Author's note:
This story may seem a little slow to those who are accustomed to love making up front, but if you are patient and seep past the first few pages you'll learn that this story holds more than fucking, but of a grown passion from two of the most unlikely people. I have tried to make these two characters believable and more than one-dimensional fillers, and it is my hope that they are multidimensional characters that have feelings and thoughts that everyday victims of lust have. I hope, but I do fear my hope is naive, that people will embrace my story and disregard the fact that the two main characters share a different race and political ideology, which in my opinion is more important than race. Perhaps one day, when my writing improves I will be able to spin this short tale into a full-length novel, and truly allow the characters to come to life, I look forward to your comments.
Ryan was twenty-two years old and in his final year at the university, which of course he was thankful for. There would be no fifth year for him, Ryan made sure of that. How disgraceful would it be for him to be a fifth year student? Surely, not Ryan who had always been a model student, never the geek, but always the model student because that was the way that Ryan was raised to be, and at six feet two a hundred and eighty pounds Ryan was your typical all American boy. He had grey eyes and thick straight coal black hair that fell into his eyes. Many girls considered him extremely handsome, and Ryan himself knew he was good-looking, and used it as an advantaged.
"And what do you think about gun control and the Second Amendment, Lauren?" asked the beady-eyed professor who was pacing the half-empty classroom.
Ryan already knew what she was going to say because he knew what all girls, or people for that matter, like her would say. He had heard Lauren argue cases plenty times to know that she would always take the liberal platform, and frankly he was sick of all the liberal bias propaganda that he constantly heard from all the liberal pukes that seemed to know nothing different from what Hillary and the Dixie Chicks told them.
Through his own political isolation, Ryan had developed a sort of game where he would try, almost successfully, to pinpoint what a person would say and how they would argue their weak case. This was just another stupid girl with more opinions than needed, and Ryan figured that she would probably start her sentence by saying guns were bad, and often he guessed the correct response because he had a knack for seeing people past their surface.
Take for instance the Goth girl seated next to him on the right. She was heavy set, with dyed greasy black hair and dirty blonde roots. According to her fat pig-like chin that resembled a pink rubber tire, her makeup was about three shades too light; the Goth girl was wearing a weird collection of long dark drapery and laced up platform boots. Ryan figured the girl did not get enough attention as a child thus her now need to seek attention from the world, whether the attention she gathered was negative or positive. He thought she probably was disgusted by her own looks, as everyone else probably was, so she chose to hide every attempt to soften her looks because she did not want anyone feeling sorry for her or thinking she felt sorry for herself.
Shifting further back into his seat, Ryan brought his attention back to Lauren, who was seated four rows down from him and a few seats to the right. Lauren, hunched in her seat, with a half irritated half-amused look on her face that clearly read she was not amused with being called on. Shrugging her shoulders, Lauren leaned up in her desk and frowned slightly as she took her eyes off the notebook that had previously held her attention.
Her legs were stretched out and by the lengths of them, it was clear she was tall. She had a slightly slender figure, and with smooth cocoa skin was the only black person in the class. Lauren had deep wide snapping light brown eyes that seem to take up her whole face, her hair, black and wavy, reached past her shoulders in pools of darkness, but out of everything a person could find attractive about her, Ryan thought her eyes were her true beauty.
Everything about Lauren was darkness, her long blue-black hair that fell in pools of shimmering dark waves, her smooth cocoa skin that looked as though silk would never be a friend for fear of stolen business, her closed persona that never gave way to what was going on inside, but her eyes were a different story. Lauren's eyes were light, large, and round. Her eyes seemed to glow as a porch light would on a darken street corner, but her eyes never betrayed her; they did not give away secrets, they acted as sponges, observing but never releasing until wrung out by something strong and powerful.
She was definitely attractive, in a hippy sort of way, but the lip ring in the corner of her mouth and the black rimmed glasses were not appealing to him, he did not go for that type. With loose fitting light blue jeans with holes in the knees, a grey too small t-shirt that read, Never Bluff a Donkey with a picture of a laughing donkey in the center she was reasonably dressed for a college student.
'She must play poker,' thought Ryan.
"The constitution," she stated in a bored voice, still hunched in her chair she continued, "reads that the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed, meaning citizens have the right to own guns with out fear of that right being taken from them."
Even though it was a very simple break down and interpretation of the Second Amendment, Ryan, thoroughly shocked by her answer, leaned forward in his seat to get a closer view of Lauren, who it seemed, he was really looking at for the first time. Ryan found himself listening thoughtfully to what she saying, and for the first time in a long time Ryan let go of his stereotypical views of his classmate, and openly listened to what his classmate had to say.
"Does this mean that every single citizen has the right to own a firearm without regulation?" she continued in the same careless tone, "No, it does not because nowhere in the second amendment does it mention what type of regulations can be placed on the owning of firearms. With every right comes responsibility, and responsibility should only be given to those who prove they are responsible, and thus, restriction is an important factor in gun control."
Leaning up in her seat and finally looking at the professor she said a little more aggressively, "I believe reglation, gun regulation should be left up to the state," and she slumped back in her chair and continued to doodle.
"Very well said Lauren," said the pacing professor who looked as though he should be holding a pipe, "but I'm afraid there will be no room for a counter argument today because we've once again run out of time."
Before turning back to his podium the beady-eyed professor with his tweedy jacket turned to the class and added, "Remember to check the class website to see who you'll be partnered up with for the project that's due in four weeks. Remember this project accounts for fifty percent of your grade, cheers."
It was the end of the day and Ryan was with his best mate Jake eating his last meal of the day before he called it a night. The sky was a deep blue and the cold wind slapped against his cheeks causing them to turn red. Jake and Ryan had decided to sit outside the small dingy Italian joint that they frequently ate at because they both were outdoorsmen and preferred cold fresh air over manufacture warm stale air.
"My class seems to be filled with a bunch of brainless idiots," said Ryan, "Though, there is one girl who doesn't quite fit into the loop; still, with time I'm sure she will."
"You're such a pompous ass," his friend replied, laughing.
Taking his fork he scooped up a bit of the pasta before saying, "Not a pompous ass." Cramming the food in his mouth he continued, "An honest ass possibly, but certainly not a pompous ass."
"Ah, but pompous by definition is a synonym for arrogant and you certainly do display a high level of arrogance," Jake said shaking his head so that his blond curls danced in his eyes.
"Pompous, is not a synonym for arrogant, the two are not interchangeable. A pompous person more than often is arrogant, where as an arrogant person does not at all have to be pompous."
"My man," said Jake rolling his eyes dramaticly, "you're missing my point."
"Perhaps I am," Ryan said with a bit of uncertainty, "but let us assume I am pompous, it still would be well placed."
Putting down his fork Ryan picked up his water and took a long gulp before saying, "I'm figuring that I'm allowed to make mindless observations considering I'm judged for being one of the few conservatives on this campus."
Picking up his fork again he continued, "And as a political minority my opinions are often disregarded which would drive any sane person into ..." searching for the right word Ryan waved his hand in the air and finished disconcertingly, "discontent."
"Oh my, is this a pity party that you're throwing for yourself, Ryan?" his friend asked with a smirk on his face.
