.”

Mr. NG: “Exactly. You too about the Klum thing. In fact, if that ever comes up, call me. I’d love to see that go down.”

Me: “Okay, mister, it’s a deal.”

Mr. NG: “Let’s shake on it?”

Music: Blue Merle – If I Could

In Biology I was taught that my skin, my epidermis protects, but how can I put that much trust in something so vulnerable? My caution falls apart when he starts tracing words along my spine. The nerves jump and react so excitedly that all I can think about is the next time he’ll write on me.

What thrills me the most is that I am being led solely by my senses. Always, I am purposed and calculated, constantly second guessing what I should think except this time. I’m not quite sure if I’m leaping into a pool of hurt but if I am I’ll do it stark naked. Every other aspect of life requires reasoning and by the end of the day my brain aches. The one thing I don’t want to be doing is laying across his stomach thinking and wondering what this is between us. So I’ve become absolutely numb to any consequences that might arise.

Drunk is how I described it last time. Happily paralyzed is what I think of it now.

Music: Explosions in the Sky – Your Hand in Mine

If only things could be as simple as a Saturday night when music and friends are enough to keep me smiling the whole way through. Eleven of us managed to fit into a room for a single, along with five different kinds of shampoo and heels intended for our respective boys. But I was content singing Backstreet Boys with the girl from a Capella as they played drinking games that made no sense. The New Guy I’ve been seeing kept pinching my hips or shooting furtive glances at me while he poured shots for his friends. Each time my stomach dropped to my ankles and I stumbled around with the weight of it, completely drunk off of the knowledge that someone else is crazy for me like I am for him.

Thirty minutes and a bottle of Smirnoff later we were on the dance floor. The basement room was filled with bodies held together by sweat and shitty rap music. There were boys who couldn’t find the beat, boys who could manage to follow her hips, and the boys who stood against the wall, passing out “come hither” looks to any girl with enough cleavage. It’s the quiet, strategic flirtation that I quit being a part of the moment Mr. New Guy walked by me on campus and gave a smile that was only intended for me. I wouldn’t let myself find out if I could like him because Four keeps going through hot and cold moments. He likes me. He doesn’t like me. And so on.

But Mr. NG made it easy a month ago after days of skirting around the issue. He grabbed my hand and told me he liked me and that was that.

I’m finally letting myself live on the edge of my skin where I only do something because it feels good. There was no work being done this weekend. I let my eyes rest instead of keeping them open for hours and hours under the dim light of my desk lamp. I danced with someone who thinks I’m amazing and while I assure him that I’m just a girl he stares at me as if I’m much more than that.

I want to replay these last two days and wake up again at 8 a.m. with the stubble of his beard grazing my face.