Michael is a very nice guy. I don't think he realizes it though. I know his girlfriend doesn't. She continually pushes him away and drags him back. He loves her but she treats him like dirt. Yes, I am infatuated with him, if you haven't noticed. I can't stand to see such a wonderful man be treated so badly. Stephanie's hardly a beauty queen either. Well, I guess she looks pretty good, if you like that type.
She's about 5'3" with long dark hair, grey eyes, and bushy eyebrows. Her boobs are huge though; I'd say she's a 36 DD, but that's it. She slides down from there—slim stomach, slim hips, slender legs. Her butt barely has a curve. I guess she looks like one of those perky little white sorority girls with really big boobs. Michael told me that she was different from girls that he normally dated. He started dating her because she was a sorority sister of his roommate, and now he loves her. Go figure.
No, I am not jealous of her. Not her body anyway. I hold my own physically. I'm about 5'6" with smooth brown skin. I have that nice black girl hourglass body with 38D breasts, a 30" waist, and 38" hips. My hair is in shoulder length braids, and I have brown eyes. Many guys pull up to me but like I said, I'm hooked on a blue-eyed, brown haired sweetheart.
He is in great shape. I find myself staring at the outline of his muscular chest and being wrapped in his strong creamy white arms when I should be listening to a lecture. I sit there imagining what that 6' frame would look like on top of me: those strong hands trailing over my body, that warm mouth nibbling and tasting me. Sometimes he catches me in one of my dazes and passes funny notes to me, which I, of course, react to vividly. He has gotten me in trouble several times for disturbing the class.
We met about a year ago when we both started taking classes in our college major. I was sitting at the end of the table digging through my purse as usual. He sat next to me and smiled with those perfect teeth showing. Halfway through the lecture he slid me a note that had a drawing of the professor as an executioner. Michael's head was on the chopping block. I had to choke back laughter to the point where my eyes started to tear up.
From that moment, I knew we would be close—maybe not as close as I would like—but close nonetheless. We became instant friends. We would sit together, eat lunch together, and study together. Professors and students became so accustomed to seeing us together that they would ask one of us where the other was. Even Stephanie had asked me where he was on several occasions.
I think I mentioned earlier that she is a bitch. (Yes, it's mean. I don't like her!) Well, one night Michael shows up at my doorstep in flannel pajama bottoms, no shirt and no shoes. I instantly regretted my shorts and t-shirt ensemble. Why didn't I dress sexier for sleep? Apparently, he and Stephanie had a fight, and he just walked out and drove to my place. He needed to talk to me.
"She can be so stubborn and mean sometimes," he said. "I don't know why I'm with her."
"You love her, right? That's why you're with her. People don't give up on love, especially not a sap like you."
"Yeah right. I didn't know where I was going. When I realized where I was, I was already knocking on your door. I'm sorry. You were probably asleep."
"Not really. I was flipping through TV channels. Do you want a beer?" I asked.
"You said the magic words." He threw himself across the couch. "Jayla, where's the TV?"
"I moved it into my room. I wanted to be comfortable while I watched it. I don't like falling asleep on the couch. Here you go." I handed him a beer.
"Thanks, I wanted to flip through. We can watch ice skaters fall on their asses. I need to laugh."
"You can come on in my room."
