(The following story is Part 2 of the third segment of a trilogy beginning with The Wedding and The Engagement. All of the fictional characters here were created and developed in earlier segments of the trilogy. Please read those segments for context and premise before continuing)
The Honeymoon, Part 02
The next day Artie and I avoided each other. I never knew why. He didn't come find me in the late afternoon to play one-on-one. It was a Sunday, too, so we could have played for hours on end.
I considered Jennie's counsel against the feel of Artie's hands caressing my breasts and the taste of his mouth on mine. This was MY guy!! Why should I have to play the waiting game? Why should I have to pretend I didn't want to feel his penis churning inside me?
And yet Jennie's words rang true. Artie and I were close enough for him to admit a venereal disease. The admission itself was a character flaw; he'd been unfaithful!! But we weren't an item! But we SHOULD have been an item!! Who gave that BITCH the right to infect MY man!! How could HE have been stupid enough NOT to know he was mine? And if he'd had unprotected sex with HER, what stopped him from going rawdog on ME when I gave him the chance? I mean, what, ten minutes of kissing? Somewhere in there should have been at least a dry hump, you know? A finger bang, a finger sniff. SOMETHING! We're GROWN, for god's sake!!
I saw him in the late part of the day. He pretended he didn't see me. Angry, I walked the other way. He hadn't bothered to call. Something was wrong.
When we did come across one another in the dormitory lounge, the meeting was abrupt and uncomfortable. He treated me as if we'd committed incest and (I sensed), if we continued to communicate, our parents would surely find evidence of our sexual malfeasance. At least that's how I took it. There was a breach in the friendship. We'd overstepped our bounds.
We tried to laugh it off. Even the laughter felt uncomfortable. I wondered if one of Artie's boys was giving him the same advice I'd received from Jennie? How long could we hide our lust behind the faΓ§ade of friendship?
I went back to my room, got down on my knees and prayed to the Good Lord in Heaven.
The next day it was as if a monsoon wind had come and washed the lust away from our sails. When I saw Artie, my smile was authentic, as was his. We were genuinely happy to see each other. We went and played three games of one-on-one. Then we went to dinner together. There was no mention of Saturday night. We'd returned to our comfort zone.
After the conclusion of our first semester I returned home for a short while. And by short, I mean VERY short. The D State women's team played a round robin tournament four days before Christmas. We had another tourney scheduled four days after Christmas; we had to get back into the gym for practice two days before that.
I got back to Dallas and hooked up with the guy with whom I'd shared my virginity the summer before. His name was Darius. We had sex several times that weekend. I figured I'd earned it, having been involuntarily celibate for the entirety of my first semester in college. Other than that one interlude with Artie after the Krimson and Kreme Ball, I hadn't touched any man on campus. I'd even eluded the annual assault of the upperclassmen, in which longer tenured students at D State swept down upon freshman women and fucked them, taking advantage of those who'd never been away from home before, and were only too happy to give up the scootie.
Of course, I'd made Darius wrap his rascal. Somehow, in my mind, having protected sex didn't count as real sex. Real sex leaves a big wet spot in the imprint of your ass on the underlying sheets, complete with that little widow's peak where your pussy's slit resides. At least that's what I thought. I wouldn't let Darius go down on me, either, though he tried. That would have counted as real sex, too. I just needed to have a dick up in me, you know? I mean, being a grown woman and all. Artie was lollygagging. A few of The Fellas tried me and failed. Jennie assured me that Artie knew what he was doing. I wasn't so sure. But I had no intention of telling Artie about Darius. While he may have felt comfortable telling me about Lois, I was sure that his knowledge of Darius would lock us into friend-mode forever. I didn't want that.
The second semester of freshman year raced past. Our basketball team was doing well, so well that I didn't have much time to wonder about my social life. Artie and The Fellas made a point to come see us play. Usually, a women's basketball game draws a sparse house. As we won more and more games, the buzz surrounding our team generated larger and larger crowds. The Fellas made enough noise to have a section all their own. They cheered me raucously. I enjoyed the attention.
I finished that first season averaging about nine points per game. We lost in the second round of the Women's NIT tourney. It hurt. Secretly, I was glad the season was over. I was having problems with Chem II. Plus, I was getting a C in Humanities. I needed more study time. The end of our season afforded me this. I spent more time in my room and less time in the dorm lounge. Sometimes Artie came to visit me. I waved him away. We weren't going to fuck. I couldn't afford to make any B's or C's waiting for him to whip his dick out.
In our sophomore year both Jennie and I found boyfriends. I was tired of waiting on Artie to find his heart. I started seeing this guy named Jaden. Don't you know Artie and Kevon pulled Jaden aside and gave him the third degree? It was like I was their little sister!! When I found out about it, I was so mad!! I went and read them both the Riot Act. Then I took Jaden aside and I fucked him silly, ass-shaped wet spot and all.
Let's not get too deep into Jaden. Suffice to say our relationship didn't work out. When we broke up, Artie and Kevon were there with shoulders I could cry on. The Riot Act hadn't affected our friendship any. Eventually I told Artie about my sex life with Jaden. He'd gotten me pregnant. I'd had an abortion. My basketball coach never found out or I risked getting kicked off the team. Of course, I was heartbroken. Artie stood by me. I was more in love with him than ever. One night I almost told him of my ongoing affection. Jennie busted in AGAIN and ruined the mood.
Sharon Pennington was another thing that happened sophomore year. Sharon was a senior. Artie took a liking to her. He invited her to the Krimson and Kreme Ball, much to my chagrin. He brought her to our dorm lounge where I had the distinctly unpleasant honor of watching them canoodle for months. What could I say? More often than not I muttered that I had an exam in the morning. I left them to it and went back to my room.
Artie and Sharon dated well into the second semester of our sophomore year. He confided to me that she was The One. This was about two weeks before she broke up with him. She said she was returning to her old boyfriend Chase who, like Sharon, was a senior living off campus. Artie was crushed. Now it was my turn to offer up a shoulder to cry on, which he did. When he reached up to kiss me I pushed him away. Two weeks ago this nyugga was in love with another woman while, stupid me, remained in love with HIM. I'm no one's fallback position.
I got over that. But secretly I was angry with Sharon. She'd broken my best friend's heart. That's when I knew Artie and I were truly friends. I felt his pain. My anger was not jealousy.