Everything in me shudders. I don’t stay to watch him go, but head inside to finish curling my hair.
Thankfully, Crosby doesn’t rev the engine unnecessarily before taking off, like I would have thought he’d do.
TWO
Crosby
Leela Gamble is even moredelectable in person. All those articles on social media about her did not do her justice, but I have them to thank for showing me what I didn’t know I needed.
On the other hand, I’m glad none of those pictures showed her tush. Big, round, sturdy, and all for me. Just enough for the grabbin’ and the pushin’. I don’t need anyone else staring at that adorable body. She’s all for me. Just me.
Now that I’ve planted a seed, I wait for her to send me a signal. I gotta be careful with her. She’s a proper lady, and I’m nothing. I don’t know nice manners and shit.
And I don’t have time to learn manners between my pre-med studies and my studies of Leela’s entire life history. Learning how to get to her.
Tonight, I’m camped out at a table by the window at O’Shea’s, unable to focus on Anatomy 101. The bar’s atmosphere is chill, with just enough chatter to suit me as background noise while I study. There’s a booth of middle-aged folks watching the game. A low-key group of college guys plays pool in the next room. I sip my glass of ale and stare at my notes, and nothing is sinking in. Strange that I can’t think. Last weekend I owned this table for two days and knocked out a couple of essays and lecture notes. Tonight, my concentration is worthless.
I take another sip of my beer and gaze out the window. Something tall and red catches my eye, and wouldn’t you know it? Leela Gamble and a gaggle of gal pals, all dressed to the nines. They’re laughing and scurrying along a crosswalk in the opposite direction from the bar. Leela’s tight red dress hugs her hips so perfectly that it sets my teeth on edge. Not because she’s not delicious to look at, but because someone else might see what I see. And I don’t want anyone else looking at her that way.
Dammit. I force myself to wait a few minutes before following Leela; my loud-ass bike will give me away, and the last thing I need is for someone to call the cops. Finally, after several torturous minutes, I shove my books and notebooks and pens into my knapsack and pay my tab.
Minutes later, I’m smirking at the banner that has been swagged across the entrance to the Zeta Gamma Nu fraternity house: “Cause for Paws.”
A perky woman in a sparkly dress greets me at a makeshift kiosk. “Your invitation? I need to scan it so you can get your wristband.”
“Wristband? Wow, Parties are complicated these days.”
The young woman blinks at me as if I am speaking gibberish. “I’m sorry? I don’t know what to do here. I just need to scan your ticket.”
Pressing my palm to my sternum in a gesture of apology, I reply, “I apologize. I must have left my ticket at home. I’ll just run inside, write a check, grab my swag bag, and I’ll be out of your hair. All right?”
Her face blanches. “Swag bag?”
A tall, preppy dude with glasses and a bow tie approaches and rests a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Is this guy bothering you, Mila?”
She pulls away from him like she doesn’t want him touching her. “No, he just doesn’t have a wristband, so—”
A familiar voice calls out from nearby.
“Mila, it’s all right! It was a misunderstanding.”
I see Leela rushing over, that red dress still clinging to every curve. She moves effortlessly in a pair of killer heels. Her hair bounces with every step, a blanket of shiny curls falling to her shoulders. No wonder she’s in charge. Leela has the walk of someone who knows exactly what to do and say at any moment. I would not want to go up against her in court; she could wither anyone’s dick with a single glance. And I’ve never wanted anyone more.
Mila and the tall preppy guy turn to look at Leela as she comes up. “He doesn’t have a ticket,” Mila explains.
Leela nods. “I know. He paid. I forgot to give him the ticket. I’m such a ninny.”
She taps her knuckle on her head to emphasize how supposedly scatterbrained she is.
Mila turns to me. “And you are?”
I thrust out my hand. “Crosby. Nice to meet you.”
The seated woman looks from me to Leela. “Is he in Zeta Gamma Nu? I’m confused.”
“It is confusing, isn’t it? I’ll explain later, sweetie,” Leela says. Then, turning to me, she takes me by the crook of my arm and drags me into the party.
Behind us, I can hear the preppy dude still trying to work his charms on that woman named Mila. “You know, at first, I found the whole idea of a plus-sized only sorority to be promoting an unhealthy lifestyle. But now that I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve realized that I…ah…actually prefer women with more meat on their bones. It’s very alluring.”