Chapter 1 -
This story takes place when I was in my first year of Uni. N. and I met 2 years before I met my wife, and we get along like best friends do. She was already in a relationship when we met, and I also get along with her now husband. While we have kind of lost contact over the years, whenever we communicate nothing has changed. She is easily one of my best friends in the world and I love her dearly. Nothing has ever happened between us and never will, but it could have if I had taken what I now see as the clear invitation that is described below. I recognised it at the time to some extent, but took myself out of the situation both because she was in a relationship and because I was too nervous about sex to act on it. The point where this story becomes fiction is where I return after initially leaving her room - the truth is I got on the bus and jerked off in the shower at home.
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Sitting in my first class at uni was a strange experience for me. I was full of confidence in the changes I was planning to make in my life coming out of high school but was still a social wreck on the inside. I was tall, skinny, and had brown, curly, mid-length hair. In addition to this, not that anybody knew it then, I am reasonably well-endowed - definitely not a catch, but looking back at old photos now, not bad looking.
I arrived early out of nerves and took a seat near the front. I nervously made small talk with my old, eccentric Italian teacher (who I later grew to adore) and waited for the unknown entity that was my classmates to arrive. They gradually filed in, but I did the British thing of not making eye-contact with any of them out of respect/fear.
There were a few women that were very attractive, but most in the room seemed to be regular looking people. Just as the class was about to begin, a blur of long red hair came bursting through the door, apologising for her lateness in a wonderful, posh, country British accent. She sat next to me with a cursory, “sorry, do you mind” - I definitely did not mind.
One thing that has always driven me crazy is a red head. I grew up with a major crush on early Hayley Williams at her most punk and that fetish has never changed in me. I took a closer look at her - slightly tanned skin, with long, messy ginger hair and a beautiful, slightly freckled face. She wore a baggy, brown jumper and regular jeans and trainers, giving me no indication of what she looked like underneath it all, but immediately I wanted to find out.
The class came and went. We had spoken a little during it, but I didn’t learn anything about her. The next day we had another class and she arrived earlier. In the meantime, I had gotten to know a taller, metal-loving rugby player called John, who would go on to become my friend throughout uni and beyond, and we were sitting and talking about things that metal-heads talk about, when she sat on the other side of me. We were later joined by Max, a small, thin, socially awkward nerd who just wanted to fit in with somebody, and there we were - our little clique that would define my first year at uni. We strengthened our bond with pool, drinks at the student bar, and nights out at the local clubs - something that is still a very awkward experience for me but was made enjoyable by her presence.
Over the course of the semester my friendship with John became what it is today - very strong, as did my connection, and interest in, N. I spent as much time with her as possible and we grew close. I learned that she had a boyfriend who lived somewhere else, that she was British, but had only recently moved back to the UK after living in Spain for the previous few years. We had almost nothing in common in terms of interests and hobbies but got along like a house of fire and I thought about her constantly.
There were some issues with our clique - I did not get along with Max and saw him for the leech that he would later prove himself to be, but N. took pity on him and befriended him. N. did not get along with John because of his rough exterior and awkward manner, but I saw the person inside. Despite all of this, N. and I continued to get closer and closer. As we got closer, we began talking about more personal issues. She managed to prise from me that I was a virgin, and that I had no idea how to speak to women. She confided in me that she was constantly worried her boyfriend was cheating on her and that she had recently been feeling as though he was no longer attracted to her. In a video chat she had had with him where she tried to turn him on by stripping for him, he had brushed her off, saying he was too busy. She thought he was no longer interested in seeing her naked. I told her he was crazy if he didn’t want her. I wasn’t planning on that comment having any impact on her other than to make her feel better about herself, but it sure did.
She lived in the poshest of the student accommodation options - the one I had no way of affording. One day she invited us all to visit for drinks and games. John graciously declined with a “no, thanks”, but Max and I accepted. I wanted to spend more time with her and was genuinely interested in seeing how the “other half” lived. Max and I arrived at the same time, laden with alcohol and making awkward small talk (as was our normal) and she met us wearing her usual baggy, American-style branded jumper, yoga trousers, and the pair of eco-friendly, over-priced shoes she liked showing off to me. We got a tour of the common room, with N. introducing us to a few of her friends there before taking us to her bedroom. It was as quaint as quaint can be, and very her. There was a pin board adorned with dried flowers and pictures of her smiling with friends from elsewhere, star shaped lights had been attached to the walls, and her bed was covered with a white and pink flowery bed cover. The wardrobe was half-open, showing that she owned way too many clothes, despite seemingly only ever wearing the same few baggy jumpers and jeans.