Three Weeks Ago

Three weeks ago, I would have never thought I’d be sitting here on his bed, watching him type on his computer. I had been imagining what his room looked like, where his bed was and how he looked sitting at his desk. I imagined a short, awkward boy hunched in front of a tiny computer at an even tinier desk. Instead, he was casually leaning back in his straight-backed chair, lackadaisically punching with one finger on his keyboard.

I pulled my sneakers off and drew my legs to my chest, resting my head on my knees. When I sighed, contentedly, he looked up at me from the monitor, the blue glow from it distorting his face. He smiled, the apology that was soon to escape his blue-ish tinted lips was first evident in his shadowed eyes.

“I promise I won’t be on here long,” he apologized, his lips forming the words carefully and delicately. “I want to talk to you.”

“Don’t hurry,” I said. “I don’t mind watching you.” I replied, without fear of revealing my long-hidden feelings for him. I mean, I had come all of this way just to see him. Just to sit on his bed. I didn’t mind watching him. He was wonderful to watch.

“I’ve just got to fix this one thing,” he said, turning back to his computer, showing me his distinguished profile. A nicely shaped nose, and a strong jaw-line. “I swear I’m not intentionally ignoring you.” I watched as his jaw-muscles tensed and then relaxed as he spoke.

I laughed. “I bet. I see how you are, Mr. Franklin. I come all of this way just to sit on your bed and watch you work. Perhaps I should have brought my computer.”

He stopped typing and looked back at me, not familiar with the sound of teasing in my voice. The uncertainty of whether I was joking or not evident on his face. Then he cracked a smile, reminding me that I was equally unfamiliar with his facial expressions. “No. Not sit on my bed,” he began, the rest of the thought inferred by his grin.

I raised my head from my knees and laughed. A good laugh. “L-M-A-O,” I spelled out, still laughing.

He chuckled at me and turned back to the monitor. “I swear I’ll be finished in just a sec. B-R-B.”

I returned his smile and looked around his room. It was a barren room, a studio apartment. He had a tiny kitchenette in the left corner by the door. A small window directly to the right of the door. On the next wall of the small, square apartment, there was a bookshelf, crammed full of every book imaginable, including an unabridged dictionary. A TV rested on a tiny table to the right of the bookshelf. The bathroom was in between the TV and the small desk, directly across from the door, that was home to Sam’s computer. And then the bed that I was sitting on was near the computer, on the wall opposite the TV and bookshelf.

Sam’s phone and answering machine rested on the night table beside the bed. The answering machine light had been flashing when we first walked into his room. It was an urgent message, saying, basically, that there were some important corrections that Sam needed to make to his employer’s website. That’s why the internet was more important than I was, at least for the moment.

I glared at the answering machine, cursing it for ruining the evening for me. I had been thinking about being here, in Sam’s room, for weeks. He had described the room for me, while we talked on the internet, but I never pictured it quite like this.

Sam was neater than I thought he’d be. And it was quieter in his room than I thought it’d be. I examined the books on the shelf more as I laid back on Sam’s bed, nestling my head into his pillow. I took a deep breath, his smell filling my head. No. It smelled like his shampoo. I laughed.

He looked over at me and frowned. “Just a sec,” he mouthed.

I closed my eyes, playing with the image of his lips in my mind. I had kissed him, quickly, right when I had gotten off the bus in town. But we were in public, and he was too busy making a scene, waving a huge sign that said “Cassie” on it. Although we had swapped pictures, more than several times, we still had no idea what the other one looked like. Everyone at school told me I was a fool for even going out to Detroit to see him. I lived in Columbus, Ohio, and the trip was more than 5 hours long. And I hadn’t even told my parents that I was going to Detroit. They would never approve of my leaving the state just to see a guy I had met on the internet.

I hummed some non-sense song to myself as I heard the steady clicking coming from his keyboard. I could tell he was hurrying, and it made me smile. I had been afraid that he would take one look at me and ask me when I was going back to Ohio. Instead, he threw his arms around me as soon as I stepped off of the bus. “Cassie,” he said, almost questioningly.

I had giggled at him when he said that. “Have you been doing that to all of the girls that have walked off the bus?”

He had looked at me blankly, leading me at first to believe he had. Then he flashed that grin of his and quickly kissed me. “You’re the first,” he said, reassuringly.

As we walked toward his car, I told him about my eventful bus trip and he told me what he had planned for the night.

“We’ll just go back to my place and I’ll fix you dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

I scowled at him, trying unsuccessfully to hide how much I really liked him, although it was more than obvious by the fact that I had come all of the way to Detroit to see him. I shrugged, trying to see how far he’d let me go before calling my bluff. “You mean, I’ve come all of this way just to be locked in your room with you all night?” The smile escaped my lips.

Sam laughed as he placed my bag in the trunk of his red 1967 Firebird. “I know. It’ll be pretty boring, but I think we can find something to do.”

“Yep,” I continued, “There’s probably a baseball game on or something. Hey,” I said, really remembering something, “The Rangers play the Tigers tonight. I bet it’s on TV.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Baseball.”

I followed Sam over to the passenger door of his car. “You know,” I sighed, one of those cheesy, pre-teen sighs, “Alex Rodriguez is the second sexiest man alive!”

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked as he unlocked my door and opened it for me. “I’ll bite,” he said. “And just who is the sexiest man, Cassie?”

I rolled my eyes, still trying to make sure I didn’t tackle Sam right there in front of everyone. “Derek Jeter!” I laughed, hoping, sort-of, that Sam knew I was kidding.

Instead of responding, Sam motioned to the car seat and walked over to his side of the car. I climbed in and reached over, unlocking his door for him. As he got in, he smiled at me.

“I was going to take you out to dinner,” Sam explained to me as we drove out of the bus station parking lot.

“But since I pissed you off, now you’re not?” I joked.

“No,” he laughed. “But now that you mention it . . . .” He smirked at me. “No,” apologizing with a shrug. “I’m sort of on a tight budget, and I really wanted to help you with your ticket up here. So I’m making spaghetti. If that’s ok with you,” he asked, not looking at me, but instead staring intently at the road.

I watched him blankly gaze ahead of him, not revealing any emotions. I was still afraid that I had pissed him off.

“I didn’t make you mad about the Jeter comment, did I?” I asked, deciding it was better to just get it out in the open. “I didn’t mean it. I mean. I don’t really know who the sexiest guy in the world is. And it all depends. It depends on me and etc.etc.etc. You know?”

Sam laughed and looked at me. “I don’t know if that was supposed to make me feel better or not.” I floundered, wondering why I kept putting my foot in my mouth. Then he smiled at me. “I’m not bothered by it. Just don’t ever do it again,” he said, changing his tone to a more jocular one. He reached over to me and grabbed my left hand. He brought it up to his soft lips, lightly kissing the tiny mole on the back of my hand. “Cute,” he said, referring to the mole. I blushed, my poker face destroyed.

Sam didn’t live too far away from the bus station, and I was relieved since I had forgotten to use the bathroom before we left. He quickly helped me get my bag from the trunk and we ran upstairs to his apartment. He let me in and I bolted for the bathroom, unwilling to look at his room in my condition, just barely noticing the flashing light on his answering machine.

As I was washing my hands, I heard a voice on his answering machine desperately pleading with him to fix the site because there had been several customer complaints over a broken link or something. I was still unsure as to what all Sam was in charge of for the website, but regardless, it was more important than me or our dinner that he had promised to make. I tried to help him out by offering to fix dinner, but he vehemently refused.

So, I found myself curled up on Sam’s bed, hearing the soothing sound of his typing. His strong fingers caressing the keys, not me. I listened to his breathing, and imagined him chewing his lip as he examined the “broken” website. His green eyes looking over .html programming instead of me. I stirred in his bed, burying my face further in his pillow, his smell enveloping me. Was this what I had imagined when I first bought my ticket to see him? No. Was it better? It seemed to be. Like a crush, I was able to examine him from a distance. Watch him and size him up. If he was taller than me, it wasn’t by much. His hair was darker than mine, by merely a shade. It was short and I imagined how it would prickle my fingers when I ran them through it, or over it.

His heaved a deep sigh and I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. I half-smiled, inviting him away from the computer, beckoning him to me. If I had been the world’s largest magnet and him a ton of steel, I couldn’t have pulled him to me faster. His lips were sweet and he delicately kissed me as he had promised me a week before. I opened my mouth and allowed his tongue to slide quietly past my teeth and into my mouth. I caressed his face, feeling the tiny beginnings of a beard. As he breathed out of his nose, I could feel the warm air rush down my cheek. Simultaneously, he moved his moist mouth over and down my neck, eliciting more than a quiet moan. He laughed, a sensuous laugh and looked up at me as he kissed my chin. He was pleased with the sound I had made and his smile said, “I told you so.” He had told me he could make me make those sounds.

As I ran my fingers through his hair, I gently pulled his mouth back to mine. Pulled his tongue into my mouth. Suddenly, abruptly, the phone rang, making us both jump, and almost making me bite his tongue. Sam looked back at the computer, wondering why he wasn’t still online.

“What the fuck?” he said, sitting up to look at the screen.

The phone rang again. Sam reached back over my head and picked up the phone.

“Yeah?” he said. I could feel his chest rise and fall against my chest. He licked his lips that I had moistened for him and smiled down at me. Quickly, his lustful look turned to one of agitation. “Right now?”

Quietly, I laid there, panting in his bed, waiting for him to slam down the phone and return to me. All I could hear was the muttering of a person talking in the background, one of those people that talk way too loudly on the phone.

Sam’s face was quiet. He stared blankly at the wall above my head, not revealing any emotion. “Sure, I’ll do it,” he said, nodding as he said it. “Yeah. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and continued to look at the same blank spot on the wall, basically ignoring me, the girl that was still snuggled down in his bed.

I could smell his deodorant, and I could still taste him. I wanted to pull him back down to me, but something on his face told me not to.

“What was it?” I finally asked, waiting for my crush to kiss me again.

“It was my employer,” he finally admitted. “They want me to come in right now and work on the site.”

I laid there quietly as what he said sunk in. The great kisser that was presently laying on top of me, that was slowly breathing on me, that was lightly running his fingers over my hair, was planning on leaving me to go to work. So what would any girl in my position do?

I was furious. I pushed him off of me, and he tumbled off the bed to the ground. “Cassie,” he said, reaching up for me as I stepped over him. “Don’t go.”

I looked down at him. “Go?” I replied. “I’m not going.” I walked over to the computer and shut it off. Then I walked over to the phone and yanked out the cord. “Fuck the website. Fuck your employer.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Fuck me.”