“I don’t know . . . I kind of need to study.” She looked upward, where I assumed her apartment was.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll just go home and try not to think about how lonely I am.” I fake-sniffled and wiped beneath my eyes with the back of my hand.
Her posture relaxed and she laughed. Five minutes later we were in my apartment, the television on while we sat together on the couch. We chatted a little, and I learned that she was a business major, and that she had grown up in Bellevue. Currently, she lived with three other roommates in a two-bedroom apartment upstairs, and she only got along with one of them.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, thinking about Amber sitting in the exact spot where Whitney was now, telling me about Daniel—the harsh edge in my friend’s voice when she said, “You’re just jealous.” My skin began to itch and my heart, to pound. I set my hand on the top of Whitney’s leg.
“No,” she said. “I kind of like older guys.” Her cheeks flushed, and taking this revelation as permission, I kissed her. I rolled to my side, pressing my erection against her hip, and she didn’t pull away. When I gently lifted her hand and put it on me, she hesitated, but didn’t protest. She kept her eyes closed.
It was over quickly, and afterward, when she had gone home, I lay in bed, telling myself that I deserved something like this—something fun, something casual—something that was nothing more than no strings attached. Because the truth was, while Whitney was many things—she was young, she was hot, she was available—she would never be enough.
She would never be Amber.
Amber
It was snowing in Eastern Washington on New Year’s Day, making my drive back to Pullman more treacherous than usual. The roads over Snoqualmie Pass were icy, and chains were required, so I was happy my father had insisted I learn how to put them on my tires without anyone’s help. After a tense, seven-hour trip—an hour longer than it normally would take—I opened the door to my apartment to find Daniel stretched out on my bed, waiting for me, just as he’d told me he’d be.
“Hey, you,” he said, standing up to his full six-foot height.
“Hey,” I said, with a big smile. I dropped my bags to the floor and jumped up, locking my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He held me like that, neither of us speaking, his face pressed into the crook of my neck and mine in his, breathing each other in. I thought about the first time I’d seen him, back in July, when he started working out during the same hours I was on shift as a trainer at the gym. We’d smile and nod at each other, and sometimes I’d catch him watching me with a client as I issued instructions on how to use the medicine ball or free weights, until, finally, I approached him at the juice bar, putting one hand on my hip. “Are you trying to decide if you want to hire me?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” he said, and his mouth curled into an amused smile. He had short, thick, black hair and heavily lashed brown eyes. His skin was naturally tan, and I guessed that he was of some kind of Hispanic descent. He was muscular, but not overtly so, and he wore loose gray nylon shorts and a blue tank top.
“Then why, exactly, have you been staring at me?” I said, standing up a bit straighter. I was not a high-maintenance girl—I came to the gym to work, not to be the hottest chick in the room, so I was barefaced, sweaty, and my hair was in a topknot bun. I found myself checking out his biceps, wondering if I could bench-press as much as he could.
“I’m Daniel,” he said, holding out his hand, which I stared at for a moment before shaking it and giving him my name. “So, Amber,” he continued. “Would you like to go rock climbing with me this weekend?”
It took me a moment to respond, realizing that I’d been expecting him to ask me out, but to a frat party or a bar, like most guys my age would do, which was a huge reason that I’d never had a serious boyfriend. The ones I’d dated all seemed like little boys trapped in men’s bodies, and I wasn’t interested in having a long-term relationship with an adolescent. The fact that Daniel wanted to do something adventurous and physically challenging immediately made him stand out.
I accepted his invitation, and after we spent a long, sweaty Saturday afternoon together climbing rocks at Minnehaha just outside of Spokane, we went for sushi, which it turned out we both loved. I learned that his last name was Garcia, and that he was the youngest sibling in his immediate family. All three of his older sisters were makeup artists who’d started a business together in Los Angeles, leaving their parents in Denver with the rest of his numerous extended relatives. “Fun fact,” he said. “I have thirty-two first cousins.”
“Shut up,” I said, holding my empty chopsticks, midair, above my plate. “You do not.”
He laughed and nodded. “No joke.”
“How do you remember all their names?” My eyes went wide, trying to imagine how it would feel to be part of such a huge family. I had exactly three cousins, all of whom lived in Oregon, and who I saw only at our infrequent reunions.
“A lot of the guys are named Jesus,” Daniel said. “So that helps.”
We both laughed, and he went on to tell me that he’d chosen Washington State University for its exceptional premed, physiological bachelor of science program. “I’m going to be a sports medicine doctor,” he said. “Maybe work for the NFL someday.”
“No way,” I said. “It’s, like, my dream job to be a trainer for the Seahawks.”
“You like football?”
“Love it. Grew up watching with my dad.”
“Awesome,” Daniel said. “We should hit a few Cougar games this season then.”
“I’d love to,” I said, unable to eat anything more due to the giddy, skipping feeling inside my belly. Even though it was still the middle of summer and we were only on our first date, he was already talking about the two of us being together in the fall. I was attracted to Daniel’s looks, but even more so to his easygoing nature, intelligence, and sense of humor. I loved that, like me, he was a goal setter, someone who knew what he wanted out of life and was willing to work hard to get it. The arousal I felt in his presence, the chemistry between us, was undeniable.
When he walked me to my door after dinner, Daniel cupped my face with both of his hands. “So, that was fun,” he said, leaning in to kiss me, softly at first, then more insistent. I felt an ache between my legs that took me over, and then I did something I hadn’t done before on a first date—I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside my apartment, then led him to my bed.
“You’re sure?” he asked as we toppled over and I began to push down his shorts. He was above me, bracing himself with both arms so he wouldn’t squish me.
“Yes,” I hissed. I wanted to sleep with Daniel, and the fact that he paused to make sure of that made me want him even more.