Chapter 18

The morning after I returned from Knoxville, Mom cooked breakfast. Dad was out of town on a trip, and Erin had decided to sleep late, so Mom and I were alone. She fixed too much food, so I felt obliged to load my plate with more than I usually ate. With a well-hidden sigh, I wondered how I’d eat even half of it.

“Have you called Gina yet?” Mom asked softly.

I shook my head. I had called Kendall the night before, when I got home, but I’d been leery about calling Gina, especially after our last conversation.

“Things haven’t gotten better?”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“How’re things with you and Kendall?”

Once again, I shrugged.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

I shrugged. “It’s a really complex situation, and none of us are happy. I mean, it’d take me a while to explain, so...”

“I already know some of it,” she said reasonably. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere.”

Since explaining things would get me out of eating any more—I’d barely made a dent in my breakfast—I decided to do it. After a moment to marshal my thoughts, I started speaking. Fifteen minutes later, I was still going. Mom occasionally interrupted with questions, but for the most part, she simply listened.

“So that’s more or less the situation,” I said, summing up. “Kendall hoped Gina would go to UCLA instead of UT, and she wants her ‘turn’ as my only girlfriend. Gina’s sorority sisters aren’t really helping the situation, but she had her claws out before any of that flared up,” I added. Then I shrugged expressively. “Now, Gina’s fed up with Kendall, and Kendall’s fed up with Gina. I’m in the middle, but nothing I do seems to make things any better.”

“Elizabeth told me that Gina’s pretty upset too. It sounds like you’re in a difficult situation,” Mom said.

“No fu— I mean, no kidding.”

“And you’ve tried to talk about it? With the girls, I mean.”

I nodded. “But nothing seems to work. I can’t get them to talk to each other, and neither one wants to be the first to extend the olive branch.” Besides, Gina already tried that, and it didn’t work, I recalled with resentment.

“Then it sounds like you’ve got a tough choice to make.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, although I knew the answer. I guess I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“If none of you are happy, and you aren’t communicating, then you’ll only prolong the inevitable if you don’t do something.”

“Like what?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Well, if you’ve tried to fix things yourself, but things haven’t improved, then...”

“I’m going to have to make a choice,” I said heavily.

She nodded.

“Yeah, Trip told me the same thing.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to see things when you’re not in the middle of them,” she said, her voice soft and comforting.

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No fucking kidding,” she said. When I looked up in shock, she simply smiled. “Hey, I’m allowed to use that kind of language,” she said, half-defensive, half-joking. “Especially if it’s appropriate.”

“Still...,” I said.

“Still...,” she echoed. Then, softly, “Do you know what you want?”

“I want things the way they used to be,” I said.

“That’s a start,” she said, “but whining about it won’t make it happen.”

I shook my head, chagrined.

“Have you talked to Susan about it?”

“Sort of, but she wasn’t any help.”

“She can’t tell you what you want,” Mom said, softly incredulous. “You need to decide that for yourself.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” I said.

“Because it’s true,” she said. Then she leaned forward. “No one said that being an adult was easy, Paul. I wish it were, but it’s not. Sometimes, you have to make tough choices.”

“But how can I make this choice, knowing that it’ll make somebody unhappy?” I asked.

“Is it better than the alternative?” she replied matter-of-factly.

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “I wish I could help, but...”

“I’m going to have to figure this out for myself,” I said. “Yeah, Susan told me the same thing.”

“She’s right, you know.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” I said sullenly.

“Why don’t you give Gina a call, to let her know you got home okay,” she suggested. “No matter how you feel right now, you still need to be polite. Besides, Gina’s just as frustrated as you are.”

I nodded.

“You two always talked things out when you were in high school. Communication is vital to a good relationship. You know that.”

“I guess,” I said.

“No matter what, Gina will always be one of your best friends.”

“I wish,” I said, unconvinced.

At that, Mom stood and walked around the table. She leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said quietly. “I wish I could solve all your problems and protect you, but you’re not a little boy anymore.”

But I don’t want to be an adult, either, I silently complained.

“May I please speak to Gina?”

“Certainly, Paul,” Elizabeth said, her British accent softly reassuring. “Just a moment.”

A few seconds later, I heard a click as Gina picked up another extension.

“I’ve got it, Mom,” she yelled. Then, to me, “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

Our conversation started slowly, both of us feeling toward something, anything better than our angry exchange from a few days before. She apologized for snapping at me, and I apologized in return. Then we talked about something safe: the end of the quarter and our classes in general.

Gina was pretty sure that she had made the Dean’s List; despite all of her extracurricular activities with the sorority, she did work hard on her schoolwork. According to my calculations, I’d earn an A in Professor Joska’s class, and if I did, I’d make the Dean’s List as well. (Kendall worried about her Organic Chemistry class, which she was sure would keep her from getting straight As, although I didn’t share that with Gina.)

At that point, our conversation turned to our social lives.

Trip wanted to play intramural basketball during winter quarter, and he had recruited me to be on his team. Luke and Jeff were going to join us, and we were searching for a fifth man. Jeff had gotten better at football, but he was still hopelessly uncoordinated when it came to catching or holding on to the ball. I’d already seen him play basketball, so I didn’t hold out much hope for him improving there either. In spite of that, I figured that we’d have fun anyway.

Gina told me about her sorority’s Winter Formal dance, which they held in conjunction with a fraternity. I cringed until she said that ΑΤΩ was the fraternity (the sorority rotated which fraternity they chose, and the Pikes had been the year before). She also talked about Greek Week, as well as the sorority’s plans for Carnicus, a celebration at the end of the spring quarter. By a cruel twist of irony, Chi Omega and Sigma Chi were planning a skit for the Carnicus competition.

“Paul?” Gina asked finally, her voice small.

“Yeah?”

“Were you serious when you said that I was the reason you didn’t get into Sigma Chi?”

“Listen,” I said, “I’m sorry I said that.”

“Is it true?”

“I don’t know,” I said at last. That wasn’t strictly true, but I guess I didn’t feel like beating Gina up for something in the past.

She knew me well enough to recognize my equivocation for what it was. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never meant for that to happen.”

“I’m better off not being in a fraternity,” I lied glibly. “I mean, I don’t know when I’d have time for one.”

“That’s true,” she said, tears in her voice. She was trying to make the best of a bad situation, and I knew it.

“So,” I asked, changing the subject, “what’re you up to today?”

“Not much. Leah wanted you to come over, but...”

“But what?”

“But ... we need to talk about it first,” she said.

“Do you wanna come over here instead?” I asked.

“Do you mind?”

“See you in ten minutes?” I asked, by way of answer.

“Give me fifteen,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later. Gina smiled wanly when I answered it. I invited her in and then shut the door. A few minutes later, my mom and Erin went grocery shopping, leaving Gina and me alone.

“Where’s your dad?” she asked.

“I think he’s in Boston,” I said. “But I’m really not sure.”

“I thought I saw his car in the garage.”

“He takes the Karmann Ghia when he’s got a long set of trips,” I explained. “He doesn’t like leaving the Corvette at the airport.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “That’s right.”

“So we’re here alone,” I said.

“Alone?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” I said. Then I sat on the couch and pulled her into my lap. “Alone.”

I had jerked off the night before—twice—and once in the shower that morning, but that didn’t stop my dick from stiffening as Gina and I started kissing. Our kisses were tentative at first, but we quickly moved beyond our initial hesitation. Soon, we were kissing like long-lost lovers (which, in a way, we were).

“God, I’ve missed this,” Gina said, when we finally separated.

“Me too.”

“I hate when we argue,” she said. Then she kissed me again.

“Mrmph toh,” was all I could manage.

“When will your mom and Erin be back?” she asked, breathless.

I shrugged and then drew her lips to mine.

“I want you,” she panted, pulling back slightly. “Now.”

“Did you wanna talk about Leah first?” I teased.

Gina could feel my hard-on through my jeans, and she wiggled her ass against it as she shook her head.

“Are you sure?” I asked facetiously. “I mean, you said we needed to talk about—”

She turned to straddle my hips and then kissed me, hard.

As our tongues sparred, I mentally smiled.

“If you don’t shut up and screw me, Paul Hughes,” she said, breathing hard, “I think I’ll explode.”

“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that,” I said with a grin.

She flashed me an exasperated look and then crushed her lips against mine, her silken black hair tickling my cheeks.

As we kissed, I pulled her shirt out of her jeans. Then I tugged it up, hooking my fingers under her bra as I did. We had to break our kiss, but we quickly resumed once I tossed aside her shirt and bra.

We kissed for another minute or two and then I reached for the snap of her jeans. A moment later, she abruptly rolled to the side. Then she slouched on the couch and kicked off her shoes as she unzipped her jeans. She skinned them off, along with her panties, in one motion. She didn’t bother with her socks. When she rolled upright, she flashed me a pained look and then pointedly glanced at my still-fastened jeans.

“Do I have to do everything?” she asked.

I grinned like an idiot and deliberately laced my fingers behind my head.

She groaned in theatrical frustration and descended upon my belt. A moment later, she demanded that I lift my hips, which I did. She didn’t even bother taking off my jeans and underwear; she simply shoved them down my legs and then reached for my erection. In one motion, she straddled my hips and set my cock at her opening. Then, with a sigh, she impaled herself on my length.

“Better?” I asked impudently.

“Shut up and screw me,” she commanded. Then she tried to look stern.

It almost worked.

“You are incorrigible,” she said.

Instead of answering, I kissed her, my lips locked against hers as my tongue invaded her mouth. Then I put my hands on her hips and lifted her. She started moving on her own a half-second later.

As she moved atop me, she rocked her hips, grinding her clit against the base of my cock. I cupped her ass and pulled her toward me each time she raised her hips. In ecstasy, she arched her back, her ebony hair swinging free behind her.

I captured one of her dark nipples and sucked. It hardened in my mouth, a crinkly little nub of pleasure. She gasped when I bit down gently. When I switched to her other breast, she ran her fingers through my hair and cried out softly.

She came a lot quicker than I thought she would—she must’ve been really worked up. Her pussy contracted around my cock and she began frantically bouncing up and down. With each downward motion, she arched her back, rocking her hips, rubbing her clit against my manhood.

Finally, her pussy spasmed and she cried out, her cries turning into a scream. I squeezed her ass cheeks as her pussy clutched at me, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing.

With a long shudder, she collapsed against me, breathing hard and not moving. I merely held her, planting tender kisses along her shoulder as I did. Her pussy spasmed two or three more times, aftershocks sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

When she recovered enough to sit up, she looked at me, her eyes hooded.

“You told me to shut up and screw you,” I said, grinning.

“Then shut up and kiss me,” she said.

Who was I to refuse?

Ten minutes later, I was still very hard, and Gina was still impaled on my shaft. Unfortunately, she was too sensitive to continue, so she lay on the couch with her head in my lap. I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations as she ran her lips along my shaft. It didn’t take her long to coax my balls into giving her what she wanted.

Afterward, we gathered our clothes and headed to my room. (I didn’t know when my mother and sister would return, and I didn’t really want to be fucking Gina on the living room couch when they did.)

I was still horny, so I took off the rest of my clothes and climbed onto the bed. Gina started sucking me again, her tongue caressing my shaft as my erection returned. I pulled her toward me and then rolled her to her back. As I did, I moved between her legs, my hard-on hovering over her pussy.

“I’m still a little sensitive,” she said. “So be gentle.”

I nodded and then lowered my hips. When I entered her, she whimpered, but then sighed.

“God, you’re so much better than my fingers,” she said.

As I bottomed out, I looked a question at her.

“My batteries died a week before exams,” she said with a small laugh. “I was so busy that I didn’t have time to get more. And...”

“And?”

“Regan’s been spending a lot of time with Margot, if you know what I mean.”

For a moment, I imagined the two lithe blondes, their bodies entwined as they pleasured each other.

“Exactly,” Gina said, reading my expression. “So I’ve been reduced to getting off the old-fashioned way. But that has its benefits.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm hmm,” she said. “Miss Goody Two Shoes can’t hear when I’m just using my fingers.”

I furrowed my brow.

“I have to be careful when I use Rocky, ‘cause Faith is a light sleeper.”

“Rocky?”

“My vibrator?” she reminded me. “Duh. I thought Rocky sounded better than ‘The Pleasure Rocket.’”

“I didn’t know you’d given it a name,” I said.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me lately,” she said with a look of regret. “It seems like whenever we’re together, we either argue or screw each other silly.”

“You mean like now?” I asked, glancing down at where our bodies were joined.

“Are we arguing?” she asked disingenuously.

“Not really.”

“Good,” she said. “Then let’s get back to screwing each other silly.”

“In other words, ‘shut up and screw you’?”

“You’re such a goof,” she said. “But ... you’re ... my ... goof,” she added, her words coming out in gasps as I began pumping into her.

She was still too sensitive to continue for long, so I pulled out and she rolled to her hands and knees. I entered her from behind, gripping her hips as I slid into her. In that position, I wouldn’t over-stimulate her clit. Instead, I hit her inner spot, and she started moaning in pleasure.

After several minutes, I quickened my pace, my climax imminent. With a guttural grunt, I slammed into her, burying my cock as deep as I could. Then I held on to her hips to steady myself as spurt after spurt of semen bathed her inner walls.

When I finally opened my eyes, I realized that I had collapsed forward, driving Gina to the bed. Beneath me, she was panting and moaning softly. I swallowed hard and pushed myself up.

With a groan, I pulled out of her and flopped to my back. She rolled over and hugged herself to my side, both of us still breathing hard.

“And we haven’t even had our argument yet,” she panted.

“Let’s just lie here instead,” I countered, wrapping my arm around her.

“Good idea. I’m too happy to argue anyway.”

“What did you want to talk to me about? “ I asked Gina later. “About Leah, I mean?”

“She wants to have sex with you,” Gina said, propping herself on her elbow.

“And you don’t want me to?” I asked, a little confused, but sure that I understood her intimation.

“Is it that obvious?”

I nodded.

“I guess I want you to myself. I mean, I’ve been having to share for so long now that I’m...”

“You’re what?” I asked.

“I’m tired of it,” she said honestly. “You’re my boyfriend. Leah can get her own guy.”

I followed that line of thought to its logical conclusion: And Kendall can get her own guy. Had Gina meant it like that? Maybe, maybe not.

“I mean, God,” she said, “Leah’s not ugly or anything, and she likes sex, it’s just ... Believe it or not, she’s shy around guys,” she said. “Don’t get a big head or anything, but you’re a sure thing for her.”

“A sure thing?”

“Yeah. Leah knows she can just ask you to have sex with her. She doesn’t wanna get a bad reputation around her school. You know? I mean, she can’t just walk up to a guy and say, ‘Pardon me, but I’d like you to screw me silly.’”

“I guess,” I said, chuckling.

“I’m serious,” Gina said. “It’s a big double standard, and it sucks. Guys are cool if they have sex, but girls are sluts. That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” I said softly.

“So Leah’s horny, but scared. Well, she’s shy, too. I mean, she doesn’t have much experience flirting with guys. Girls, on the other hand...,” Gina said, laughing. “God, if high school girls weren’t so scared of being lezzies, I think Leah would be having sex with about ten of them. She can flirt with girls. But the trouble is, most of ‘em don’t have a clue what’s going on,” she explained.

I nodded.

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk about,” Gina finished.

I gestured for her to continue.

“I guess I just don’t want to ‘lend’ you to Leah, if that makes sense. I mean, if you want to have sex with her, then I guess it’s okay, but...”

“But you don’t want me to,” I finished for her.

She looked into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction.

“That’s cool,” I said. “I mean, I’m not the one who’s gone looking for other girls.”

“Tell me about it,” she said ruefully. “You’ve already got one girl too many in your life.” At my frown, she turned apologetic. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

It was a thin excuse, but I let her off the hook. I didn’t want to start an argument with her, if for no other reason than we were getting along at the moment. Besides, she had a right to feel that way, although I didn’t think she saw things from Kendall’s perspective. To be fair, Kendall didn’t see things the way Gina did, either.

“Is that really okay?” Gina asked, drawing my attention back to the question at hand.

“Sure,” I said. Then I grinned cockily. “That means you’ll have to take care of all of my urges, though.”

“God,” she said sincerely, “that’s the least of my worries.”

Gina decided to spend the night with me, so she called home to tell her parents. She also talked to Leah, who wasn’t exactly happy to hear that she couldn’t have sex with me. Oddly enough, Erin seemed to think Gina had done the right thing.

“She needs to be more outgoing,” Erin said, about Leah. “And another thing—she needs to understand that I’m not her property or something. I mean, she gets really upset when I talk about Sean. He’s my boyfriend, but she doesn’t seem to understand that. Yeah, I like fooling around with girls, but I’m not a lesbian or anything. I’m totally bisexual. I like guys too. But I guess it’d be easier if Leah had a guy of her own, or ... whatever.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I said.

“Why?” Erin asked. “She’s cute, she’s smart, and she’s really interesting. Heck, she’s charming. But around most guys, she just clams up. If she’d just have a little confidence, she’d have guys calling her all the time. But...”

“But what?” Gina asked.

“But ... well ... maybe she just needs to realize that she is cute, she is smart, and she is interesting. She just needs a little push, you know?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Gina said. After an ironic pause, she half-laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“I was just thinking...”

“About?”

“Kara had the same talk with me before you and I started going together,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it till now. And you know what? I’d be willing to bet that my mom had the same talk with Kara.” Then, “God, I’m turning into my mother!”

Erin and I chuckled.

Then Gina turned sober. “I’ll talk to her,” she repeated to Erin, who nodded.

“Cool. Thanks,” Erin said. “In the meantime, I’m going to go finish writing a letter to Sean. I need to tell him what I’m gonna do to him the next time I see him,” she added with a salacious smile. “So g’night.”

“Night,” Gina and I said together. Then Gina shook her head in thought.

“What?” I asked.

“I really am turning into my mother. I’m more worried about Leah than my own problems.”

“It’s because you’re a good person.”

“Tell Kendall that,” she said.

“I have,” I said softly.

“It didn’t work,” Gina said, her eyes sad.

What could I say that wouldn’t be a lie?

The next day, during breakfast, the phone rang. Erin must’ve stayed up late, writing to Sean, because she was still in bed. Consequently, Mom answered the phone.

“Oh, hi, Susan,” she said. The two women talked for a few minutes, but then Mom said, “Sure, he’s right here. Hold on a second.” Then to me, “Susan wants to talk to you.”

Gina had just finished peeling me an orange, but shooed me toward the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Susan said. Then she gently upbraided me for not calling her after my exams, as I had promised.

“Um ... sorry,” I said. “I guess I got caught up in—”

“Life?” she interrupted, laughing. “That happens.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

We talked for a few minutes about my exams and I proudly told her about my Design final. Then I gave her the highlights of my life for the previous month. Gina and Mom were within hearing range at the kitchen table, so I didn’t go into too many details. Gina occasionally looked up and smiled, but she seemed content to let me talk as long as I wanted.

“So,” Susan said at last, “are you ready to take a break from your Christmas break?”

“Huh?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to come over this weekend. You could spend a couple of days here and unwind, without any responsibilities.”

“This weekend?” I asked. Then I Got It. I looked up at Mom.

She returned my stare with bland equanimity.

Was Susan’s invitation a coincidence? Hardly. I’d been set up, and I knew it.

“Well?” Susan prompted. “I thought you could fly over tomorrow morning. I can meet you at the airport. If you’d like, you can help me around the house with Christmas decorating, or you can simply relax and do nothing. Whatever you like. I can drop you off at the airport on Monday or Tuesday, and you can fly home, rested and refreshed. What do you think?”

“I think I’m being set up,” I said, shooting another glance at my mother.

“Set up?” Susan asked. She even managed to sound guileless.

“Set up,” I repeated, without heat. “I know you.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, dropping all pretext, her voice warm. “I’d still like to see you this weekend, though,” she said. “Your mom thought you might like someone to talk to. She also thought you’d like some time away from ... things.”

“Actually, things’re going pretty good here,” I said obtusely, but knowing that she’d catch the reference.

“Go already,” Gina said from the table.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” I said to her.

She rolled her eyes and then shook her head, as if to say, “Silly, of course I know what you’re talking about.”

Mom smiled artfully.

“Are all the women in my life conspiring against me?” I asked no one in particular.

“Yes!” Mom, Susan, and Gina answered at once.

Mom and Gina started laughing. When Susan heard them, she joined in.

“Okay, okay,” I said at last. “I give.” Then, to Susan, “Let me check the weather and file a flight plan. I’ll let you know what time to pick me up.”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” she said. “Or rather, our way.”

Later that afternoon, Gina and I got together with my best friend from high school, Scott Anderson, and his girlfriend, Shannon. We talked about life at college, life away from our families, and life in general.

I was a little saddened by how much we’d grown apart. Scott was in Air Force ROTC (at Arizona State University), so his day-to-day life was very different from mine. Even Shannon and Gina, who had once been good friends, seemed to have little in common anymore. As if to underscore the differences, even our college cities—Knoxville, Tennessee, and Tempe, Arizona—couldn’t have been more different.

Gina and I had a good time with Scott and Shannon, but I guess we both felt estranged from them.

“Heather Wellesley was the same way,” Gina said as we drove back to my house. “We’d become so ... different.”

“When did you talk to Heather?” I asked, recalling fond—and sexy—memories of the busty blonde.

“I called her over Thanksgiving, but she’s changed a lot. I mean, she’s become a total party girl. She’s pledging ΑΟΠ ... that’s Alpha Omicr—”

“I know the Greek alphabet,” I interrupted, trying not to sound testy.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Anyway, she’s pledging ΑΟΠ. I’ve heard they’re one of the big party sororities at Georgia.”

“Isn’t Chi O one of the party sororities at Tennessee?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Gina admitted. “But we also do a lot of community service. And they encourage us to keep our grades up. Panhellenic women have the highest collective GPA of any group on campus. So yeah, Chi O is a party sorority, but we know when to party and when to study. I know I sure do.”

I wordlessly conceded the point.

“Anyway, when I spoke to Heather,” Gina continued, “the only things she talked about were the parties and the guys. When I asked her about her classes, she basically bragged about how she skipped most of them. I mean, she still doesn’t know what she wants to major in. As far as I could tell, though, it sounded like she’s working toward an Advanced Party-ology degree.”

I chuckled.

“I hope I never get like that,” Gina said. “Sure, I like the parties and mixers, but my main focus is school. I mean, I know what I wanna do, and I’m going to do it.”

I nodded in confident agreement.

“Speaking of which,” she added with a grin, “I definitely wanna do you. Tonight.”

I waggled my eyebrows at her.

“I think I’ll force you to screw me silly,” she mused.

“I don’t think you’ll have to ‘force’ me.”

“Maybe not the first or second time,” she replied, her whimsy turning to challenge, “but the fourth or fifth time, I—”

“‘Fourth or fifth time’?” I half-squawked.

“Don’t interrupt,” she chided. “Now, as I was saying, the fourth or fifth time, I think...”

True to her word, Gina basically attacked me when we went to bed that night. I was a willing victim, though. Our sex was hard and fast, and I was afraid that my family would hear.

Afterward, we sprawled across my bed, panting. Once Gina had satisfied her urge for aggressive sex, however, she turned affectionate. The second time we made love, we were quiet and gentle. She straddled my hips and rode me, rising and falling with a hypnotic rhythm, driving both of us toward orgasm.