Words I Might Have Ate

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“Are you going to puke?”

“No,” I shoot Tré an unimpressed look as we rumble down the street in the Pinto. I’m really starting to regret asking him to give me a ride down to the university. He’s done nothing but ask me if I’m nervous the whole time. “Shut the hell up, man.”

“I think you’re nervous,” Tré announces cheerfully, one hand resting on the windowsill while the other holds onto the bottom of the steering wheel loosely. “You’re doing that creepy eyebrow thing that you always do when you’re about to cra—“

“I’m about to punch you in the kidney,” I retort brightly, pasting an obnoxiously cheerful smile on my face as I turn to look at my best friend. “I am not nervous and I’m not going to throw up either.”

“Okay, okay,” Tré holds his hands up and for a brief second, I can already visualize us driving off the road and dying in a fiery explosion. Just as I’m about to ask him to put his hands back on the wheel, he flings one limp wrist over top the steering wheel. “So what’re you going to do if her scary friends are there? You know, the ones that almost beat you up.”

“I’m getting out at the next red light,” I mumble, throwing my head back against the headrest and sighing loudly.

Tré laughs as he reaches down and hits the child lock so that I can’t unlock my door and climb out. “You’re stuck in here forever with me, so answer the question, nervous Billie.”

“Seriously?” I ask, trying repeatedly to open my door. But the ancient Pinto’s lock system that’s apparently withstood the great flood of the dinosaurs miraculously still works and I can’t get out. “Tré, really?”

“Safety first,” He trills as we coast to a stop at a red light. “Now tell me what you’re planning on saying to this girl. I have to approve.”

“Why?” I say shortly, resting my head against the window. It’s raining outside and the cool glass of the window feels amazing against my flushed skin. “Because you’re such an expert with woman?”

“Yes,” Tré begins, but stops once the words click in his head. “I’m sensing some sarcasm here.”

I don’t even attempt to hide the wide grin on my face as the campus comes into view. “Nope, no sarcasm here, Tré. Thanks for the ride.”

“Do you want me to wait here for when her friends chase you out with pitchforks and torches or should I go home and wait for your one call from jail?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me as we pull up to the curb. “You know what we probably look like? Like I’m your awesome, more responsible, much more sexy brother that’s dropping you off at school! I wonder if any hot chicks are watching—what if they want my number? You’ll give it to them if they ask, right?”

“Nope,” I snap the last syllable in my mouth like a poprock as I try to open my door. “For fuck’s sake, Tré, let me out!”

“No, promise me that you’ll give all of the hot girls my number if they ask,” Tré demands, glaring jokingly at me. “Or you’ll be stuck in the passenger seat of the Pinto for the rest of your life and to be completely honest, the cushion might end up eating you at some point. I think it got my ham sandwich last week.”

There’s a bit of a silence in the car that I take advantage of and just stare bewilderedly at the drummer sitting next to me. How he’s gotten this far in life is completely beyond me. Mike and I both hold a private belief that his parents fed him crack when he was a baby and he’s been mental ever since.

“I’ll just let you out then, shall I?” Tré continues on like he hadn’t even said anything out of the ordinary and hits the unlock button, the car shuddering a bit at the sudden gear change.

I open my door and glance back at him. “Thanks for the ride, man.”

“No problem,” Tré leans forward as I slam the door shut. “Hey, so do you want me to stay behind and wait or can I go home?”

“Go home,” I answer, waving him off. “I’ll catch a bus later.”

Tré nods and pulls away, the muffler roaring obnoxiously as he drives. I pause for a minute, just watching the mustard yellow car rejoin traffic before I turn on my heel and survey Berkeley’s campus.

Every time I step onto their property, a tiny part of me feels like I’m trespassing, because I’ve not yet graduated high school. Though I suppose I have every right to be here; I pay taxes in this city. And if everything goes well today, my girlfriend lives on campus.

I fall into step with the crowd and make my way across the grounds slowly. It was just a little before two in the afternoon, so Rilla’s class is still in session at the moment. I don’t want to be too early at her dorms because I don’t want to run into Blondie or Louisa. There’s no telling what’ll happen if we’re in the same area together without Rilla to supervise.

By the time I reach the dorms, the clock at the center of campus is chiming two in the afternoon and an overwhelming rush of excitement washes over me. I briefly entertain the idea of waiting for Rilla outside her dorm, but the December sky is looking a bit gray and I know that it’s about to rain at any moment.

I tug open the glass doors and step inside, the soles of my shoes squeaking against the freshly waxed tiled floor. I hover in the entrance for a moment before I move to the right, towards the lounge where a few students are studying diligently.

I ease myself down onto a worn, threadbare armchair and look around me interestedly. Granted I’ve been in Rilla’s dorms quite a few times, but I’ve never had the chance to look around and actually study my surroundings.

There’s the front desk with the increasingly familiar gray-haired woman working behind it silently and the heavy-set security guard doing his hourly stroll through the lobby to make sure everything’s alright. There’s a few vending machines in the corner and a couple of potted plants that look like they need to be watered more dotting the rather bare interior.

“Billie?”

I twist about in my seat and see Rilla standing behind my chair with an excited look on her face. She looks amazing as always, dressed in a pair of jeans and an off-the-shoulder green sweatshirt. Her hair is thrown up into a messy ponytail, a few tendrils dripping out and framing her face. Her brown sack bag is thrown over her shoulder and she has a binder in her grasp, along with a slender textbook with the word Français trailing down the spine in black inky script.

“Rilla, hi,” I rise up out of my seat and hesitate before I reach out and wrap her up in a hug. “How are you? How was your class?”

Rilla’s arms come up and circle around me lightly and she squeezes gently before she lets go and takes a step back, reaching up to play with her hair idly. “It went well. It was French,” She gestures at her book. “So it’s nothing that I don’t already know.”

“You speak French?” I ask, surprised by this sudden turn of events. “Since when?”

She laughs, looking up at me from under her eyelashes. “Since I took two years back in high school. I’m really only taking this because I need the language credits and it seemed like a good way to boost my GPA.”

“Say something in French,” I ask, smiling widely.

She flushes, her cheek stained a vivid pink. “Why?”

“Because I want to hear you speak it!” I laugh, leaning back against the chair and crossing my arms over my chest. “Please?”

“Que dirai-je?” She finally speaks fluidly, the words seemingly effortless coming from her. “Que tu es belle et étonnante et parfaite?”

“What did you say?” I ask curiously, tilting my head to one side.

Rilla’s cheeks turn even more pink—I didn’t think it was possible—before she shakes her head, biting down on her lower lip. “I didn’t say anything important. Come up to my room with me? I want to put my books down.”

“Sure,” I follow her with my hands in my pockets as she leads me towards the stairs and then starts upwards, her bag jingling cheerfully beside her. We walk in silence—me praying that my four cigarettes on the car ride over wouldn’t severely wind me and embarrass me in front of her.

But we reach the third floor without a problem and Rilla pushes open a plain white door and glances back at me, her eyes dancing mischievously as we start to make our way down a fairly wide hallway with thin green carpet.

She stops outside a plain wooden door with ‘202’ written in black before she pulls out her keys and starts to sort through the loop for her room key. Just as she pulls out a silver key, I clear my throat, looking all around me interestedly.

“Er—Blondie is still in class, isn’t she?’ I ask, looking all around me like she was about to pop out of the woodwork at me.

Rilla laughs, looking at me from over her shoulder as she swings the door open and steps inside her room. “Yeah, Faye is in class until four. So you don’t have to worry about her berating you or glaring evilly at you from across the room.”

“I’m not worried about that,” I begin automatically, but stop once I see the look on her face. “You have to admit that she’s pretty terrifying when she’s angry.”

Rilla motions for me to step inside. “Faye has that drop dead look down pretty well. She’ll make an excellent mother one day.” She moves about the room, setting her books down and slinging her bag over the back of her desk chair.

I take this time to look around her room interestedly. Being in someone’s room, their personal space, their private sanctuary is something rare and I think it gives other people the chance to really see how a person is. I can easily tell Rilla’s side apart from Faye’s side of the room.

Rilla’s side looks more inviting, with pillows and blankets and books stacked everywhere. There’s a tiny stack of records on her nightstand table that I make a mental note to look through later and a sweatshirt pooled on the floor, like she’d just tossed it on the ground in her hurry to get out the door this morning.

“I’m back,” Rilla reappears from the restroom, her hair pulled back neatly. She folds her legs up under herself comfortably before she smiles up at me, her hands crossed neatly in her lap. “So…” She laughs, biting down on her lower lip.

“So,” I mimic her perfectly, watching as her cheeks start to turn red once again. She shifts about in her spot on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of her sweatshirt and trying not to smile in front of me.

I don’t hesitate as I lean forward and press her lips up against my own. A soft gasp of surprise slips out before she relaxes against me and slowly, slowly brings her left arm up and drapes it over my shoulder.

Our mouths move together perfectly and I’m biting down on her lower lip while my fingers are dancing at the hem of her shirt, trying desperately to find some of her soft skin that I can brush up against. But she pulls away, our faces drawing apart with a soft, wet noise before she clears her throat, her hand up in front of her mouth.

“I-I—you went and saw someone yesterday?” She asks vaguely, clearing her throat again and looking anywhere but at me.

I’m torn between being annoyed that she’s pulled away and confused with as to what she’s talking about. And then it all clicks for me. Abigail, she was speaking about Abigail. I nod, pulling at the skin on the back of my neck as I stare down at her white blanket. “Yeah, I did. We talked for a bit and-and we’re fine.”

“Fine?” Her head comes up and there’s alarm in her voice.

I shake my head quickly. “No, no, no. I meant over. We’re fine with it being over.” I hesitate, wondering to myself if I should tell her about the kiss, about her parting words. Would it cause a fight between us before we even had a chance together?

Rilla senses my hesitation and leans forward, placing her hands on my knees. “But?”

I look deep into her eyes and realize that if I want to give our relationship a chance, than I have to be upfront and honest. Something I never truly was with before in the past. “She kissed me before she left.”

“Oh,” She retracts her hands and I want to snatch them out of her lap and pull them back to me. I don’t have a chance to regret my words before she speaks again. “Well I can’t very well be upset with you, can I? She kissed you and not the other way around?”

I shake my head firmly. “It was like she was there and then she was gone.”

“Alright,” Rilla nods to herself, chewing on her thumbnail as she thinks. Finally she scoots closer so our knees bump together and she cups my face in her hands. “I bet I can kiss better,” She whispers, her breath rushing across my face.

She’s there and then she’s not. It’s soft and sweet and I can feel her nibbling at my lips lightly. Just as I open my mouth, she’s gone and she’s pressing these dainty kisses across my rough cheek before she moves forward, crawling into my lap and wrapping her legs around my waist.

She pulls apart, our foreheads resting together lightly as we both struggle to regain our breath. My heart is racing in my chest and I exhale heavily, an incredulous bout of laughter washing over me.

If this is how she reacts every time I confess something, I’m going to start dropping secrets more often.

“I don’t really read,” I blurt out, watching her reaction closely. “I only read Catcher in the Rye because my brother made me—I’m working with him to get my high school diploma.”

Rilla’s head tips to one side and she surveys me from up under her eyelashes, her bright green eyes twinkling merrily. “I know you don’t. I’ve known for a long, long time—she told me.” And she leans forward, kissing me again.

My hands are slipping around her waist and cupping her ass and she’s groaning into my lips, her grip on my shoulders tightening. The only noise in the room is our labored breathing and the rustle of our hands roaming across clothing.

I already know that this is quickly turning into a situation and Rilla’s going to realize it shortly. I make a move to bring her off my lap, but she protests, pulling back slightly before she kisses me once again. Then she leans back so she can see my face and I watch her chest rise and fall steadily.

“So are you going to ask me?” She asks finally, reaching forward and playing with the buttons of my shirt. “Ask me out, I mean.” She frowns slightly, correcting herself like I had no idea what she was talking about when it has been the only thing on my mind since yesterday afternoon.

“Rilla,” I begin quietly, trying to keep my voice level and calm. I don’t want to fuck this up; I want this to be perfect. “I like—I want—I just,” I exhale heavily, trying not to laugh at the amused look on her face. I know I’m screwing this up terribly. “You’re amazing and—“

“Yes,” She whispers softly, those gorgeous green eyes sparkling happily as she ends my obvious discomfort. “And for what it’s worth, I’ve been waiting for you to say those words since the day I saw you eating egg rolls at the bar.”

“Better late than never, right?” I mumble, looking down at her slender fingers as she twists them nervously in her lap. “Why’d you wait so long for me to come around?”

She shrugs her shoulders and looks up into my eyes once again. “Some guys are just worth waiting around for, you know? And you are worth it,” Her voice is quiet and I have to strain to hear the ending. “I could just tell. I’m glad I waited for you to realize—to understand that—“

“Me too,” I admit, laughing a bit as I rub at my cheek. “Even though I took forever to-to realize—“

“Would you kindly shut up?” Rilla laughs, biting down on her lip. Her eyes are twinkling and bright as she leans forward and as she speaks again, her mouth brushes against my own as her lips move to form the words. “And just kiss me already?”