I guess I intentionally drive myself nuts. I think about the things I can't have, and often crave them more than the ones in my possession. It sometimes gets the best of me.
I met Alison through mutual friends in the winter of my 19th year of life. She was a tad older than I, maybe 6 or 7 months, but not enough to really matter, or hurt my pride. She attended the same college as my best friend, about a half-hour from my home. I saw her a lot, well, often enough for the average person. She never seemed to say the wrong thing when we were around each other, she always had a good idea, and she smelled good. I took a liking to her rather quickly.
Oh, did I mention she was drop dead gorgeous? Well she was. Tall and sensuous in all of the right ways, she had a small sway to her hips; the kind that you hear of but never actually see. She had a smile that seemed to curl at the edges enticing you a little, and the most unfathomable gray eyes. Gray eyes with a touch of green to them that went deeper than could be expected. I think the real thing that beckoned me to her was the fact that she intriged me. I never knew what was coming next.
There was just one problem that kept me from asking her out the first time I saw her -- she had a boyfriend.
Some people don't cross a certain line. Cheating just happened to be my line, hers too. Instead of going out, we became good friends. I still liked her, but I held it in. I knew we couldn't go out, but I really liked her. It was hard not to. We were close though, telling each other things we couldn't tell anyone else. It was almost a relationship except for the fact we kept our respective differences.
She and her boyfriend were in a long distance relationship of the worst kind. She wanted to see him, and he wanted to see her, but it rarely happened, a weekend every 3 months or so. It was hell for the both of them.
I never really liked her boyfriend. It seemed to me he was always giving her a slight cold shoulder, saying things that got her a little pissed off when they were on the phone. She sometimes didn't notice, but I always did. He was disrespecting what I figured to be the best catch of a young woman you could find anywhere. I'd try to tell her, but she never heard it. Things went on like this for quite some time.
I'm a flirt, whether I want to be or not. It must be the Italian in me. I guess I'm good looking. I know I'm tall; 6'5" with dark blue eyes and short brown hair. I'm pretty buff from working in construction with my father over the years , but I'm no model. Alison and I always seemed to be flirting and laughing and smiling. We had a good connection; she knew I liked her. I think she exploited it a little, teasing me here and there, touching my leg, or keeping a close proximity to me, but all in good fun. Even with all of that, we were always a little nervous around each other, never knowing what to expect.
We were hanging out as usual, on a Saturday night, bordering on Sunday morning. We had been out partying together at the frat houses. Both of us were a little toasty. We wandering about the city in the direction of her apartment, smiling, and basking in the moonlight.
We walked in silence for a bit, just taking in the mid-spring weather. But silence kills me, and I began to talk for no reason.
"It's a nice evening, huh Ali?"
"Yeah it is. what do are we gonna do?" she replied a few moments later, smiling brightly at me as she always does.
"I have to be home eventually so we can't do too much."
She stopped in her tracks and lit up like you seldom see a girl do. "Well I sure as hell am not gonna let you drive anywhere, so why don't we go watch a movie at my place? The roomie's gone, so we can make lots of noise, and you've got the time, your curfew isn't for a couple of hours." This girl must be psychic.
She was right though, I was really in no condition to drive home, so I Immediately accepted her proposal, making her smile again.
The movie was bad -- some comedy that wasn't really funny. Actually their attempts to make us laugh were rather sad. I stepped in to my duty and made the movie funnier by heckling the hell out of it. Less than 30 minutes into the movie, we were rolling with laughter. We were having way too much fun for our own good until I realized I had to go home in a half-hour. Honestly, it was the last thing either of us wanted me to do, so I formed a plan in my now fading drunkenness.
***
"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line answered.
"Hi mom, it's Gabe. I know it's late, and I have to be home in an hour, but we're in the middle of a movie. Do you think I could just stay here tonight? My chores were done before I left" I made a point to do this, sometimes it helps for them to have no reason to make you come home. "I don't have to work tomorrow, but I can still make it home on time if you'd like."
I very seldom pray, but if I were on my knees at that moment, I'd have been a prophet.
"Well since you called, I guess I can let you stay tonight. Just be home tomorrow afternoon. OK, Honey?"
I almost fell. "Thanks mom! See you tomorrow!"
"Goodnight, son. Be good."
Booya!
Well who would have thought that she would say yes? I sure didn't. I hung up, plopped back on the couch next to Ali, and after a few moments of celebration between us, the heckling began again.
"Wanna smoke some pot?" This was a risk, but I had "acquired" some at the last frat house from a friend, and I knew she had smoked before, so what was the harm in asking? It wasn't like I had to go home, and the worst she could say was no.
"Sure" she giggled, "but I haven't done it in a while, so I'm probably gonna get wasted."
She winked, but I didn't pick up on it, to me it was just innocent.
I don't want to say I was a veteran pothead, but I had done it quite a few times. After a quick lecture on how not to get busted, I rolled a good-sized joint and we went out onto her fire escape -- or the balcony as she called it -- and puffed away our cares. About half way into it, she started to giggle. I did too. In fact, we were both stoned before we finished the joint, so I butted it. We just stood there for a while, looking at the sky, trying to find the stars above the city, and doing a horrible job, but having fun none the less.
"I hate standing up" I said in a hoarse, dry voice. I think it was from the cottonmouth. I don't know why I said it; maybe it it was break the forming tension. She was so close, close enough for me to feel the heat from her body, and smell the the levels of perfume and lotion that girls wear. She looked fabulous on this cool evening in a black halter-top, and those leather looking pants, tight and black. When she turned the right way, you could see the outlines of her underwear. Drop dead gorgeous.
"Yeah, me too," she said after a moment or two, getting ever so much closer. "It's such a nice night. We should get some chairs and chill on the balcony." Her voice had gotten softer, almost like a child when they ask questions of the utmost importance.