Chapter 9

 

I didn't see Rico as we stepped outside of Gatsby's into the cool night air. But then again, I was concentrating more on the fact that Betsy was holding onto my hand and she had the softest hands ever.

There was a row of cabs lined up, so I opened the door to the first one and Betsy slid in. I ran around to the other side and got in next to her.

The driver was a younger guy, with a newsboy cab and he reeked of weed. I was hoping the ride wouldn't be too long.

"2313 Oak Street. On the corner of Maple and Oak. Big brick building," Betsy said.

"And the Alpha Mu house on Greek Row."

Betsy shook her head and squeezed my hand. "No. Just Oak Street."

The cabby's bloodshot eyes met ours in the mirror. "So which one is it?"

I looked at Betsy and knew as soon as her eyes met mine, I was a goner. "Oak Street. Just Oak Street."

 

***

 

I whipped the first bill I could out of my wallet and handed it to the driver. I didn't even know how much I tipped him and I didn't care.

Finally, the good guy had won!

I was going home with the girl and...

Shit. I was going home with Betsy!

In my haze, I'd forgotten the fact that I wasn't going to sleep with her. I was going to be a friend, but now, we were really going into her apartment. She really had the key out and stepped inside.

I followed her, reluctantly and kept my mouth shut.

Truthfully, I'd never gone home with a girl, so I didn't even know the rules on how these things went, or how to tell her I wasn't up for sex.

Her apartment wasn't anything special. It looked like just about every other apartment on campus, with an overstuffed blue sofa and chair, facing a small flat screen TV in the living room and a small, outdated, galley kitchen to the left of that. There were four doors on the opposite wall, all shut and Betsy pulled me to the last one.

As soon as she opened the door, there was no mistaking that the room was hers. It smelled like her. That beautiful floral scent of whatever perfume or shampoo she used.

The room was really clean. Almost sparse. An old wooden dresser was in one corner and opposite that, a bed with a gray comforter and a picture above it. I stepped closer and stared at it. It wasn't just a picture, but an oil painting of a lake. It was all in black and white with hints of gray as storm clouds rolled in. I'd never seen anything like it.

"This is a cool painting," I said.

Betsy took a step closer to me. "Thanks. It was just a little something I did."

My eyes widened as I turned to her. "You seriously painted this?"

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip as she pointed to the bottom corner. "Yeah. That's my signature there in the corner. There's a lake near my grandmas that my sister and I used to always go to. I'd get bored and do a lot of sketching, then sketching turned into painting and then you get things like this."

"Wow. You're really talented. You could totally be in a gallery or something."

She shook her head. "No. This is just a hobby. Something I like to do to get my mind of off...everything."

I looked down at her wrists, Rico's handprints still on them. Slowly, I pulled her wrists to my lips and gently kissed each little red mark. "We all need our escapes and this seems to be a good one."

She licked her lips. "I know something else that helps me escape."

I stepped back and dropped her wrists. "Don't be pissed, Betsy, but I'm not here to sleep with you."

She sighed. "I know. I know. You're too good of a guy for that. The best, actually."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay..."

She sat down on the bed and patted the seat next to her. "I just want you to lie here with me. Can you at least do that? The worst place to be is alone in my own head and it would be nice to have someone else here."

I nodded, slowly sitting down next to her. "Yeah. I can do that."

We sat there, uncomfortably silent for a few minutes before I finally spoke, blurting out the first thing I could think of to break the science. "I like comic books."

"Um, what?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"That's my escape. Comic books. Hero movies. Video games. Any of that stuff. I'd rather spend my time with Marvel, than be in the real world."

She smiled. "I don't think I've ever actually read a comic book, but I've seen a few movies and watched you play some Xbox at the house."

I could feel my cheeks warm. "You've actually watched me play video games?"

She nodded. "I like watching people do what they really enjoy. You can see something change about their whole appearance. Almost like that's who they're really supposed to be but too afraid to show the world."

That was the same face Betsy had when she talked about her artwork. The girl with the blonde hair and skimpy clothes didn't radiate when she was on the dance floor, but really did when she was reminiscing about her childhood and her art.

"Thanks," I said, because I really wasn't sure what else to say to that.

"I don't think you get enough credit. People always seem to sell you short."

I smiled. "I could say the same thing about you."

She shook her head and looked down. "No. I don't. This is just who I am. The girl looking for attention in all the wrong places."

"We all make mistakes."

"Yeah, but I've made a lot of them." Her voice grew quiet. Almost a whisper.

I leaned in closer and put my hand on hers. "You don't have to let that define who you are. You're bright. Beautiful. And you have so many other things that are great about you. You don't need a guy like Rico, or any guy for that matter, to make you feel small."

She sniffled. "You're just saying that because you like me."

I shook my head. "I mean, yes, I do like you, but I mean everything I've said."

She looked up at me with tears brimming her eyes. I wanted to kiss her and not kiss her at the same time. But instead I just stood there looking at her.

"Lay with me?" She asked. "At least until I fall asleep."

I nodded. "Yeah. I can do that."

Truth be told, this was only the second time I'd ever slept with a girl. Yes, I'd had sex, but never the whole cuddling-and-falling-asleep-thing.

I pressed my back against the wall, as she pressed her back against my chest. We fit perfectly, as my arm looped around her waist. It was as if that's where I was meant to be.

Maybe I was.

"Goodnight, Leonel," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Betsy."