I've always had an eye for talent. I'm a lifelong Patriots fan, and I'll tell anyone who'll listen that I was early in recognizing greatness in Tom Brady, even when he was a nobody -- a sixth-round draft pick from University of Michigan. And it wasn't just sports. As a teen, I'd helped my dad restore an old Chevelle that more than one person said we should commit to the junkyard.
Well, we all know Brady led the Pats to six Super Bowls, and for the record, I still drive that Chevelle and you wouldn't believe how that engine purrs. Anyway, this is all to say that I sensed Anne had that same level of untapped potential when I first met her.
Now, I don't think Anne was largely overlooked because she was ugly. Far from it -- she was a knockout. Half Asian, half white --her body was killer, with an ass she'd sculpted over the course of an illustrious volleyball career. But above all, I was drawn to her kind smile and the beautiful, distinct features that complimented it.
None of that was the problem. It was that she didn't know how to use it. She was sexless. Some would say repressed -- a total, utter prude. Despite my strong attraction to her, I knew myself -- knew my strong appetites -- and could sense that it would never work between us. So I tried to forget her. What else could I do? All the same, I found my attention coming back to her again and again. And again. Thinking, with the right touch, she could purr just like that Chevelle.
It was the end of my first semester of my master's program when everything changed. I was finished with my classes until they picked back up in January, and I was bored. I had decided to stay on campus over break and was, frankly, regretting the decision. Most of my friends had left, and I found myself most days wandering the campus, looking for ways to occupy my time. It was on one of those long, rambling walks that I ran into Anne -- Ms. Repressed herself.
"Jake!"
I was walking through the quad, coffee in hand, when I heard her yell after me. I turned around to see her jogging toward me. She was wearing a thick winter coat and big clunky boots, a large gym bag that was almost and big as her hoisted on her shoulder. Not that I could blame her considering it was the dead of winter, but, if I'm being honest, it reinforced that I had the right idea about her. There was no way I, or anybody else, was getting through any of the five layers of clothes she had on, and I was best served by not trying. All the same, I did like her as a person and saw no reason to be rude.
"How's it going?" We gave each other a brief, awkward hug.
"I thought you'd be home on break by now," she said.
"Decided to stick it out on campus," I said.
She nodded at this, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Listen," she said, "if you've got nothing else going on, you should come to the game," she said, flashing that big, kind smile of hers. I hesitated. As bored as I was, the idea of sitting through a volleyball game didn't do much for me. I took a sip of coffee while I tried to think up an excuse. Before I could respond, she doubled down.
"C'mon," she said, punching my arm in a playful way that might've seemed flirtatious from somebody else, but seemed somehow totally platonic from Anne. "What else are you going to do?"
That's how I found myself sitting on the stands 10 minutes later, alone except for a smattering of fans whose enthusiasm could best be described as muted. A half hour passed, and I had just decided to leave when the teams started to take the court. All thoughts of leaving were pushed from my mind. There was Anne in the shortest shorts I had ever seen. Make no mistake, she wasn't the only woman out there with talent, but she was different. Like Helen of Troy, her ass could've launched a thousand ships. It was right there and then that I decided I was going to fuck her. Whatever it took.
The game kicked off, and I stood to applaud, drawing a couple looks from the bored crowd.
--
"What'd you think?" Anne said. The game had ended, and I'd waited outside the gym until she came out. Her eyes had lit up and she'd ran toward me when she saw me waiting. This time, the winter coat did nothing to dampen my enthusiasm -- all I could think about was her body underneath it. Her potential.
"You were incredible," I said. I would've said it anyway, but it happened to be the truth. While she might be meek off the court, on it Anne was like a different person -- barking out orders to her teammates, diving for impossible shots that I thought were a lost cause, only to somehow pull them out.
"You're sweet," she said.
We left the building together, bracing against the cold. A few short minutes later we were standing outside her apartment building.
"Well, thanks so much for walking me back," Anne said. There was something in the way she said it that made it feel like more of a platitude.
"Dangerous area?"
Anne rolled her eyes and blow warm air into her hands to warm them up. "No, nothing like that. Just boy trouble -- I won't bore you with the details."
My heart started beating just a little bit faster, as though I were picking a safe with a stethoscope and had just heard one click of the lock mechanism. There was a long way to go to open the safe, but with that little click, there was a glimmer of hope. An opening. An opportunity to swoop in after some idiot fumbled the ball. "You couldn't possibly be more boring than my empty apartment," I said.
Anne laughed nervously. "It's cold, you should get inside."
"Probably," I said. "So are you going to invite me up?"
If Anne wasn't already red in the face from cold, she was now. But underneath the flustered exterior, I thought I sensed the slightest bit of grin. She was flattered. Excited even. I imagined that lock giving another satisfying click.
Anne apologized for the state of her apartment as she opened the door, but predictably, it was spotless. It was clear everything she owned has a designated space, and all of her things were where they were supposed to be.
"Beautiful spot you've got here," I said, and I wasn't lying. It was bright with a beautiful view of campus.
"Thank you!" Anne called from the small kitchen off the living room. "Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?"
"Tea would be great. Thanks." A few moments later she came out with two steaming mugs and set one of them down on the coffee table in front of my overstuffed chair. She then took a spot on the sofa across from me, cradling her mug in her hands.
"So, how're classes going?" she asked.
"Good," I said, nodding slowly. "But you're changing the subject."
"Oh gosh," she said, waving her hand as if to rid of the matter like an irksome fly. "It's nothing."
"It must be something if you're grateful for an escort home," I said.
She nodded slowly at this, seeing the truth of it. "There's this guy I was seeing. Not even that serious. I broke it off recently, and he's having trouble accepting it's over." She glanced over and saw the mix of concern and annoyance on my face. "It's not that I think he would do anything!" she said in a rush.
I nodded.
"It's just that I could see him waiting outside my building. That type of thing." To fill the awkward silence, Anne went to sip her tea. It was still piping hot, and she pulled away.
"He sounds like an asshole."
"He's harmless," she said.
I picked up my own tea and blew on it for a moment, trying to judge how forward I could be. "What happened between you two?"
"That's a whole different stone that you don't want to turn over," she said. "Trust me."
"You're underestimating my interest in you." She shot a glance and me before turning her attention back to her mug. I felt sure she hadn't missed the compliment. "And how bored I've been these last few days," I said.
She laughed softly, then thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "He was an asshole. Not much more to it than that."
"Assholes come in all shapes and sizes," I said. "Speaking from experience."
She laughed once more then -- before I could register what had happened --she was on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Was it something I said?"
Anne shook her head, offering a wordless apology as she fought back tears.
I took a spot next to her on the sofa, putting my arm around her as I did so. She buried her head into my shoulder, and I patted her gently on the back. We sat like that for a few minutes before she pulled back, teary eyed.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be," I said. "Can I make a suggestion?"
She nodded.
"Do you have anything stronger than tea?
She gave a watery laugh at that and nodded. "I have some wine by the stove." I got up and went to the kitchen.
"Glasses?" I called to the living room.
"Cupboard beside the fridge!"
I returned to the living room, wine bottle and glasses in hand. Anne had wiped her eyes, and her polite smile was back in full force. I twisted off the cap, poured us two generous glasses of wine.
"What should we drink to?"
"To good men," she said, looking at me in the eye. "There are still some of you out there after all."
Before I knew it, the sun was setting outside her window. If the late hour was hard to believe, it was still a secondary surprise to what had occurred in the time we had spent on her couch: I had come to really like Anne. I didn't just like her as an acquaintance or want to sleep with her -- I wanted more. With each passing minute I'd found that she wasn't vanilla at all. A little reserved? Maybe. But my instincts -- my eye for potential -- had been more on the mark than I'd ever imagined.
"What's on your mind?" she said, nudging me softly.
"Nothing," I said.
