White Room Virgin (Room #1)

6 - Lucien

6

–––––

Lucien

I couldn’t help myself. I had to smell him.

He looked like him!

Of course, I knew it wasn’t him, but I was drunk as a skunk and saw Phil so real in front of me––after all this time. When I put my arms around Jonah, he stiffened but didn’t move back. Rather carelessly, I leaned closer to him, inhaling the scent on his neck. He steadied me before I could lose my balance. A warm, woodsy aroma reached my nose, and I was relieved that it wasn’t the scent I had secretly hoped for. Nevertheless, it made me think about how much I liked the smell, and I suddenly felt an intense craving. It was as if Jonah’s hard body made me realize how long it had been since I had last hooked up with a man.

My hands were still on his shoulders. I straightened up and looked at him. Our lips were just a few inches apart. Everything was a blur except for his beautiful hazel eyes, and I lost myself in them. As I continued to hold onto him, my gaze slowly wandered over his face. His evenly shaped nose, the dimples in his cheeks, and his beautifully sculpted lips that resembled perfect seashells.

I wonder what it’s like to kiss him.

Jonah opened his mouth slowly but hesitated to say anything. I looked deep into his eyes again. A few dark brown strands fell over his forehead. I shifted my weight so that I wouldn’t fall over and gently placed my hand on his neck. A wince shot through my body, and I bit my lower lip.

“Um, Lu? Are you okay?” Jonah’s warm voice snapped me out of my hallucinations. I swallowed.

Holy shit …

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled and stroked my face uneasily.

“It’s okay,” Jonah said with a breathtaking smile.

Damn!

I couldn’t watch this any longer and turned away. I would have liked to take two steps at once to get to the top floor as quickly as possible, but as drunk as I was, I had to hold on to the railing even for the single steps. Jonah grinned and placed his hands on my back. With a little push, the climb went pretty smoothly.

Once I reached the fifth floor, I pushed open the front door, stumbled over the cursed threshold, and staggered through the hallway straight into my room. The door slammed behind me, bringing me to an abrupt stop.

What had just happened?

What did I do?

It didn’t take much and I would have kissed him!

My eyes wandered to the photos on the wall. Most of them appeared blurry, except for one—Phil and me in Vietnam. For a moment, I hesitated to even approach the picture, but then I slipped off my coat and sat on the edge of the bed. The longer I stared into Phil’s blue eyes, the more I felt like he was sitting right next to me. I felt his warmth and how he pressed his shoulder against mine. I caught the sound of his soft, mischievous laugh, envisioning him sweeping me into his arms, tossing me onto the bed, leaning over with a grin, and pressing his lips against mine.

The last time had been so long ago, and yet I could still feel it as vividly as if it happened yesterday. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. My senses were whirling. I felt the sand on my skin, heard the sound of the sea, tasted the salty air, and smelled the sunscreen on his skin. I tenderly stroked his full head of dark brown hair, looked deep into his eyes, and wrapped my arms around him.

The heat between us still lingered—a reassuring sensation, albeit momentarily. Because as soon as I turned around and realized it had just been a daydream, my heart froze to ice.

Over and over again.

And now our new roommate reminded me of him too.

This can’t be true.

I rested my elbows on my knees, concealed my face with my hands, and fought to suppress the rising emotions. In the end, it was merely lust.

Yes, just lust. Because I have no feelings for Jonah.

Yet, the image of his lips returned to my mind’s vision, prompting me once more to ponder the sensation of kissing them. I had to admit to myself that he was actually totally my type. Two to three inches shorter than me, athletic figure—no wonder, given how much he went running.

I jumped up, all hot and bothered, running my fingers through my hair in frustration.

No! Stop it! He’s Martin’s cousin! An inexperienced, naive wretch. You’re definitely not going to make life difficult for him with your problems. So pull yourself together!

My eyes went back to the photo with Phil. As always, the memories came in waves. Before they could crash over me like a storm, I threw myself onto the bed and buried my head under the pillow.

***

When I woke up again, the alarm clock next to my bed read 6 pm. I felt like a zombie. My head was pounding, and my body was completely dehydrated. As I struggled out of bed, my joints creaked like those of an aging man. In pain, I dragged myself into the bathroom and stood under the shower, the hot water providing some relief. Afterward, I shuffled into the kitchen, where Martin was just sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee.

“Let me guess,” I said and went to the fridge. “You’re pushing yourself with your fifth coffee?”

“You know me too well,” he sighed, sipping his cup. “Seriously … this science homework is killing me.”

I took some juice from the fridge, poured myself a large glass, and sat down in my seat.

“So, how was it?”

“Good.” He didn’t need to know about my night with a hot brunette. It wasn’t that I couldn’t share with him, but after I let a few colorful details slip in my tales, he mentioned he knew me well enough by now and suggested I could skip those parts. But with my short answer, I had obviously already told him enough.

“Man or woman?” he asked.

“Woman.”

His eyebrows twitched as if he had made a cross under Female achievements of Lucien G. on his imaginary list. We had often discussed my one-night stands, which never led to anything. Martin had often advised me to talk to people more before going straight to bed with them. But repeatedly conveyed to him that his notion of love didn’t resonate with me. Yet, he always concluded the discussion with his trademark closing phrase: “I only hope that one day love takes you by surprise.”

Just the thought of that caused me to roll my eyes in disbelief. But I still cared for Martin, naturally—no one was closer to me, which wasn’t surprising considering all the shit I’d been through; he’d always been there.

I grabbed a magazine from the stack and flipped through its pages, lost in thought. I had long since memorized every page and even knew which pictures I had cut out and where so that I could later use them to create collages.

Then Jonah entered the kitchen with an empty glass in his hand, which he filled with tap water. Those shoulders. Like those of a swimmer. No wonder I saw Phil when I was drunk. I could hardly look at him, so I lit a cigarette and brushed back my wet hair.

“Have you two eaten yet?” Martin asked, finishing his fifth coffee.

“You’re welcome to cook something,” I mumbled, blew out the smoke, and turned the page.

Martin smiled and stood up. “Jonah …” He set the cup down beside the sink. “We could go to the thrift shop tomorrow. Why don’t you buy a table or hang some pictures on the wall?”

There was silence for a moment. I arched my eyebrows and glanced at them both with a questioning expression.

Jonah hesitated, his expression contorted with indecision. “I … well … I like my room the way it is.”

“Jonah,” Martin firmly said as he switched on the oven. “You spend your time in an empty room. Sitting on the bed with your laptop, working or reading.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?” he defended himself vigorously.

“It’s like you’re not even there,” Martin calmly said while putting cheese on the table and cutting off two slices of bread. “You stow your clothes and books under the bed so that your room is as empty as a prison cell. A bed and a lamp. To be honest, that worries me a little. It’s as if a ghost is living with us. Hang Jesus on the wall for all I care, but do something!” He then set the knife aside and regarded his cousin with concern. “Your parents are coming to visit soon. They’ll end up thinking you’re not being treated well here.”

Jonah’s sudden stiffness revealed his unmistakable sense of discomfort. When he noticed me looking at him— his lips are beautiful even when he’s serious–– he left the kitchen in a hurry.

“Hey!” Martin shouted.

“Looks like you’ve hit a sore spot,” I remarked in a straightforward manner.

“What do I know … I have no idea what exactly is going on inside him.” Martin stroked his hair back thoughtfully. “He’s still kind of a kid and hasn’t even had a girlfriend yet.”

“And why is that your problem?”

“It’s not my problem,” Martin replied. My question seemed to have irritated him a little. “You’re right. But let’s be honest—it’s not normal. A shared room shouldn’t look like a prison cell.”

“Just think of it as a white cube .”

“As what?”

“As a museum room.”

“And that’s better?”

“At least it has more potential than a prison cell.”

“Stop it!” Jonah suddenly shouted as he stood in the hallway, wearing his running clothes and putting on his cap.

“That was obvious. Now he’s off jogging again,” Martin remarked. “He’s acting like a maniac.”

The door slammed shut behind Jonah, his footsteps echoing as he descended the stairs. A glance out of the window indicated it was about to rain. I flicked the ash off my cigarette and said out loud, “It does have its charm, considering how many things we surround ourselves with.”

“Are you taking his side now?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m just saying.”