Velvet Kisses(43)
“That’s fine.” She blinks up a storm, a nervous habit that always signified her discomfort. “And I love seeing you on campus, but you’d better watch your step around here, cowboy.” She gives a hard wink. For some reason I prefer the moniker when it comes from Marley. “I’d stay away from the coeds if you know what I mean. They’re just after one thing.” She leans in and whispers, “Talk about your power sluts. They’re so desperate to get laid, they’ve turned it into a little game. You’d think the university were fresh out of frat boys the way they pursue older men.” She averts her eyes at the idea.
A private smile curves my lips.
“Don’t look so smug, James, there’s a very nefarious reason for this.” She seems playful and light, but there’s something bubbling under that cracked lid of hers, I can tell.
We put in our orders and shift to the far end of the counter while waiting for our coffee.
“And what nefarious reason is this?”
Monica chortles out a laugh. “Oh, don’t you worry. You’re too smart to get ensnared in some sorority girl trap—or, I suppose technically it’s just a harmless game.” She leans in and wrinkles her nose. “They bag old coots for the hell of it,” she hisses it out in a hard whisper, and my ego jolts from the bullet. “You know—rack up the points at the end of the semester, and the one with the most ‘ancient hookups’ under her belt gets the prize.”
“And what might that be?” I’m only slightly amused. I’m also hoping ancient hookups is a term Monica coined herself.
“Who knows”—she brushes it off with a wave—“something ridiculous like a lifetime pass to the Laundromat, or a gilded key to the boy’s locker room. It’s the spirit of competition that ropes them in.”
Marley comes back to me in a memory, surrounded by snow, a fresh packed ball of ice in her hand. One thing you’d better know about me, I’m fiercely competitive!
“Yes, well, I don’t plan on getting roped in.” I’m not getting roped in, am I?
Our coffee and my birthday scone arrives as we find a seat near the window.
“Don’t discount your good looks too quickly.” Monica leans in, her dark eyes intensely set to mine. “You deserve to be happy, Wyatt. Not taken advantage of by some insolent slut who parades you as some trophy to her dorm sisters. Your life isn’t a joke.”
I’m not a joke? She seemed to think so when she was busy bouncing on another guy’s lap—granted she left me and married him. But, in the mother of all ironies, they’re divorced, and she’s right back here with me.
I take a sip of my coffee and burn my tongue. Damn. I need all members of my body in prime fighting condition for tonight. I squelch a laugh. Marley and I are going to make love, not war—maybe a little of both for the hell of it.
“You should find a nice woman and settle down.” She stretches out the word woman a little longer than necessary.
“And who do you think I should settle down with?” I lean back in my seat, girding myself for the answer because, if she’s honest, I know exactly what she’ll say. I’m not sure why I’ve baited her, but there’s no time like the present to let her down easy. A part of me wants to get it over with. Besides, she’s pissed me off with all this talk of slutty coeds. Marley is anything but, and I know what we have between us is more than some silly sorority game. I’ve got a contract to prove it.
My stomach turns because that’s not a hell of a lot better.
“Who should you settle down with?” She repeats it like a dare. “I guess that’s something you’ll have to answer for yourself.” She takes a bite out of my breakfast uninvited. “But I know who you’ll end up with.” She pushes the scone toward my mouth, and I refuse. “My prediction is that we’ll be back together by spring. We’ve always been destined for one another, Wyatt. Sometimes the best thing for you is right in front of your eyes.”
Monica might be speaking, but it’s Marley’s face I see.
* * *
Marley insisted we meet at the Black Bear tonight. I’ve shed the suit for a pair of jeans and a dress shirt in the event she’s more interested in my tie than she is me. I’ll admit that Monica’s soliloquy about the “ancients” the sorority girls are looking to seduce got to me a little. Her theory is ridiculous on many levels, but mainly because Marley isn’t interested in my age. She’s strictly interested in what I posses in my pants, and I’m not talking about my wallet. The only thing she’s gunning for is someone to test out theories of sexual relativity with for that article of hers. It may not be highbrow literature she’s penning, but I’m always up for an educational inquest. I believe “research” is the term she used. I wince at the thought. The more I think about it, the more Monica’s story seems within reach.