ONE
NIKKI
“You like that, Salma?” Brandon asked before his eyes rolled back into his head and that weird smile beamed across his mouth.
My name isn’t Salma. It’s Nicole. But my real name didn’t matter at the moment because Brandon was in the midst of reenacting his Salma Hayek fantasy. For the nth time.
“Yeah, it’s so good,” I replied hesitantly. I was never really sure what I should say when we acted out this particular fantasy, one which seemed to keep repeating more often lately.
Brandon paused mid-thrust and then leaned down. He whispered into my ear (as if someone else were in the room who could hear him) “No! Say it with her accent.”
“Si, sooo goooood,” I said, using my best Hispanic accent. I ended up sounding more like I was attempting to converse with a deaf person in broken English.
“Yeah, take it, take that enormous rod!” Brandon continued, apparently okay with my botched attempt at Salma’s accent.
A few seconds later, Brandon stopped pushing inside me and frowned down before he pulled out of me completely. “I’m having a hard time picturing Salma when all I see is you looking back at me,” he complained dryly.
“Okay,” I said, not really sure how that was my problem. “And what exactly do you want me to do about it?”
“Bend over.”
I obediently flipped over so my butt was in the air. Seconds later, he was deep inside me again, thrusting long and slow before he picked up speed. Then he continued to increase his pace until he must’ve looked like he was on fast forward.
“Yeah, take it, Salma, take it!” he chanted as he smacked my right butt cheek and I silently wondered when all of this would be over. “Take all of it! The biggest rod you’ve ever had!”
Brandon’s definitely wasn’t the biggest “rod” I’ve ever had, and I was pretty sure his wouldn’t have been the biggest one Salma ever had either, but I restrained from commenting. Instead, I just clenched my eyes tightly and wondered how successful I could be in channeling Henry Cavill.
“Yeah, you want it, baby?” Brandon chirped as he smacked my other butt cheek. That was a relief because number one was already feeling sore. “You want me to shoot my load all over your hot butt, Salma, huh?”
And just like that, Henry packed his bags and skipped town.
“Si!” I called back, hoping his “load” would be expelled all over me in a matter of seconds. I did have homework to do, after all …
“Yes!” Brandon wailed. “Here it comes!” he yelled before pulling out of me. “Take it!” Barely three anemic dollops of his love juice landed on my lower back, feeling more like a bird shitting on me mid-flight.
He collapsed on his back beside me, closing his eyes as his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. After another few seconds, I realized he expected me to clean myself up. Sighing with mild irritation, I stood up and headed for the bathroom, vowing to reward myself with my trusty vibrator later.
***
Brandon was acting strange. Well, not so much strange, but more like really distant.
He was doing his best to avoid looking me in the eyes, and he was nowhere near as talkative as normal. Actually, I couldn’t say that was such a surprise. He’d been growing more withdrawn for the last week. I didn’t pry because I figured he was probably just busy. Or maybe I was really that awful at impersonating Salma …
As a senior in his last semester at Hamilton State, in upstate New York, Brandon was well beyond busy. He was also stressed out about finding a job and starting his “real life,” as he termed it. Add to that his determination to finish school in the middle of the year, and he was only making things all the more difficult on himself. Well, for both of us, if the truth be told.
Currently in my sophomore year, I too was attending Hamilton State, and ready to finish up my semester finals. That might not sound like such a big deal, but I wasn’t an average student. Nope, I’d unfortunately inherited my mother’s insistence on perfectionism. In translation, that meant I was currently freaking out about my finals, even though I’d started studying for them a month before most of the other students had.
“I was up until two a.m. last night studying for my history final,” I said to Brandon as we sat in the Student Union Building.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he answered without even looking up from his phone.
“I hope so.”
He ignored me, and the silence between us was suddenly stifling.
“So did you read the student paper yesterday? Apparently, whoever defaced the statues in the art garden is still at large,” I said, doing my best to lighten the mood. “Actually, some of the statues looked pretty funny. They painted penises on all of them,” I chattered on, sounding like the cheerful, little bird that I was. Usually my random musings managed to bring a smile to Brandon’s face, but not today. “Tough crowd,” I said with a sheepish laugh. “I’m talking penises, Brandon, penises!”
No reaction. Not even a raised brow to show his disappointment.
“Oh, my God! I almost forgot to tell you,” I remembered with a huge smile. I had to slap the tabletop with my palms just to get his attention.
It worked because he jumped about a foot into the air. “Jesus, Nikki!” he barked at me. “I’m right here! You don’t have to be so loud!”
“Oh, sorry,” I said with a small, tremulous laugh. “I just got excited because the Panhellenic Council is coming to visit ZTS!”
“Who?” he asked with no amount of interest. I had a half a mind to check his pulse just to make sure he was still breathing.
“The Panhellenic Counsel!” I repeated, then figuring I should probably explain who they were when he failed to respond in any way. “They’re the ones who decide if we’re going to be included in national membership.”
“Oh.”
“If they include us, that could be huge!” I explained, even though I knew I was mostly talking to myself by this point. “We’ve got so much stuff to do. I’m in charge of …”
“I think it’s time for us to break up,” Brandon interrupted, finally giving me all of his attention. His expression was that of someone who just took a bite of something bitter.
“Um, what?” I whispered in reply.
“We. Need. To. Break. Up.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” I answered as I eyed him skeptically.
“We’ve been over for a long time, Nik, and you know that,” he explained casually, his attention now returning to his phone.
“Um, this is news to me.”
Brandon looked up and stared directly at me with his gorgeous, pale blue eyes. They always reminded me of a clear, winter sky. But now, however, they seemed as unsympathetic as cold, hard steel.
“I just can’t do this anymore,” he stated unemotionally. “I can’t keep up this ruse we’ve got going on between us. I’ve got a ‘real life’ ahead of me. I want to start it with a clean slate. I can’t cling to the past or drag you and it along with me.”
What the fuck? The words pounded through my head. Last night I pretended to be Salma and now you’re breaking up with me?
“Are you going to say anything?” he asked.
My mind was suddenly a blank slate. I was numb.
“Well, anyway, I’ve taken a job offer in Phoenix,” Brandon continued.
“Phoenix?” I repeated after finally finding my voice, but even though I repeated the word, I couldn’t say I actually had any comprehension as to its meaning.
“After I finish my last final, I’m leaving,” Brandon continued. “I want to get out there as soon as possible, so I can, you know, settle in.”
“So this is coming out of nowhere,” I finally managed, glaring at him as a parade of feelings suddenly started to overwhelm me, anger being at the forefront.
“I’ve been battling with it for a while,” he admitted with a frown.
“But you never told me there was anything wrong! You never gave me a chance to try and fix whatever wasn’t working!”
“We just aren’t right for each other anymore. You’re still a college student and I’m over that now. I’m ready for the real world.”
“College is real and you’re still a college student!” I yelled in protest. I was fully aware that I sounded like a child, but I was sick of hearing the idea that “real life” didn’t include us being in school. If this wasn’t real life, then what the fuck was it?!
He seemed uncomfortable, and I noticed a couple of people sitting at tables nearby that suddenly glanced up at us. “Can you keep your voice down please?” he asked, spearing me with a merciless glare.
“Are you seriously asking me to keep my voice down?” I demanded, about ready to scream at the top of my lungs.
He stood up and shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Nik, but you and I are done. I wish you were mature enough to just accept it with some grace instead of doing what you’re doing and making a scene.”
“Um, this is hardly a scene,” I threw back at him, suddenly wishing I could force myself to puke all over his brand new shoes.
He looked down at me for another few seconds before taking a deep breath and turning abruptly to walk away. And then he just left me there. Just. Like. That. Left me trembling with anger, indignation, hurt and shock.
I watched him weave his way through the round tables, which were dotted with students and a few professors. Once he reached the main set of double doors, he glanced back at me. Smiling sadly, he gave me a little wave before he disappeared from sight.
A little wave, like he expected to catch up with me later for dinner. A little wave like he hadn’t just torn the rug out from underneath me. A little wave like that final conversation wasn’t such a big deal.
I struggled to muster the strength it took to get up from my chair and make the enormous trek across campus back to the ZTS house. The idea of walking the two or so miles left me completely drained. I didn’t even know how I would make it.
“Nikki? Are you okay?”
The soft touch of tentative fingertips on my shoulder made me look up into the familiar face of Stacy Johnson, fellow ZTS sister, and the biggest gossip this side of fucking Phoenix.
“No,” I started before losing the ability to form coherent words.
“You look really pale,” Stacy continued. “I can take you to the med center, if you like,” She crooned as she pulled out a chair beside me. “Have you had anything to eat today? I mean, I know you were on a diet, but starving yourself is no way to do it. You saw what anorexia or bulimia or whatever Alice Gordon had did to her.” She shook her head and frowned. “Not a good look.”
The only thing I could do was stare at her, even though I was unaware of what she was even saying. I could see her lips moving, but her words weren’t registering with me.
“You look like you’re going to puke. And if you think you are, you should definitely let me know ahead of time ’cause I have like three more classes, and I don’t want to smell like throw up for the rest of the day.”
Stacy wasn’t my friend by any stretch. Most days, I didn’t even like her. Right now, though, she was the closest thing to a friend I had. The sad truth was I’d spent most of my time with Brandon, and never really nurtured many friendships among my sorority sisters at all with the exception of my roommate, Dani.
“Nikki, are you going to throw up?” Stacy repeated.
“No,” I managed.
“So what’s …”
“It’s over.” They were the only comprehensible words I could force from my lips.
“What are you talking about? What’s over?” she asked, shaking her head.
“We’re done!” I blurted out suddenly. “We’re over, kaput, finished!”
Stacy just sat there, looking stunned. “You’re talking about Brandon, right?”
“No, I’m talking about Abraham fucking Lincoln!” I barked back, not meaning to sound so sharp, but I couldn’t help it. “Yes, I’m talking about Brandon!” As soon as I saw the injured expression on Stacy’s face, I immediately regretted my acidic tone. “I’m sorry,” I said while shaking my head and feeling completely moronic.
“Oh, no,” Stacy said. She pressed her head against my shoulder in the most awkward hug ever. Then she pulled away, thank God. “We should probably get you back to the house, dontcha think?”
Grabbing my backpack, Stacy slung it over her shoulder before I could even decide if I wanted to spend the next twenty or so minutes with her. Even though I probably needed company, Stacy’s company fucking sucked. But, she was the only one here to help. I stood up with resignation, grabbing my sunglasses from my backpack and put them on.
“It’s going to be okay,” Stacy promised, but I was more focused on the fact that it probably looked like she was volunteering for community service by helping a blind student.
Good for her.