The Longest Ride(53)

She reached for the chopsticks and broke them apart. “Before I came to Wake, I’d never even had a boyfriend before. In high school, I was kind of a nerd, and with work, I didn’t have a lot of time to go to parties or anything like that. I mean, I wasn’t a hermit and I knew what people did on the weekends. I knew there were drugs at school and sex and all that, but it was mainly rumors or whispers that I’d overhear. It’s not like I ever saw any of it happening. During my first semester on campus, I was pretty shocked at how open everything was. I’d hear girls in the dorm talking about hooking up with guys they just met, and I wasn’t even totally sure what that meant. Half the time, I’m still not sure, because it seems like different people mean different things. To some, it’s just making out, but to others, it means sleeping with someone, and to others something in between, if you know what I mean. I spent a big chunk of my freshman year trying to unscramble the code.”



He smiled as she went on.



“And then, Greek life in general isn’t quite what I expected. There are parties all the time, and to a lot of people, that means booze and drugs or whatever. And I’ll admit that I drank too much a couple of times, and I ended up sick and passing out in the bathroom at the house. I’m not proud of that, but there are people on campus who do that every weekend, all weekend long. And I’m not saying it’s because of Greek life at all. It’s in the dorms, in off-campus apartments, everywhere. But I’m just not that into it, and to a lot of people – Marcia included – that makes me naive. Added to that, I’m not part of the whole ‘hookup’ culture, and a lot of people think I’m some kind of prude. Even Marcia thinks that, a little. She’s never understood why anyone would want a real boyfriend in college. She always tells me that the last thing she wants is anything serious.”



He reached for his chopsticks, following her lead. “I can think of a few guys who would be very interested in a girl like that.”



“No, don’t… because even though she says that, I’m not sure it’s true. I think she wants something more real, but she doesn’t know how to find a guy who feels the same way. In college, there aren’t that many guys like that, and why would there be? When girls just give it away for nothing? I mean, I can understand why you’d sleep with someone if you love them, but if you barely know them? What’s the point? It just cheapens it.”



She fell silent, realizing that he was the first person she’d ever admitted all this to. Which was strange. Wasn’t it?



Luke toyed with his chopsticks, picking at the rough edges where he had broken them apart, taking his time to consider it. Then, leaning into the lamplight, he said, “Sounds kind of mature, if you ask me.”



She raised the menu, a bit embarrassed by that. “Just so you know, you don’t have to get sushi if you don’t want that. They have chicken and beef teriyaki, too.”



Luke studied his own menu. “What are you going to have?”



“Sushi,” she answered.



“Where did you learn to like sushi?”



“In high school,” she said. “One of my best friends was Japanese, and she kept telling me there was this great place in Edgewater where she went when she was homesick for good Japanese food. You can only eat at the deli so many times before you start to crave something new, so I went with her one day, and I ended up loving it. So sometimes, when we were studying, we’d get in her car and drive to Edgewater – just this little nondescript place. But we became regulars. And since then, I get these cravings for it every now and then. Like tonight.”



“I get it,” he agreed. “In high school, when I was competing in 4-H, I’d go to the state fair and I always had to have a fried Twinkie.”



She stared at him. “You’re comparing sushi to fried Twinkies?”



“Have you ever had a fried Twinkie?”



“It sounds disgusting.”



“Yeah, well, until you try one, you’re not allowed to comment. They’re good. Eat too many and you’ll probably have a heart attack, but every now and then, there’s nothing like it. Way better than fried Oreos.”



“Fried Oreos?”



“If you’re trying to find a suggestion for your family deli, like I said, I’d go with the fried Twinkie.”



At first, she couldn’t formulate any response at all. Then, with a serious tone: “I don’t think anyone in the Northeast would eat such a thing.”