I was sitting in my office, reggae playing lightly from the computer speakers, my desk lamp aglow when the soft rapping sounded on my door. I looked towards it, a bit surprised. Though I had kept office hours the four years I’d been here, and posted my schedule on the door like clockwork at the start of every term, I rarely had anyone take advantage of them. Additionally, it was the end of spring term, the last day of final exams week, and there was hardly a soul on campus.
I closed the confidential file I had been reviewing and rose to answer the door.
“Will!” I exclaimed in surprise, and then schooled my face into a look of pleasant calmness; my stomach flip flopped once. “Hello, come in!”
I moved back and allowed him to pass me and walk into the small room before I shut the door. He grinned at me and my heart sped up just a bit. I collected myself quickly and resumed my place, swiveling my chair to face him.
“What can I do for you today?” I asked him. This man and I had flirted from the moment I met him. I worked in a small departmental study lab on campus that provided specialty software and the latest texts concerning urban planning. My job was user support, computer maintenance, employee satisfaction. He was a PhD student, and was in the lab several hours every day.
He cleared his throat and smirked at me. “I’m done, got my degree yesterday. So you won’t be seeing me here any more.” My heart dropped, and then he smiled.
God this man was gorgeous. Easily 6’2”, very toned body, he was a bike commuter, rode six miles a day, and he was assistant coach for some high school football team. There was a smattering of dark hair on his arms, curling lightly over his sports watch band. I looked up at his eyes. Some would call them hazel, but I knew they were actually honey brown with swirls of bright green through out. I realized I should probably say something.
“That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” I smiled back at him. He was leaving, and I’d never see him again. Never get to take surreptitious looks at him across the room, watching him while he worked. Never get to lean over him and smell him while I helped him figure out something on the computer, never see him eat another apple. The way he eats an apple, all voraciously, using tongue and teeth alike to coerce bits of the fruit into his mouth, sucking at the juices and then licking first the apple then his lips to make sure he got it all; it should be charge for admittance to that show.
“What will you do?” My outer poise was excellent. I knew from experience, men like him don’t date women like me. I’m a little plump; I suppose we call it “curvaceous” these days. I’m not fat, but I definitely have hips and breasts and a little extra to grab onto. I’m pretty, I suppose, but I don’t wear makeup because my skin is too sensitive, and I have a dry patch on the right side of my chin, just below my lips. It’s a little irritating; if I scrub it with my fingers and then moisturize, the skin is flaking within two hours. If I scrub it with a wash cloth it gets all red and raw, and the moisturizer burns. I should probably get that checked out. I used to keep my hair short, shaving it every summer and letting it do what it would through the following year. Then a friend of mine dared me to try to grow it out, go as long as I could. Consequently, I always have a bun, or a ponytail, or two buns “Princess Leia” style. I usually wear khakis and t-shirts, or khaki skirts and t-shirts, with sweaters on the cold days. And Converse or hiking boots, depending on the weather; no high heels for me, thank you.
Put bluntly, I’m a geek, a book nerd. Guys like him - smart, popular, charming, attractive, athletic - guys like him flirt with girls like me because we are clever and safe. We always have a witty comeback to their terrible lines, we can flatter and insult in a single comment, and they like having that stimulation. But guys like him date girls like Maria, the girl I’d seen him with several times: petite, makeup, blond highlights, trendy clothes and stiletto boots, expensive perfume - beautiful and flirty and obsequious. Girls like me don’t accommodate, and we certainly don’t fawn.
“I don’t know, actually. I have several resumes out, and the interviews look promising. The job market is pretty bad right now, however. I’ll actually be moving back in with my mother for a bit, until I can find some work.” He let out a little self-deprecating laugh at that, and my eyebrows rose in question.
“I’m thirty years old and I’ve just finished my PhD in city planning, and I’m moving back in with my mother. It just seems odd.” Then he smiled that smile at me again.
“Well, you could find work in one of the smaller towns, those that are only a couple of hours away. To get some experience, you know? Then come back and look again,” I offered helpfully.
“No,” he said sharply, “I won’t leave the city.”
I was a bit surprised by his outburst, and I think he noticed because he continued, his tone a bit softer.
“I tried it once, it didn’t go very well. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again.”
His face had grown dark, thoughtful and forlorn. In an instant, the look was gone. He grinned at me conspiratorially.
“What will you do, now that I’m leaving? You won’t have me around any longer to brighten your day. I’ll bet you’ll be all woebegone and temperamental. I have always been a calming influence for women.”
I chuckled a bit. “God, you’re such an ass, Will. Who taught you to be so wonderfully cocky?”
“My mother spoiled me rotten. But she’s a saint, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. Besides, I’m much more popular with my attitude. The ladies love the confident man.”
“The ladies? I thought there was just the one. Weren’t you and she all hot and heavy?” I kept my tone light, teasing.
He frowned. “Who...Maria? No, she was just a bit of fun. Someone to pass the time with, go out with. Physically we complemented each other well. I broke it off several months ago.”
“And broke her heart in the process, I bet.” I couldn’t help but scowl a bit. Guys like him were always breaking women’s hearts.
“She knew what we were together. She’s back in Mexico now, anyhow; probably breaking some other guy’s heart.”
That’s right; I had heard him speaking Spanish tentatively and shyly on the phone one day, the conversation ending with a hasty “Te amo”.
I cleared my throat. We were in dangerous waters. He and I had never been close; we’d just enjoyed a little light flirtation. You know, just a look, a smile, a little hip bumping, and several laughs. The days when he would reach out and wrap his fingers around my wrist, and then make some thoroughly disparaging comment about one of the other students, or professors, or somebody on the bus -- those were the days my heart stopped for just a moment. That was intimate contact for someone who hadn’t been in a relationship for years.
“So, did you just come by to say goodbye then, Will? I mean, I hate to rush you off, but I was just in the middle of finishing some files, and my office hours are over in ten minutes.” I smiled blandly. If he was going to be out of my life, it was best to cut this short. I didn’t need to know anything more about him than I already did. I didn’t need to learn more things about his life, his personality, his past. He tortured me enough as it was, with as little as I knew.
“Oh, yeah, I just wanted to come and say goodbye. We’ve spent a lot of time together. I’ve often looked forward to coming into the lab if it meant I might see you. It always made my day. So, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you.” Then he grinned that grin at me, and I tried to put that wall back up around my heart, but it was proving damn near impossible. So instead, I smiled some stupid grin at him, pleased that he had looked forward to seeing me these past years, in any context.
“So that’s it then, you never have to return to the campus again. You’re a free man, Will. Go, be amongst others who are free, I give you leave!” God, I am such a dork.
“Yeah,” he said, and then sucked in a quick breath. “There is just one thing I haven’t done yet on this campus, one thing I have always wanted to do before I left.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I asked, thinking he might be wanting to return to some odd teenage fantasy and toilet paper the deans office, or graffiti the bathroom wall, or any number of inane things we sometimes feel the urge to do, even if we are all grown up.
“This,” he said softly, and then he reached out his hand, and traced his thumb across my cheekbone, wrapped his fingers around the back of my head, and his hand slowly slid its way down so that his fingers were resting on the nape of my neck and his thumb was sitting just in front of my earlobe.
“Uh,” I said as I closed my eyes in response. I couldn’t help it. I felt his fingers apply a light pressure on my neck, and I opened my eyes again. There were those honey brown and green eyes, less than two feet away, looking directly into my own. My breath caught in my throat.
“Will,” I started to protest. Girls like me don’t get involved with guys like him because we always end up hurt. I had learned this the hard way; I didn’t need a refresher course.
His thumb started stroking lightly back and forth across my cheek as he studied my face.
“My mom has always been a natural beauty,” he whispered. “She never worries about her appearance, never worries about how she may look to others. She enjoys comfort. She enjoys intelligence, and wit, and philosophy. And she always told me that I could enjoy as many of those flashy women as I wanted, but that I would be miserable if I married one of them. She always said to play as much as I wanted, learn as much as I could about pleasing a woman, and then find myself someone as quick and intelligent as myself to be serious about; or else I was dooming myself to slow torture.”
His words had been accompanied by his other hand coming up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my cheek bone and then my jaw as his fingers found purchase on the back of my neck, meeting the first hand to go there. Now both thumbs were stroking my cheek and those gorgeous eyes were looking into my own, watching me for any response, and I didn’t think I could deal with it. I shut my eyes and let out a breath.
“I’ve been watching you, these four years I’ve been here. I have paid particular attention to you, because there is something about you that is amazing. This spark, a flame, I don’t know what you call it. And your smile can light up a room, not the one you give people when you thank them for coming in, but that real one, the one that only shows up when something truly touches your soul. You’re funny, and humble, and brilliant. And your voice shakes me down to my toes. And then when you let out that low chuckle of yours my gut curls up and I think about taking you anywhere private just so I can have my way with you. And I think, I am not completely sure, but I think you feel something too.”
Slowly, ever so slowly I felt him lean in close to me, and then I felt his breath against my cheek, teasing the loose hairs at my temple, before he whispered even softer, his voice even deeper, almost husky and yet ever so tentative, “Do you?”
And that hot puff of air was enough to make me let out a little gasp, my eyes opened, and I think I may have whimpered, just a bit.
“I...I,” I stuttered.
“Oh, thank God,” he said, and then placed his lips ever so lightly against mine, the meeting soft, and chaste, and warm. And then he mumbled against my lips, “Women like you are so intimidating, so sure of yourselves, so brilliant. Though we have spent the last several years flirting, I kept telling myself that women like you don’t date men like me; we’re not intelligent enough, not talented enough, and not strong or convicted enough to keep you interested. I was so afraid you were just playing with me, enjoying witty banter from a pretty boy...I was so scared you’d reject me.”
And then he pulled back just enough so that our eyes could meet, and I finally saw open adoration, respect, and lust. Good God, the man found me just as attractive as I found him.
“Will,” I started in protestation.
“Shh,” he said softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at me, “Let’s just see where this goes...”
And then he kissed me again, this time firmer, more intimately, his lips moving over mine, cocking his head slightly to get a better angle.
“Will,” I said again, pulling back a little and trying to calm my breathing, “Guys like you don’t date girls like me.”
“No,” he said, softly, one thumb moving forward to stroke lightly at my bottom lip as his eyes watched that same part. Then he looked up, looked into my eyes, his thumb still caressing my lip.
“We marry them.”