“COME ON, JUST ONE HIT,” Landon coaxes me, waving the joint in front of my face, eyes low. His goofy grin is on full display, Ken doll hair styled, teeth almost too white against his tan skin.
Giggling, I push his arm away and twist the top off my water bottle. “Not tonight. I still need to pack and I don’t want to forget something because I’m high,” I lie. The truth is that I packed this morning. I’ve never smoked before and I certainly don’t plan on trying it now. When you’re high, you don’t have full control of yourself — and I’m not letting that happen again.
“It’s Spring Break, Ex!” He takes another pull before passing to his brother on the other couch. The Mu Beta Chi house isn’t the top party house on campus, since that title is firmly held by Omega Chi Beta, but it is a strong contender. The Mu boys are known for their involvement in student government mostly, though they do throw pretty solid ragers. “At least have a beer. Or a fruity cocktail. I’ll even make you a vodka water so you don’t break the diet.”
“I think the Chinese food we ate earlier kind of ruined that already,” I point out, pulling my legs up on the cushion to sit Indian style and dodging the drink offer. Again, alcohol equals stupid decisions. I’ve learned my lesson.
In probably the most excruciating way.
“You can’t say you didn’t thoroughly enjoy teaching me how to use chopsticks.”
“You were pretty adorable.”
“Almost as adorable as you in that sundress,” he says sweetly, kissing my cheek.
Landon has been nothing but a gentleman since our first date. He took me to coffee first, but not in the morning. Instead, he picked me up at nearly midnight, driving us to a swanky coffee shop downtown that stays open until 2:00 a.m. with live acoustic music. We spent the night talking, and for the first time since I made the most horrific choice of my life, I smiled. And laughed. And had a good time.
Since then, we’ve been to the beach together, studied in Greek library, and he even went shopping with me to pick out my Spring Break swimsuits — not that he found that a particularly boring date. He’s picked up the bill at every event, and though I haven’t let him move even a hair past first base, he seems content with what we have. He reminds me a lot of the men my mom read about in her historical romances. He takes his time, he’s patient.
Still, I'm not naïve enough to think Landon is anything but a numbing device, a distraction, a flimsy umbrella fighting against the storm inside me. When I'm by myself, the storm rages so hard I feel every gust of wind all the way to my core. But Landon is almost always available, and he's the storm shelter - at least for now.
The Mu house is buzzing, filled with brothers and sorority girls kicking off the first night of Spring Break. Landon pulls my legs into his lap and absentmindedly rubs my calves as he and his brothers chat over the music. Tomorrow, most of us will go our separate ways, including Landon and me. I’ll be headed to Key West with the Omega Chis while he jets north to Panama City Beach with his brothers and the Zetas.
The realization that I’ll be spending a week in close proximity to Clinton is one I’ve been trying to grasp unsuccessfully. I can’t for the life of me figure out why he makes me feel so out of control. I keep trying to convince myself my head is just messed up from what happened, because what else could it be? It’s not like I like him. I mean, this is Clinton we’re talking about. I mean sure, I invited him to semi-formal with me, but only because his fraternity was on lockdown. I was being nice. And yeah, his sex appeal was comparable to Chris Hemsworth with his Thor hammer that night and we had a good time, but we were drunk — wild — and things just happened. Neither of us wanted them to. It’s all just some sort of twisted fluke.
Still, every time I see him, my body does weird things — things it hasn’t done in what feels like forever — and I can’t get a grip.
The alarm on my phone sounds and I silence it quickly, pulling my feet from Landon’s grasp and standing. “That’s my cue. Time to finish packing and help my sisters decide on bathing suits.”
“Tough job,” Landon mocks, pushing to his feet. He grabs my hand in his and walks me out the front door, pulling me into his hard body as soon as the fresh night air hits our skin. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while longer? Kick Spring Break off the right way…” He trails off, his lips just barely brushing the skin of my neck.
Uncomfortable, I shrug away from him and pretend to be teasing. “You’ll have plenty of girls on the beach more than willing to take you up on that offer.”
“I’d rather wait for you,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His smile is so kind, glass-like eyes sincere, and for some reason I believe him when he says he’d wait. Part of me feels awful for even letting him think he has a chance, because I know in my heart I’m nowhere near ready to sleep with another man — I may never be.
Some girls my age see accidental pregnancy as a curse, a mistake, a run of “bad luck”. I see it as a privilege, one that I threw away so carelessly for selfish reasons. If I can ever find it in me to forgive myself, I’d still have to push past my fear of landing in the same situation again.
Nope, control is my only option.
“Goodnight, Landon,” I say softly, lifting up on my toes to kiss his slightly-chapped lips.
“Want me to walk you?”
“I’ll be okay. I like the time to think.” I smile through one of the only true sentences I’ve uttered all night.
“Have fun, but not too much,” he adds, winking.
“You too.” With one last wave, I adjust my purse strap on my shoulder and start down Greek row toward the Kappa Kappa Beta house.
It only takes a few steps for the loneliness to sink in. The front door opens and closes behind me, letting the laughter and cheers escape for just a short moment before the silence of campus on Spring Break blankets me completely.
I listen to my sandals clack against my heel with each step, trying my best to keep the dark thoughts at bay, but like monsters they creep in through the night and settle in around me. In the past weeks, I’ve trained myself to choose numbness over feeling, having yet to shed a single tear or scream or sigh over what happened. It’s in the past, I tell myself, and the only thing to do now is move on.
The Kappa Kappa Beta house is alive with laughter and music as I make my way up the hardwood stairs to my room. All the doors are propped open, sisters bouncing from room to room with bathing suits and bottles of alcohol in hand. Mom Cindy doesn’t even bother checking on us tonight because she knows she’d have to suspend the whole chapter if she did.
Ashlei is in Bo and Cassie’s room when I get to ours and I take what’s likely to be the only alone time I get in the next week and slip into our bathroom, shutting the door behind me. My palms braced on the pearl white sink, I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose, steeling myself for the challenges coming my way. Splashing water on my face, I dab my eyes and cheeks dry with a fluffy yellow hand towel and catch my dark eyes in the mirror.
For the next week, I’ll have to be around the father of a child I never gave birth to.
A sharp pang rolls through my stomach and I double over, my palms finding the sink again as I grit my teeth through the ache. I’m so disappointed with myself, so disgusted. It seems utterly impossible to move on from who I am in this moment.
I’m hoping Spring Break will help me get past this, but inside my heart I know the chance is slim. The truth is, there are some challenges we face in our lives that completely change us. We step into a moment in time as one person and emerge in new skin, with a new, slightly-battered heart that doesn’t beat the same. I’m still getting used to my new self, and the only way I know how to deal is to exert power over everything I can. I’m unsteady, trying to find balance at the edge of a cliff I’ve never been on before.
I just hope I don’t fall in the process.