Big Words, Recycled Phrases, and the Bittersweet Taste of Other Boys on Your Lips

I headed into the more run down part of town, not the dangerous part, and slowed a bit. Here’s where guys came when they were looking for girls like me. I stopped near an old out of business record store, the sign hanging crooked, and the windows dirty. Leaning against the wall, I let go of my bags. My laptop case was already hooked over the handle for my suitcase, my purse resting against both of them. Once the sun was almost out of sight I slipped off my jacket. A car passed, and I bent over, digging in my purse, pretending to be oblivious to the car slowing down behind me.

“What’s a girl like you doing out here?” I heard a guy ask. I stood up, walking over to his car, and leaning over, slowly, palms resting against the rolled down window. He was young. Dressed in a business complete with a tie and from what I could see dress shoes, he looked like a little boy who’d played dress up with his father’s clothes. This guy was probably the son of some rich and successful business owner. He probably just came from a long meeting, and wouldn’t mind finding a way to relieve some tension.

“Depends,” I paused, raising an eyebrow, “What do you want me to do?”

The guy smirked, and I had to resist returning the gesture. This was too easy.

---

“Wait, how much for this?” The guy asked, raising an eyebrow. I sat innocently on the edge of the still made up bed at the hotel, shrugging.

“Well, I guess tonight I could lower the price under one condition.”

“Okay,” The guy said slowly, leaning back against the TV stand.

“Did you pay full price for this room? For a full night?” I asked him. I continued when I got his returning nod, “Just let me stay here through tonight.”

---

The guy was rougher than I had expected. I rubbed my hand along the side of my face that he had accidentally caused me to slam into the headboard. By the time we had finished I could’ve caught almost five hours of sleep, but I went ahead and took a shower cleaning up a bit.

I stepped out of the shower and pulled on the clothes I had grabbed out of my suitcase before reentering the hotel room. I wasn’t surprised to find the guy’s dress shoes he had toed off by the door were gone, and he was nowhere in sight. I spotted a few bills laying on the nightstand and retrieved them tucking them safely into my purse before collapsing into the bed.

I woke to a siren and sat up quickly, heart beating fast to discover it had just been the hotels alarm clock. I stood up, picking up my clothes from the floor and changing into something acceptable. I gave a small smile to the hotels receptionist and tried to figure out what I should do with my suitcase. I could always just put it somewhere and come back and pick it up, but that’s too risky. I could drop it off at the Urie’s, but then Mrs. Urie would ask questions, and I’d have to give her answers. I walked quickly to the Starbucks before decided that Jon was about to go to school, and he wouldn’t be working. I changed direction walking quickly towards Zach’s school.

If I didn’t hurry I’d be late for class. I sped up, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the familiar big white vehicle in the same spot in the school parking lot before heading up through the campus. It was cluttered with a few clumps of kids, most talking quietly or saying nothing at all given that it was still early morning. I spotted Brendon and quickly made my way over to him.

“Brendon,” I spoke once I was close enough. He turned quickly recognition passing through his features.

“Where’s Zach?” I asked, glancing around.

“Oh, he went in to find,” He paused, “some one.”

I raised an eyebrow muttering a slow, “Okay,” I ran a hand through my hair pulling it out of my face, “Where’s Jon?”

Brendon stared at my face for a moment before shaking his head and speaking, “Oh, he just went back to his car with Spencer, cause Spencer left his backpack in there.”

“Great, thanks.” I nodded walking back out into the parking lot.

“Jon,” I called once I was close enough.

“Hey,” He greeted looking taken back, “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” I spoke before shaking my head, “Can you be a lifesaver and let me put this in your trunk?” I motioned to the suitcase I’d been dragging behind me.

“Yeah,” He nodded, bending down to help me life the object. “You okay?” Spencer squinted pulling his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I nodded looking at him confused. He motioned vaguely to his own face, and my face straightened out.

“Oh,” I reached a hand up, lightly touching the bruise that ran across the side of my face, “I’m fine.”

“What time is it?” I changed the subject. Jon glanced at his phone, “Almost Seven.” He responded.

“Crud,” I mumbled, “I gotta go, I’m going to be late.”

“For what?” Jon asked.

“I’m in college.” I told him with an amused smile.

“Oh, cool, you got your license?”

“Yup, it’s collecting dust in my wallet.”

“What time do your classes end?”

“I only have one today, it’s an hour and a half, I’ll probably hang around campus until one, and then I’m coming back here to see Zach when you guys get out.”

“You can borrow my car.” He offered tossing me his keys.

“You’re joking.”

“Nah, I trust you. Just don’t let the gas take get down to empty, and have It back here by the end of school.” He shrugged.

“You’re joking.” I repeated, glancing to Spencer.

“He’s really not. One time he gave a homeless guy fifty dollars after picking him up, taking him to Wendy’s and letting him order whatever he wanted.”

“He had a little girl!” Jon defended.

“That’s just what he told you! Don’t you think if he had a little girl and no house than he would have her with him?”

“Shut up,” Jon huffed, crossing his arms and starting to walk off.

“Jon!” I laughed, holding up his keys.

“Have it back by the end of the school day. Don’t wreck it.”

“Just take it.” Spencer shrugged, walking after him. I glanced at Jon’s back, then to the car and repeat. Finally, I shrugged getting in the driver’s seat of the car and starting it. The radio started instantly, and I turned the volume down looking through a big white CD case that was covered in completely random words and doodles in different colored sharpies. I caught sight of one that read ‘Bden approves of this message, but Ryan eats small children’. I yawned, picking out a Killers CD and putting it in, turning it down low, background noise.

I drove down the road, and actually ended up at the campus early. It took me five minutes to find a parking spot. I got out, sticking the keys down in my bag and walking tiredly to my class.

“Ms. Cane,” Someone called as I was entering. The class before had just gotten out. I turned to see Professor Hansen.

“Did you ever speak to the guy I recommended?” He asked. I squinted thinking back before shaking my head.

“No, sorry,” I sighed, “It slipped my mind. I don’t even think I have the number anymore.”

“That’s fine,” He excused before glancing into the sea of students leaving his class, “Saporta.” He called waving a hand.

“What’s up?” He squinted, nodding his head towards me.

“Parker, this is the student I was telling you about. This is Gabe.” I nodded towards the guy who was ridiculously tall.

“I’m Parker.” I offered reaching out a hand.

“I’m Gabe.” He nodded.

“Parker is considering,” He paused correcting himself, “Well, I’m trying to get her to consider art criticism. I told her she should talk to you.”

And wow, this is more awkward than I thought it’d be. It’s like our teacher’s trying to set us up on a blind date or something.

“Oh, dude,” the guy started, “I can talk to you about that.”

“I told you,” Hansen sang, “But after my class, Saporta. I don’t need you holding up my students.”

“Don’t be like that,” Gabe shook his head as I yawned.

“College parties just are not forgiving.” Gabe shook his head patting my shoulder, “It’s okay though, you could be hung over, and tired.”

I chose not to argue. I just nodded my head and went to take my seat.

Hansen was about to start teaching when another teacher entered, and said something that caught his attention.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, class.” He stated before following the teacher out of the classroom. I breathed out relief before dropping my head to the table in front of me.

---

“Ms. Cane, class is over, you may go now.” I heard suddenly, and I lifted my head up confused.

“Goodmorning,” Hansen muttered sarcastically.

“Sorry,” I muttered, glancing around to see the classroom empty, “Sorry,” I repeated, standing quickly.

“It’s alright,” He nodded before adding, “Don’t let it happen again and talk to Gabe if you have the chance.”

“Alright,” I nodded, pulling my bag over my shoulder and turning out of the classroom.

I headed out of the building, walking down the stone steps and onto the main pathway.

“Hey!” I heard someone yelling, “Hey, Senorita!” I turned to see who wouldn’t shut up, when I saw that guy, Gabe or whatever the name was, advancing.

“Oh,” I muttered, “Hey.”

“Hansen said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh, yeah,” I nodded, “Hansen wanted me to talk with you,” I paused, “About changing my major or something,” I shrugged.

“Oh, yeah,” Gabe nodded as a guy hurrying down the path bumped into Gabe, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps.

“?Que es tu problemo, hombre?!” He called after the guy throwing his hands up.

"Anyway," Gabe muttered pulling out his phone and quickly replying to a text, "What are you in right now?"

"Art Education." I sighed.

"And what is Hansen trying to get you to consider?"

"Art Criticism."

"Oh," Gabe nodded, "I was majoring in that, but I switched."

"Why'd Hansen send me to you then?" I squinted.

"I didn't switch because I didn't like it or anything. I actually really liked it. Why aren't you considering it?"

"What if I don't interpret everything right?"

"Dude," He laughed, "It's criticism. You interpret it how you want to and based on that you can state whether you think it's crap or not. Think about movie critics. Like, take a movie that got one star. You go see it, and you love it. There's always going to be someone who disagrees."

"I just think that I'd feel like I was under too much pressure, plus, nobody likes movie critics."

"But people kiss up to them."

"I still don't know."

"Think about it." He shrugged, "If you decide it's not for you then okay, but if you want to do it, that's cool too. Here, give me your number." He handed my his phone.

"Oh," I mumbled shortly, "I don't have a phone or a landline really." I shrugged.

"Wow," He muttered, "You're a brave woman. Well, how can I get a hold of you?"

"Email." I shrugged.

"That's a bit old school, but hey, old school's coming back."

He entered my email address into his phone and told me he'd email me. I wouldn't be too let down if he didn't honestly.

I cut across campus towards where I'd parked the car, and I dug around in my bag for the keys.

"Hey!" I heard from my right, and I glanced up briefly stopping short when I saw Gerard.

"Oh," I nodded, "Hey,"

"What happened to your face?" He squinted.

I brought a hand up to finger the bruise that ran from the edge of my forehead, down my temple, and to the top of my cheek.

"Oh," I repeated, "I hit it on my headboard this morning when I was trying to turn off my alarm." I shrugged, close enough.

"Ouch." He winced sympathetically before, "Oh, hey, this is my little brother, Mikey. Mikey, this is Parker."

"Hey," I smiled towards him. He nodded in return.

"What time is it?" I asked Gerard.

"A little after Noon." He returned.

"Alright," I nodded, "What are you doing?"

"I think we were going to find somewhere to eat, but we have to be back here by one thirty. Want to come?" Gerard offered.

"Sure."

---

So, now, here I am, sitting in the back of Mikey's black taurus on the way to lunch.

We made polite conversation, and I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu.