Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SINCLAIR
A n entire blissful week passes without a single August Lancaster sighting and I feel like I can finally breathe again. And sleep again too because I’m tired of dreaming about him every single night. He doesn’t haunt my thoughts throughout the day as much as he used to—thank goodness—and I actually dreamed of giving a presentation in front of my ethics class in just my underwear last night. Instead of the usual dream consisting of August going down on me with his hot tongue and sucking lips, only to wake up with my fingers in my panties yet again.
I call that progress.
Maybe he got the hint when I called him a stalker?
Doubtful.
Perhaps he realized I meant it when I called Tim my new boyfriend.
Probably not.
Whatever happened to keep August away from me, it doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen him for a full five days and I’m grateful. I feel normal again. Somewhat. Sort of.
Okay not really because he’s left such an impression on me that it’s become difficult to get him completely out of my thoughts. And then there’s Tim. Sweet, adorable, overeager Tim who has taken me to coffee three times this past week and I keep going despite the aftereffects of all that caffeine. I’m left jittery every time and I can’t think straight for what feels like hours. But when I asked Tim for a decaf latte the last time we went there, he scoffed like I asked him to poison me.
I don’t fully understand his obsession with caffeine, but I don’t question it. He’s nice and he appreciates the help that I give him with his English papers. He’s a terrible writer and can’t concentrate for too long and I hate to break it to him, but I’m going to guess it has something to do with all that coffee he consumes.
It's Saturday afternoon and I’m locked up in my dorm room writing a paper for my ethics class—it’s why I had the nightmare about giving a presentation in my undies, I’m sure of it—when the door swings open so fast, it slams against the wall. Elise darts into the room, the door banging closed behind her, and she starts twirling around with her head tilted back, a giant smile on her face.
“Are you okay?” I ask carefully, wondering if she’s having a seizure.
“I am fantastic!” She throws her body on the end of my bed, jostling me, and I grip the sides of my laptop so it doesn’t fall onto the floor. “I just had SEX and it was amazing!”
“Wait a minute.” I close my laptop and set it aside, studying her. Searching for signs that she’s been ravished, but I see none beyond her cheeks being a little pinker than normal. It’s cold outside so maybe that’s why. “You had sex? With who?”
“GG!” That’s what we call her golden god, aka Rafael. His family is Italian and his mother is a blonde from Sicily and that’s where the golden comes from, Elise explained to me a few nights ago when she wouldn’t fall asleep and kept talking about her new man, as she calls him. She kept me up for hours, rattling on and on about GG and at one point I wanted to tell her about August, but I kept my mouth shut. How can I explain my interaction with him when I don’t fully understand what happened? “Oh my God, it was so good.”
“Really?” I always hear horror stories about the first time and how bad it is. And I know for a freaking fact Elise is—was—a virgin. “It didn’t hurt?”
“Noooooo.” She draws the word out like I’m an idiot for even asking. Or maybe that’s my own insecurities making me feel that way. “It helps that he ate me out for like an hour and I came so many times I could barely feel it when he finally was inside me.”
Hmm. Or does that mean GG has a tiny dick? I’m not about to ask.
“Anyway, it was great and my thighs are sore and so is my jaw and I want to do it again. Immediately.”
“With GG or with someone else?”
“With GG of course!” She rolls around on my bed and I wrinkle my nose, wondering if she took a shower after having sex with Rafael or if she is rubbing her post-sex sweat all over my comforter. “He invited us to go to the football game tonight.”
“Us?”
“Yes. He said Tim wants to go too but he didn’t know how to ask you.” Elise rolls off my bed and stands beside it, resting her hands on her hips. “You need to work on not being so stiff all the time, Sinclair. Tim told GG that you intimidate him.”
“Stiff? I’m not stiff. I’ve hung out with Tim all week.” And I’m not going to change my behavior to make Tim feel better. That’s just not my way of doing things. He should accept me for who I am—and I thought he did. But maybe not? “We’re getting to know each other and maybe I’m…shy? I’m definitely not intimidating.”
“You so are. Even GG thinks you’re scary. I told him that you throw up walls as a defense mechanism, but he didn’t seem to get what I was saying.” She shrugs and I’m starting to think GG not only has a small penis, but he’s also stupid.
A sigh leaves me and I lean over to set my laptop on top of the mini fridge that sits between our beds and acts like a bedside table. “I don’t know if I want to go to the football game.”
Elise’s face falls like I just crushed all of her hopes and dreams. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!”
I hate football. I don’t really care about any sports, if I’m being real with myself. So going to a football game on a Saturday night sounds like my idea of torture. “It’ll be cold,” is my lame response.
“Not that bad! It’s only September. The games will get really cold in October.” Elise nods with an authoritative air as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about, even though this is her first year here.
“Why can’t Tim ask me to go?” What I really want to say is, doesn’t he have the balls to ask me?
“Like I said, he’s intimidated by you.” Elise speaks slowly, as if I’m having trouble comprehending what she’s saying. I do my best to battle the frustration that’s currently filling me, but I finally give in to it.
“I think that’s just an excuse.” Elise tries to interrupt me but I keep talking. “Like I said, we’ve been hanging out all week, getting to know each other. And he’s still intimidated by me and can’t ask me to the football game?”
Elise shrugs helplessly. “That’s what he told me.”
“You tell Tim if he wants me to go with him, he needs to ask me.” I cross my arms and lean against the rickety headboard, ignoring the way it pokes against my back and makes it ache.
“Fine.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and starts typing. “I’m texting Rafael and telling him to tell Tim. ”
“Perfect.” This is dumb. Like we’re playing the telephone game as if we’re in kindergarten, yet we’re in college.
“Okay done.” I hear the swoosh of a text being sent and she heads over to her tiny dresser. “I need to take a shower.”
I knew she was still covered with sex sweat. I need to wash my comforter, but the laundry facility we use is subpar. It’ll take like twenty dollars and hours of my time monitoring the machines to make sure it’s washed and dried properly.
Gross.
The moment Elise leaves our room to go shower, I grab my laptop and attempt to finish my ethics paper, but I’m too distracted. I keep thinking about what she said. What Tim and Rafael think of me and I…
I hate it.
I don’t mean to be intimidating. I would’ve never described myself with that word at all. I’m the one who’s intimidated by others and have been since I was a kid. Especially with bullies who do their best to torment me and make my life miserable.
Not able to shake my frustration, I grab my phone and send a text to Tim, deciding to be upfront with him. There’s no point in playing games. He needs to know how I feel.
Me: You shouldn’t be so intimidated by me that you can’t ask me to the game.
The moment the text is sent, I’m filled with regret. I was probably way too pushy, saying that. He might think I’m a complete bitch. Maybe I am a complete bitch.
Closing my eyes, I thunk the back of my head against the headboard once. Twice. I am an utter failure when it comes to this dating stuff.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I nearly drop it in my eagerness to see if it’s from Tim. And it is.
Tim: I didn’t want Elise to tell you that.
Hmm. I take his response as a good sign.
Me: Well she did and I hate that you feel that way .
Tim: I don’t feel that way all the time. Just…
Me: Most of the time?
Tim: Yeah.
Me: Now’s your chance to ask me. So ask me.
He doesn’t respond for what feels like hours. I’m gnawing on my lower lip, stressed the hell out while waiting for him to say something. Anything. And finally, he does.
Tim: Hey, Sinclair. Want to go to the game with me tonight?
Smiling, I tap out my answer.
Me: I would love to.