It was never something I expected to actually happen.
Not when I first saw her again on campus, not when we decided to grab a bite, not even when I first felt the spark. No, if it was going to happen between Alyssa and I, it would've in high school.
We'd known each other since freshman year, both in the same English class. We'd both been fairly quiet students, but we ran with similar crowds. Occasionally, we'd be at the same party or mall hangout, but she'd be focused on her BFF Jill, I'd be tight with whatever girl I was dating at the time. Always friendly, never close.
Even senior year, when we sat close in calculus, it wasn't much more than casual chat. "How was your weekend?" "Can you believe that test?" "Going to the game Friday night?" I liked Alyssa, but I never thought of her as a great friend.
So when we ended up at the same college, I didn't even know it. Not until I ran into her on the quad, her lilting voice calling "Ethan, is that you?"
And there she was, sundress flowing slightly in the autumn breeze, bag slung over her shoulder. I was surprised, but smiled, happy to see an old face after a month of nothing but new ones. We hugged, both of us finding an anchor of familiarity hundreds of miles from home.
And yeah, she was cute as ever; even in high school, I'd noted how attractive she was. Thin, wide eyes like Taylor Swift's, a smile that crinkled them, and shoulder-length blonde hair she kept straight on top and wavy at the ends. The dress hung loose on her tall, thin frame, the soft slopes of her breasts giving it additional texture and the hint of cleavage at the edges of the collar. All long, elegant limbs, lacking in exaggerated curves but the hallmark of feminine beauty all the same.
But seeing her beauty wasn't the same as wanting her, not the desperate, youthful heat I'd had for others. Like I did for the current girl I was seeing, Sharon, who I'd met at freshman orientation, danced with, made out with, gone down on. Alyssa was a friend, not a lightning rod of passion like that.
Still, it was good to see her, to hug her, to feel like I was back home. That feeling was everything in that moment, and though we hadn't been super close before, I suddenly wanted nothing more than to have her back in my life. As a true friend.
So I asked if she was free to grab lunch. Not as a date or a move, just to spend some time getting to know her better.
We walked and talked to a sports bar nearby. No beer for two freshmen, but plenty of bar food and a booth to talk in. And talk we did, about the move, about how different the new city was, about how much we missed home. We talked about class, how weird it was to have roommates, what we'd expected college to be like. We talked about old times, realized how much we'd actually hung out, how much we had in common.
And then, all of sudden, there was a moment. I mentioned the time Nick Blazer had accidentally tripped into the fountain, and she let out a musical laugh and grabbed my arm. Even as she finished laughing, it stayed there, a slight bit of pressure from her grip. And then just a moment of silence, our eyes meeting across the table, and for what felt like the first time, I saw her. The deep hazel of her irises, sure, but... just her. And I think she saw me for the first time, too.
If the waitress hadn't come by with refills, I don't know that we ever would've stopped staring. But even as we returned to talking, the mood had shifted to something neither of us had expected. There was an energy, palpable and obvious if not yet spoken. Too much energy for just sitting and talking, so Alyssa jumped up, slight stutter in her voice as she suggested a game of pool. She'd never played, but maybe I could show her.
I followed her over, truly noticing how good she looked: the slight frame of her shoulders, the way the dress hung on her body, the sway of her hips. She asked questions about the game and I watched her lips, staring at the backs of her legs when she bent to strike. I don't know if she was really as bad as she seemed or just looking for an excuse, but that didn't matter to me when she asked for a more hands-on demonstration of a shot.
All I cared about was the chance to slide in next to her, to take her hands in mine as I guided them to proper position, to press against her back and lean with her as she lined up her shot. And when she nailed it, sinking the 9-ball like an old pro, she spun with joy and gave me a hug. We held each other tight and close, another long, intense moment of pure energy. She felt good and warm and wonderful, and I never wanted to kiss a girl more.
But I knew it wasn't like that. Even then, all I could think was "It's Alyssa, no way." So I pulled away, not sure where to go from here, and her arms caught me, held me close as she looked into my eyes and spoke.
"You want to come back to my room?"
We settled up and were gone. Our walk across campus was silent, but charged. A thousand thoughts ran through my head, what was happening, was this real, when did Alyssa get so sexy, what about Sharon, what did I really care about a girl I'd only dated for two weeks. But the thought that came through clearest was of her hand on my arm, our eyes locked, and how the promise of that moment was all I wanted to explore.
And as soon as we entered her room and the door shut behind us, it was clear that was her only thought, too. She was in my arms, hers around my neck as we kissed. It was all young passion, desperate, hungry kisses as we pushed to catch up on every missed moment. I held her at the small of her back, leaning her into the dorm room as I met her every kiss, danced my tongue around hers, enjoyed the heat and taste of her mouth.
It was everything. Exciting and electric in ways I'd never imagined, the feel of her hands under my shirt, the whispered exhalation of "Yes!" as I sucked at her neck, the tight press of our legs tangled together. I took her head in my hands, fingers in her straight-wavy hair as I kissed her deeply, truly.
Then, I picked her up, sweeping her lithe frame away from the door and to the small bed nearest to the door. She laughed - that astonishing laugh - and gestured wildly, her bed on the other side of the room. She didn't want to do that to her roommate, and that act of kindness just made me all the more infatuated. So to her bed it was, where I set her down and dropped into place on top of her.
Making out with her was heaven. We just knew what the other liked instinctively, our tongues and hands and grinding pelvises finding all the sweet spots. I was harder than I think I'd ever been against her, and her thigh rolled into it just right. I could feel the press of her nipples through the dress, her smaller breasts meaning she could get away without a bra. The energy of that first touch kept building, and it was clear we needed release.
So I finally went for it, sliding my hand slowly down between us.
A whimpering moan escaped her lips as my palm tweaked her nipple before she sucked hard at my neck. I enjoyed the rise and fall of her flat stomach, felt the radiating heat from her core, traced a finger along her thigh until I reached the hem of her dress. And then I was under it, tracing her thigh again but now feeling the smoothness of it, and moving upwards...
I stopped for a moment, long enough to ask if she was sure. She smiled, a sweetness cutting through all the sultry, and gave me a lighter kiss, then nodded. And it was back to looks of carnal delight as I pulled her panties aside and dipped two fingers inside of her. She bit her own hand, eyes tight as she stifled her moan as best she could. I did my best to ease in, slowly tracing back and forth along her entrance, wetting my finger with her essence and teasing at her clit. Then, when she seemed composed, I pressed further, two fingers plunging into her and curling. She tightened around me, a scream seemingly caught in her throat, then pushed me up, moving into a semi-sat up position as she went back to making out with me while bucking against my hand.
It wasn't the most comfortable position, but the pleasure more than made up for it, her tongue probing my mouth even as she kept whimpering in pleasure. I met her motions with thrusts, my fingers diving in and out of her as best as they could. For my part, I loved the feel of her, a tight, wet heat that seemed desperate to trap me inside of her. And I loved how she grabbed my free hand and brought it to her chest, desperately tugging her dress straps aside and exposing her breasts to me. I obliged her clear request, squeezing and massaging each breast in time with my thrusts and touches below. It was an awkwardly angled, unrefined embrace, but it was the best sexual experience of my life.
And then Alyssa grabbed me by the neck and pulled me in for a kiss. But it was less to actually kiss me and more to try and muffle the moan as her inner walls clamped hard on my fingers and she shuddered with an orgasm. I continued to play with her as best I could, teasing her nipple and clamping my fingers, doing everything to prolong her climax as her entire body pressed against mine. She was beauty and sex and desire in that moment, and I loved every bit of it.
