CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(79)

I have to find Abby, so I can tell her I'm going back to the Yardley  campus. I feel like I don't belong here. I also have to call a cab.

I walk into the living room. A guy dances like a wild man, throwing  himself crazily around on the cleared floor space. He crashes into me,  his arms flailing. I stumble back and splash the beer on my jeans.

I try to find my way to a bathroom for a towel.

I find a door I'm sure leads to a bathroom and open it.

Oh God. There's a girl sitting on the toilet lid with her skirt pushed  up and a guy is on his knees in front of her. Her high-heeled shoes rest  on his shoulders. Her eyes are closed, she's moaning in pure pleasure,  and his face is under her skirt.

I'm completely embarrassed, and I stumble back, pulling the door shut.  My heart races and I'm breathing fast enough to hyperventilate. I don't  think they noticed me, so I don't know why I feel so tense and awkward.

Potentially because I never dated in high school, I am still a virgin,  and since I turned eighteen I've been feeling more frustrated about  that-         

     



 

Then I see him.

There are some guys you never get over and you never forget. That's what  Trey Madison is to me. He's the crush I had since I was in Grade Seven.  Total and complete desire for him has burned in my heart ever since.  However, I was invisible to him.

It should be different now that I'm no longer in high school. I should be able to go up to him. Say hi. Talk to him.

But I can't. My tongue actually feels numb. There's a huge pain in my  chest. My heart feels as if nerves and fear are smacking it like a stick  against a piñata.

Trey staggers to the side and slams into the wall. Then laughs and sucks back his beer.

He's drunk.

Now I'm worried about Trey. As he walks into the living room, I follow him. Just to watch out for him. He could pass out.

He stops, leaning against the wall, turns around and looks right at me. I  should say something. Act surprised, as if I just happened to be there  and recognized him. But I just stare at his beautiful grey-blue eyes  helplessly.

"Hi," he says.

"Uh," is what comes out of my mouth.

He walks away from me. Because who wouldn't after my scintillating attempt at conversation?

Trey heads for the stairs and I stand by the wall, cursing myself.

What was I doing? I was so hopeless. I could have had what I'd dreamed  of since I first hit puberty. I could have talked to him. Maybe, maybe I  could have even ended up kissing him.

If I were still the same person I was in high school, I would retreat right now since I was super awkward and shy.

But I'm eighteen, too old to be a coward anymore. To be stymied by what people think or what they might say.

I set my beer down on the floor by the wall and take off the hoodie.  Gazing in the mirror in the downstairs hall, I try fluffing my hair. I  can't manage a transformation like Jamie Curtis in True Lies, where she  rips the ruffles off her dress, slicks back her hair with water from a  vase, and is suddenly sexy. But I look better. Sort of hot. Abby's  T-shirt clings to my breasts and makes me look very curvy.

I want to kiss Trey. I want to know what it would be like. If I don't go  for it, I'll never know. He goes up the stairs but he stops on the  landing halfway up. I catch up to him since I'm almost running up the  steps. He looks at me with surprise.

I start to give him an abbreviated wave, then put my hand down at my  side. I brush my hair back. "Hi Trey, I remember you from high school.  We went to the same one."

"Yeah? Don't remember you."

"I'm Claire." I swallow hard. Once I give him the full name, he will  remember who I am and how much I was teased. "Claire Thomas."

He still stares blankly. He has no memory of me at all.

Yes, I was invisible. But that gives me a clean slate.

I step close to him, look up at him through my lashes. I have no idea how to flirt. "Uh-do you want to dance? Downstairs?"

He looks at me like I asked him to shave his head. "No."

Okay. So what do I do now? I have no idea what to say to Trey. "Do you  remember when you won the last football game of the season?"

"Yeah."

I need more than a one word answer. "What's your major?"

"Economics."

He takes a step away.

"Wait." It comes out before I think.

He stops.

I had nothing prepared to say. Summoning all my courage, I lick my lips.  I step forward and clasp his hand. "Uh … do you want to kiss?"

I can't believe I did that.

He grins. Then he backs me against the wall on the stair landing. He's  still holding the beer. But with his other hand he braces his hand on  the wallpaper and leans close to me. My legs are turning to jello. Trey  Madison's mouth is almost touching mine. This is my fantasy position  from seventh and eighth grades. I would close my eyes in math class and  imagine I had the desk beside Trey's, and he would lean over to ask me a  question and our mouths would be almost touching. By the end of grade  eight, I began to fantasize about an actual kiss. I would dream that we  got overwhelmed with desire in the middle of math and he gave me this  long, sensual, open-mouthed kiss in front of everyone.

Almost every night for six years, I dreamed of kissing Trey.

It could happen now.

All I have to do is go for it.

I tip my face up and go to kiss him. Except he sways on his feet just as  I lift on my toes. He moves a couple of inches to the left and I hit my  teeth against his. I purse my lips and try to find his mouth. He's  moving unsteadily, which makes it hard to keep our mouths connected. I  try to put my arm around his neck and accidently hit him.

Desperate, I put my hands to his jaw so I can keep him steady. Now I can  kiss him. I soften my lips, open my mouth, and try to use my tongue to  tease his.

Trey tastes of alcohol and smoke and I thought that combination would  prove to be a lot sexier than it is. Actually, it's fairly disgusting.

I keep trying, hoping it's going to get better.

But he pulls back and straightens. "Thanks, Kelly. See you around."

He's goes up the steps, moving away from me.

"It's Claire," I call after him.

"Yeah. See you later, Claire."

Gripping the banister, he hauls upstairs. I don't follow him.

My kiss has scared him away. He's drunk. But even blotto, he is not  interested. I screwed up the kiss I always dreamed of having.

He's gone and my whole fantasy has evaporated like smoke. Why couldn't I  do it? He didn't know anything about me-didn't remember I was geeky in  high school.

Maybe I could have seduced him if I knew what to do.

He did say, "See you later." He didn't say that he never wanted to set  eyes on me again. Maybe, if I could learn how to be seductive and  enticing-learn how to kiss properly-I could have Trey.

Just like I dreamed.



At lunch on Monday, in the residence cafeteria, I am brooding over my vegetarian pizza slice.

Logic tells me that if a guy likes me, he's going to enjoy how I kiss.  And he should be patient enough to teach me if he wants something  different.

After all, would I kick a guy I liked to the curb if he didn't please me  in bed? I assume-if I were ever in the situation-I would see sex as  something to work on together. If I like him, I'm going to want to make  love to him over and over, until we get it right.

I'm so frustrated that when my roommate, Abby, asks me what's wrong, I  actually say, "Do you think it's possible to pay someone to teach you  how to kiss and please a guy?"

There's silence and she looks at me over the rim of her coffee mug. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry. It's nothing." At least she and I are eating alone, and I haven't embarrassed myself in front of more people.

Abby looks sympathetic. "Did someone dump you?"

"No, no one dumped me because I'm not dating anyone." I sigh. I suppose  I've dug enough of a hole that I have to deal with it. I have to explain  what I meant. "At the frat party last night, I saw the guy of my dreams  from high school. The guy I've adored from afar since Grade Seven. He  was drunk and I kissed him on the stairs." I put my hand over my mouth.  "It sounds terrible when I say it that way. He was consenting. It wasn't  like he was passed out and I took advantage and planted one on him."

Abby smiled. "I didn't think so. So who is this guy?"

"Just a guy." I don't want to admit who, in case Abby knows Trey and  laughs at me. I admitted to a crush once in my life, in high school, and  the amount of teasing I received was mortifying.

"Claire, why would you want to pay someone to kiss you?"

I blush. "I don't have a lot of kissing experience, and he didn't seem too impressed."

"He was drunk. Probably his main worry was staying conscious. Sadly,  given how drunk most of the guys are at frat parties, he probably  doesn't even remember you kissing him," Abby points out.

That actually cheers me up. I would love it if he didn't remember. "I  just wish I could learn how to be good at things like that."

"You know, I really doubt you'd have to pay a guy here to get him to kiss you."

I sip my coffee. "A business arrangement would be easier."