Finding A Place

Chapter 7

As I had anticipated, the roomie woke me up around 8:30 with all his banging and cursing.

"You know," I said sleepily, "with you around, who needs an alarm clock?"

"Sorry, Rooms," Jake laughed. "I know I'm a pain in the a*s in the morning. Used to drive my little brother nuts back when we shared a room."

"That's OK. I don't want to sleep all day anyhow."

"How'd the date go?" he asked.

"Really well, actually."

"Told ya!"

"Yes, you did," I grinned. "We went for sushi. I'd never had it. I liked it."

"Give me a bratwurst any day."

"Yep, you're from Milwaukee, all right," I laughed. "Then we went to the movies."

"So, did Mr. Inexperienced kiss her goodnight?" he laughed.

"Didn't have a chance. She kissed me before I even finished agonizing about whether or not to try," I grinned.

"Good for her!"

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Must be someone from the team," Jake said, and went to answer the door.

"Nope, you're not on the football team," I heard him laugh.

I heard a familiar giggle from the other side of the door. "Hi, I was looking for Brendan."

"You must be Sheila," Jake said.

"And you must be Jake."

"In the flesh. Come on in," and he opened the door.

"Jesus, Rooms, I'm not dressed!" I said from-thankfully-under the covers.

"Is that my hello?" Sheila giggled.

"Hello. Do you mind if I get dressed?" I smirked.

"You really do embarrass easily," she laughed. "Are you completely n***d?" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Well, boxer shorts."

"Then, who cares?" she grinned. "You've seen me in a swimsuit. Anyway, do you have any plans today?"

"Well, this afternoon, I was going over to the stadium to see Rooms over there decapitate UCLA's quarterback."

"Jake Atkinson, number 58, at your service. Quarterback demolition a specialty."

Sheila giggled. "That sounds like fun. Would you mind company?"

"Not at all," I said, flabbergasted.

"Good. First, the reason I'm here so early is I was looking for someone to eat with."

"OK. That sounds good," I said. "I was thinking about brunch myself."

"And his usual eating partner has to go eat at the training table," Jake grinned.

"Good, then that's settled," Sheila said.

"Great. Uh, but, would you please mind going out of the room so I can get dressed?"

"Damn. I wanted to see," she giggled. "OK, fine, I'll step out for a minute. Hurry up!"

"Yes, ma'am," I said as she slipped out the door.

I got out of bed and found some clothes. Jake came over to me and said, softly, "Man, Brendan, this girl really likes you! And she's cute as all hell."

"That, Rooms, is scarier than UCLA's offensive line."

"I'm not scared of UCLA's offensive line," he said. "I can handle 'em. And you know what, Bren? You can handle this. She's making it easy for you. Most girls play the game. She's not-probably because she's figured out you don't know the rules. Go out for a date, and then show up at the guy's door at 9 the next morning? This does not happen! She's making it easy. I'll bet you wouldn't have called her today, left to your own devices. You probably would've stared at the phone all day, wanting to call, but not do it."

"You know me too well," I laughed.

"And I'm sure she knew the same thing."

"You're right, she is making it easy."

"She is. Go with it, you understand me?"

"I'll do my best."

"You decent?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Good." He stepped out of the door. "He's all yours," he grinned to Sheila.

"Hit 'em hard, Rooms," I called after him.

"Always do." With that, he headed down the hall.

She came back in, smiling. I took a good look at her. It was still warm in Palo Alto-in fact, we were in a spell of a few days in the mid-eighties. Not what I was used to in mid-October in Chicago, that's for sure! And she was dressed for the weather. Shorts. A blue spaghetti-strap belly shirt. Sandals. She even had her toenails painted bright red. It was very sexy-the sexiest I had ever seen her dress, not counting the swimsuit of course. I wondered if it was deliberate. Jesus, that was a frightening thought!

"Are you all set, Mr. Shy?" she smirked. I just nodded. "Good. Then let's go! I'm starving." She grinned and grabbed my wrist, giving it a little playful tug. I panicked and tried to pull my wrist out of her hand. She noticed the panic-and then she noticed my wrist.

Fuck. My deep dark secret.

"What's this?" she said, turning my wrist over to look.

"Accident," I lied lamely.

"Brendan, my mother's an emergency room nurse, and I'm pre-med... I know a few things. You don't get scars like this on your wrist from an accident. They're too straight and even." I didn't say anything. "When?" she asked.

"A couple of summers ago," I admitted. "About three weeks before junior year began."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't like to talk about it," I said.

She looked at me, confused, then sat down on my bed. "Bren, come here and sit," she said. I did. "Look, I just don't get it. Why? Why would you do something like that? Someone who has so much going for them? Jesus, you're the smartest person I know!"

"Yep," I agreed bitterly. "You want another word for 'smartest person you know'? I have one for you. That word is freak. I'm a goddamn f*****g freak, and that's how I've been treated most of my life. Faced with the reality of going back to the t*****e chamber called high school, I snapped."

"Was it that bad?"

"Let's see," I said, "there was the broken wrist in ninth grade. The concussion from having my head slammed into a brick wall in tenth grade. We'll just gloss over the minor bumps and bruises. And I haven't even got into the verbal a***e. And let's just say that the first person I've ever considered a real friend is Jake, and I met him all of a month and a half ago. Look, first of all, I wrecked the curve in every class I was in, for twelve years of school. Plus I'm skinny and weak-after watching you swim, I have no doubt you could kick my a*s. Add to the fact that I'm socially inept-well, I spent twelve years with a target on my back. I do not fit into the world I live in-so I made an attempt to leave it."

"What happened?"

"My mother came home unexpectedly. She thinks she had a vague premonition. That part I do regret, because my parents were never the problem and I put them through hell."

"I knew you had a bad time in high school, but I didn't know it was this bad." She took a breath. "You regret failing, don't you?"

"I did then, for a long time. Of course, word got around, and I was treated like more of a freak. Funnily enough, I was picked on less. People steered clear of me, because then I was 'the crazy person' in addition to the rest of my defects. Being invisible isn't fun, but it's better than being beaten."

"Well, I need to say something. Two things, actually." She took a breath again. "I am so happy that you failed, I can't tell you." I looked up at that one, startled. "Second of all-look, I'm not going to argue with what you were feeling. Only you live in your head. However, I need to tell you something. You're not socially inept. You may have been then-or you may have been when you were younger, those things tend to linger when you go through school with a lot of the same people for years." I nodded. "But you're not now. You need to know that."

"Well, you see it. I don't know if anyone else does."

"I get the feeling that Jake does," she smiled.

"You're right. He does," I admitted. "You guys make it easy. Both of you. I don't know how much of it is me."

"More than you think," she said. "Hey, let's go eat, all right?"

"Yeah," I smiled.

"I'm glad you told me," she said.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," I grinned.

"I'm very good at that," she grinned back. We headed off to the dining hall. We had a nice chat-thankfully, the topic of my suicide attempt was dropped-and then she told me, as we finished eating, "Hey, I have to swim. I still want to go to the game with you, but I need to get an hour in. Come with?"

"Sure, I don't mind watching you," I said.

"Actually, it's free swim time right now. You have a swimsuit?"

" Me? Swim with you? I'd be too embarrassed."

"Hey, I wasn't too embarrassed to do calculus with you, was I?"

"Hmm. Good point. OK, my swimsuit's in my room."

"That's the spirit." We went and got my swimsuit, and went to the aquatic center. We changed, and I met her on the pool deck.

"And you didn't want me to see you in boxer shorts," she smirked at me in just my swimsuit. I blushed from head to toe.

We found side-by-side lanes, and jumped in. I started swimming, just a basic freestyle stroke. She hung back for a minute, and then started backstroking. It was a 25-meter pool. I was 10 meters down before she even started. She caught me at 20 meters. Whoooooosh! I was not even halfway back before she passed me doing her second lap. I thought she was fast watching her from the stands. Right next to her? It was like walking alongside a freight train.

After a few more laps-it was my third, and about her fifth or sixth-she waited for me at the end of the pool.

"Now you're going to tell me you're just getting warmed up, right?" I said.

"Of course," she grinned. "Don't forget for a second that I'm a world-class competitive swimmer, OK?"

"I'm not. It's fine. But, boy, being this close... I feel like I keep getting caught in the wake of a speedboat."

She giggled. "You know what? You're a good swimmer-for an amateur. Nothing to be ashamed of." She looked at me. "It's a pity you're too old to take it up seriously. You have the body for it."

"Excuse me?" I laughed. "You have more muscles in your big toe than I have on my entire body."

"Well, if you were doing it competitively, you'd weight train, silly," she laughed. "Anyhow, though, I'm a backstroker. What you have the body for is the butterfly. Even when butterfliers put on muscle, they're all long and lean."

"Butterfly?"

"I'll teach you," she grinned. "Even for recreational swimming, for someone with your bodytype, you'll find it's more efficient." She taught me the basics of the butterfly, and had me work on it some while she went back to her power backstroking. She was right, though, I did find it easier. And I told her so.

"You picked that up quicker than I picked up calculus," she giggled.

"I'll have to get used to it, though-it's a shoulder movement I'm not used to. They're a bit sore."

"Yeah, that's the hardest part learning the butterfly."

"Do you swim the butterfly?" I asked her.

"Occasionally. I don't swim it in major competition, though at the college level you swim a lot of different strokes, so I may end up doing it here next year. However, I do swim the individual medley in competition, and that's all four strokes in succession."

We swam a bit longer, then got out and went to change. She met me outside the locker rooms.

"Almost game time," I said.

"Let's go."

We made our way to the stadium. We went in and found the student seating. Sheila looked around, and then we heard, "Hey, Sheila!"

Sheila waved, and said, "Come on!" to me, and we made our way in the direction of the shout. We went into the seating, and found two seats next to two girls, a tall brunette and a petite redhead.

"This is my roommate Andrea," she said, pointing to the redhead. "And this is our floormate Eileen. Guys, this is Brendan." I shook their hands, and we sat.

Uh-oh. Her alone-well, I was beginning to deal with that. Being around other people was still an anxiety attack causer.

"Is this the guy you went out with last night? The one who's helping you with calculus?" Andrea asked.

"This would be he, yes," she giggled.

"You like football?" the other one, Eileen, asked in a disbelieving tone of voice. It sounded like scorn to me-but Sheila squeezed my hand.

"To watch, yes," I replied. "I certainly don't play, not with this physique, but I've always been a fan." Andrea giggled. Sheila squeezed my hand again. "See number 58 for us?" I asked. They both nodded. "That's Jake Atkinson, my roommate."

"Jake Atkinson's your roommate?" Andrea asked. I nodded. "Oh, he's such a hunk!" she proclaimed.

"Get in line," I laughed. "When Sheila came and knocked on my door this morning, my first thought was that there's a girl at our door-and it's not for him? I almost fainted. I keep telling him I'm going to make him up a spreadsheet to help him keep track." All three girls giggled at that. "Hey, Jake's a football player, he's a hell of a nice guy-and I've heard that 'he's a hunk!' thing more than once. Guess what that adds up to? Chick magnet."

"And you just sit on the side and collect his leftovers," Andrea teased.

"NO WAY!" Sheila interrupted. "I met Brendan first. I didn't meet Jake until this morning, actually. I'm no leftover."

"No, you're not," I laughed. Andrea just looked at Sheila. "Anyhow, Andrea, since you're Sheila's roommate and all-you can be my leftover, and I'll just toss you on over Jake's way."

"YOU'RE ON!" she enthused, to laughter from all of us. Sheila squeezed my hand, and whispered in my ear, "I told you you weren't socially inept!"

Anyhow, we watched the game, we won. Jake had a great game-including two sacks, one of which I predicted before the play just from the formation, which really impressed the three girls. Sheila and I got up at the end of the game, and she said goodbye to her friends, and walked out of the stadium with me.

"It's almost supper time," she said. "You want to get supper and then find something to do tonight?"

"Sure," I said-though I was getting more amazed every second. This girl had been by my side since 9 am. It was almost 5 p.m. She was showing no desire to leave. Amazing.

We got supper, then went back to my room to contemplate the evening. Jake came in shortly after we got there.

"Yo, Rooms, nice game," I greeted him.

"Ain't I the best," he grinned, slapping me five. Then he turned and saw Sheila. "Wow, are you still here? Are you, like, stuck to him, or what?" he teased.

"Something like that," she grinned. "We're going to do something tonight, but what we're going to do is still under discussion."

"Good," Jake said. "This was our fourth home game of the year. After the first three, I tried to get him to come to the post-game party. He keeps refusing, even though it's a good time and I've promised I'll introduce him around and make sure he has fun. So, maybe you'll have better luck. If I know him, you've been leading him around by his nose all day, and he's let you-so keep doing it."

"HEY!" I yelled in mock-anger while Sheila giggled. "She has not led me around by my nose. Going to the game was my idea."

"Uh-huh. Only because you suggested it first," Jake said. "Am I right?" he asked Sheila.

"Well, yeah, I was going to suggest it," she giggled.

"See? Now drag him to the party." Jake said.

"I just don't do parties," I maintained.

"Look, Brendan, you did fine at the game, even with my friends." Sheila said. "You'll do fine at the party. Jake's going to know everyone there, and I bet I'll know most people. You'll be fine." She looked at Jake. "He thinks he's socially inept."

"That's crazy!" Jake said. He turned to Sheila. "Do you know how many people I have traipsing in and out of this room? Football buddies. Girls. They all like him. Socially inept, my ass." He turned to me. "You're shy, it's true-but you're not inept."

"That's what I keep telling him," Sheila added. "Brendan, listen. Let's try going to the party. If it's that bad for you, we'll leave and find something else to do."

I thought about it, and finally gave in. "OK. We'll give it a try."

We went, and it started out fine. I did know a lot of people there, some of Jake's friends from the football team, and even some of his girlfriends. People chatted with me like I was a normal person. Knowing something about football helped with the guys from the team-I could talk football and not sound like an i***t. That had never worked in high school, but it worked here. I even thought that a couple of the girls were trying to flirt with me. Not that I was sure about that, not having much experience being flirted with-but I'd seen 'em all flirt with Jake. Not that it mattered, anyhow, what with Sheila's arm wrapped possessively around mine. And I was not complaining about that!

After a bit, Sheila walked over to a cooler, and withdrew a beer. "Want one?" she asked.

"I'm not much of a drinker."

"That's OK. Far be it for me to try to talk you into it, that'd be contributing to the delinquency of a minor," she grinned.

"I'm surprised you drink. Training, and all that," I told her.

"That's why I drink very seldomly and very sparingly. I told you I don't go to parties often. When I do go, I have a good time-but I limit myself."

"Good philosophy." I reached in and grabbed a beer.

I had a few, over a bit of a time period-but, as I told her, I wasn't a drinker. Now, I wasn't drunk-but I was feeling it a bit. How much became apparent when, somehow, I ended up sitting in a chair-with Sheila on my lap! I'm not even sure how that happened! No, I wasn't drunk. I guess I was-loose, though. I was also hard. There was no doubt in my mind that she felt it underneath her a*s. I probably would've freaked out-if I hadn't been a wee bit tipsy.

"Hey, what's up?" Jake said, as he approached us.

"Howdy, Rooms!" I said.

"He's had a couple," Sheila laughed.

"Only a couple," I maintained.

"But you're having a good time," Jake said.

"Oh, I think he's having a very good time," she said-and ground her a*s on my d**k!

Jake just laughed. "I think you've had a couple yourself," he grinned at Sheila.

"Too true," she grinned back. "I'm as much of a lightweight as he is. Though not so I don't know what I'm doing, or anything."

"Good. Have fun. See you later."

We stayed for a while longer, and headed out about midnight. The party was closer to my dorm than hers, so she led me into mine.

"Hey, I should be walking you to your dorm, not the other way around, you know," I protested.

"You're drunker than I am," she giggled. "There's campus police all over, and it's only a block away, I'll be fine."

We walked down my hall. As was customary on a weekend night, there were a bunch of guys gathered in the hall, just chatting. They greeted me as Sheila and I walked down the hall-our arms around each other, by the way.

"Why are all your floormates staring at you?" she whispered after we got past them.

"Trying to figure out what you are doing with me, no doubt," I whispered back.

"Oh stop it!" she said.

"Hey, it's the truth."

"Fine," she said as we got near my door. "Let's really give them something to stare at," she grinned-and backed me up against the wall next to my door.

"Oh really," I grinned, as I put my hands on her waist. I was just drunk enough to go with it.

"Really." She threw her arms around my neck, and leaned in. We both leaned in. Like I said, just drunk enough. Our lips met.

When she kissed me yesterday-well, I don't want to call it chaste, but it was fairly innocent. This one was not. She bore into me, and I returned it-then her lips parted and her tongue snaked its way into my mouth. Looking back on it, if had been stone sober I would've frozen, right there. I know alcohol loosens your inhibitions. Some people don't need to have their inhibitions loosened, and probably shouldn't drink. However, I was so inhibited that every little bit helped. Under the effect of a few beers, I kissed her right back-tongue and all.

We finally broke the kiss under the overwhelming desire to breathe. By that point, I realized, she was practically pasted to me. She separated her body from mine with a visible effort.

"Wow, can you kiss!" she said.

"You are kidding."

"No. I know you haven't done it much-"

"Try ever," I interrupted.

"That was your first kiss?" she said, dumbfounded.

"Well, technically, last night was," I grinned. "I thought you would've figured that out from my story this morning."

"Yeah, I probably should have, but you-and we-I mean, wow!" She was flustered! I couldn't believe it.

"You're drunk," I teased.

"No, I am not," she asserted. "However, I am feeling a wee bit loose. So, I think I'd better leave now, OK? Because if I follow you into that room, something's going to happen that we're not ready for right now."

WHAT? I was sober enough to pick up on that! "OK," was all I said.

"See you later," she said, and kissed me again, a quick one. Then I watched her walk down the hall, followed by the eyes of my completely stunned floormates. "Goodnight, guys," she giggled, and disappeared around the corner.

Every eye turned back to me.

"Goodnight, guys," I grinned, and went into my room.