Chapter Five
Chocolate comes from a bean, a bean is a vegetable, therefore chocolate is healthy.
—Tensanne’s logic on dieting
Tensanne
“I’M WALKING ON sunshine, woohoo. It’s time to wake up, Tennie Girl,” sings from my phone signaling it’s time to wake up. The song Mom used to sing to me while we danced around the kitchen along with her recorded voice, makes me smile as I wake. Clicking the home button on my phone, I silence the song. Saddened a little that I force myself to wait until the next day to hear it again. I miss my mom but if I allow myself to wallow in my grief I won’t be able to make it through the day.
Rubbing my eyes, I squint to Ronnie’s bed. Through my blurry vision, I think her bed is empty. Putting my glasses on confirms she is already up and out of bed. Probably out running off all those calories she ate yesterday. I envy her dedication. That envy still isn’t enough to pry my ass out of bed to exercise though. Maybe she’ll exercise enough for the both of us; I can lose weight through osmosis. She does all the work, I reap the benefits. That would be my definition of perfect.
Sighing, I wrench myself from the bed, shuffling across the room to our little counter kitchenette consisting of a Keurig coffee maker and a microwave. Essentials for every college student. Popping the Carmel flavored k-cup in the brewer, slipping my mug under the spout, I press the brew button and enjoy the coffee aroma that fills the room as the hot nectar fills my cup. Adding cream and sweetener when it’s done, yawning, I plop in my high back, heated with vibrating rollers, office chair. If there is a God, he sits in one of these chairs. A congratulations gift from Ronnie’s parents for being a seventeen-year-old college sophomore. I could live in this chair, and I do on most days, spending long hours writing papers and studying.
Sipping my coffee, I feel it’s welcome burn all the way to my belly. Should I bother checking out social media today? A glinting shimmer in my peripheral vision catches my attention, looking to my left I see the little black bottle with the vintage lace.
“Oh, I forgot about you, my precious,” I purr to the bottle. Twisting the top, I hear a release of air, the smell of cinnamon fills my nose. Squeezing the eye-dropper plunger, blue liquid climbs up the plastic tube. Recalling Esmeralda, I hold the dropper over my mug releasing two drops. Taking my spoon, I give it a quick stir, bring it to my lips and take a big scalding gulp. “Oh, shit that’s hot,” I screech, holding my tongue out fanning it with my hand.
“Ten, are you chugging hot coffee again?” Ronnie asks, causing me to almost fall out of my comfy chair. I was so focused on the potion I didn’t hear her come in.
Scrambling to right myself, “Crap, Ron. Make some noise when you come in, you scared the bejesus out of me.”
“So, did you add the potion?” she asks, raising her eyebrows up and down at me in excitement.
“Yes, I did,” I state, sticking my chin in the air.
“Well, is it working?” she asks. My mouth opens with a response, pausing when a gust of air moves through the room smelling of roses, the wind ruffling my hair, a light jingle of bells ringing in my ears.
Turning my head back and forth, “Did you hear that?” I ask, seeking the source of the sound.
“Hear what?” she responds.
“I heard wind chimes,” I say, my eyes peering at the window, it’s closed. “I don’t think it’s supposed to work yet. I guess we should have asked,” I say distracted by the sound. Shrugging it off, hiding the jitters running under my skin, “How was your run?” I ask.
Smiling, her face glistening with sweat she chimes, “Thrilling.” Stretching her arms above her head, “Running is such a great endorphin rush and it’s the best way to clear the mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll take your word for it. If I try running, with Thing One and Thing Two on my chest, I would end up with two black eyes and bruised shoulders from the bouncing.”
Snickering, she grabs her shower caddy and disappears into the bathroom.
The average college dorm has two beds, two desks and all showers are communal. We are some of the lucky college students, or I should say I got lucky that Ronnie chose to be my guardian. Her dad pays for us to be in a suite room so we are fortunate enough to have a bathroom in our room. Meaning no group showers for me. There is nothing more horrifying than having to get naked in front of a bunch of other women.
“I’ll be back in a few, get ready and we’ll Uber across campus and get a good cup of coffee before class. You have your Human Brain class and Advanced Chemistry today, right?” she yells from the bathroom.
“Yes, I do. I get my brain learning and then a good brain scrambling before the day is done.” I love my Human Brain class but Chemistry is one of my few weaknesses. I still have a hundred percent in the class but it challenges me and I love a challenge.
Laughing, she closes the bathroom door, from inside, she shouts, “You love it and you know it.”
She’s right, I do. My class load this semester is one that would make most college grad students cringe, but I’m thrilled with it. Psychology 1201: Your Brain on Drugs, Cellular Neurobiology, Advanced Chemistry, Intro to Neuro Science, and A Clinical Approach to the Human Brain. Each class essential to my undergrad degree in Cognitive Psychology and Brain Science, the study of why we remember some things and forget others. Focusing on Alzheimer’s, speech struggles and memory problems. I want to know why the brain does what it does. Why, when certain areas are affected, we forget our whole lives, everyone we love and every piece of who we are. It’s a subject that greatly impacts my life and it’s my passion.
Ronnie’s return snaps me from my daze. I have sat at my desk doing nothing the entire forty-five minutes she was getting ready but I finished my cup of coffee. I don’t look any different. I don’t feel any different. Maybe the potion takes a little bit, or it’s a multiple dose type potion, only working once it’s had a chance to build in your system.
Grabbing my yoga pants, my warm Winnie the Pooh hoodie and grabbing my new red matching bra and underwear set, I scurry to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I slip on my Chucks and grab a scrunchie to pull my thick hair up in a messy bun. Yes, I still use scrunchies. Don’t judge me. They’re the only thing that will hold this mess of hair up off my neck, so I have a complete collection of 80’s style scrunchie’s that Ronnie makes fun of on a regular basis. I’m positive I was born in the wrong decade or maybe my love for my mom and her love for the 80’s is what fuels my love for retro clothes and songs.
“How about we walk to the coffee shop instead of taking an Uber?” I suggest.
Eye’s as big as saucers, she holds her hand to my forehead, “Are you feeling alright? You want to walk in the cold, all the way across campus?”
Pushing her hand away, “Oh, stop it. Yes, I want to walk,” I huff. I understand her concern; I never want to walk anywhere if I don’t have to. Exercise is a four-letter word in my vocabulary but today I feel like walking.
Looking down at her high-heeled boots, her nose crinkles. “I guess I should change my shoes. We got a dusting of snow last night and I don’t want to fall on my ass,” she says, grabbing her furry, flat soled boots instead, then slipping on her coat, hat and gloves, “Let’s go.”
Slipping on my coat, gloves and slinging my backpack on my shoulder we journey outside the dorm. She was right, the ground is covered in white and the air that was a warm temperature the day before is now a chilly 34 degrees.
The campus is a winter wonderland. The trees coated in snow, buildings with white powdered sitting on their roofs. A blustery cold wind nipping at my exposed skin. Got to love Indiana weather. If you don’t, just wait a minute, it’ll change.
The Quad is fairly empty this morning. Students rushing in a controlled slide, on the slick sidewalks, to get to their destinations. Hurrying to get inside out of the cold. Meaning they have no time to notice me.
I’m out of breath and slightly sweaty by the time we reach The Brew Station, the campus coffee shop. The burn in my lungs feels good, the tightness in my calves is rejuvenating, making me feel I’ve accomplished something. Smiling to myself, the warmth from inside hits my face when we pull open the door. The smell of coffee permeates the air, breathing deep I can almost taste decadent the air.
“You want your usual? White Chocolate, full fat, full whip with chocolate sprinkles and a slice of banana bread?” Ronnie asks.
“No, I want a skinny white chocolate mocha, no whip, no sprinkles, no bread.”
“Are you serious? Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” she asks, again checking me for a fever.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just want to be a little healthier today,” I reply swatting her hand away. I’m unsure of what brought on the urge to cut out some calories but it sounds good so I’m going to go with it.
“Ok, go grab us a table and I’ll get our drinks,” she says, stepping to the barista waiting to take our order.
Scanning my eyes around the small area, bustling with people looking to get warm, I see one empty table for two by the window. Moving quickly to grab it, I set my backpack on the table as skinny red headed woman slips into one of the chairs. “Oops, sorry I was here first,” I say to her with a smile.
“Tough shit, fatty. Find somewhere else to plant your fat ass,” she snarls, her face crinkling in disgust.
Turning to seek help from Ronnie, feeling heat crawl up my neck, I slam right into a steaming cup of coffee. The contents of the cup dumping down the front of my shirt covering Pooh Bear in scalding coffee, burning my skin as it soaks through the soft fleece.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” a deep voice rumbles while a large hand grabs mine pulling me toward the restrooms.
Pulling my sweatshirt away from my skin to stop the burn, “Ouch, that’s hot,” I mumble. I don’t notice who has my hand pulling me, too focused on my burning skin. All of sudden, my sweatshirt is pulled up over my head and a very small something is pushed on, the person trying to squeeze it over my chest. My glasses were skewed when my shirt was removed making the offending person a blurry mess of dark hair. My arms are pinned at my sides from this person still trying to cram me into this, whatever they are trying to cover me with, I manage to move my hand enough to right my glasses. The blurry becoming clear, the person comes into view; Kohl Black is standing in front of me, his tongue curling up over his top lip, a bead a sweat forming on his forehead from him trying to cram me into what I am assuming is his practice jersey.
“Kohl, stop. What are you doing?” I ask, trying to push him away but my arms are constricted by the shirt.
“I didn’t want you burnt, I got your sweatshirt off then I realized I didn’t have anything to cover you with. I took off my practice jersey and I’m trying to get it to cover your chest but it’s not working,” he answers, grunting and pulling on the shirt. “I’m sorry,” tug, “I’m such a klutz,” he rambles.
“It. Doesn’t. Fit. Kohl,” I say each word ending on a pull as he is trying to get this thing past my boobs. “STOP,” I shout, finally getting his attention. “It’s not going to fit. I feel like a sausage inside a casing right now. Grab my sweatshirt, it should be cool now,” I order, holding out my hand for my shirt. “Shit, I don’t have time to go back to the dorm, I’ll have to go to the student union and grab a shirt,” I mumble.
A cold draft hits my skin, my bare skin. Looking down at my bra clad chest, I gasp attempting to cover myself with my hands. I’m standing in the hall, at The Brew Station, in my bra and he’s standing right in front of me. Ripping his jersey off my head sends my glasses flying but I’m able to cover myself with my hoodie. I’m blind without my glasses, I don’t know how I will find them now. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I wonder if any pictures were taken of me as I stood there. Damn it, I was just getting over the last picture that was out there, I think as tears brim in my eyes.
Warm hands gently set my glasses on my face. When he comes into focus, I see his bright smile. “No one saw you. I made sure to keep you blocked with my body. I was trying to save the day by telling off that bitch at your table, but I just made it worse by spilling my coffee on you,” he confesses with red tinting his cheeks. The blush gives him the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, mischievously sexy but adorable. Plus, he has this halo of white surrounding him, must be the sun reflecting off the wall, I think. Glancing outside, there’s no sun, only dark snow clouds, that’s odd.
My face on fire, unable to meet his eyes, I try to move the conversation along so I can get out of here, “Thank you for trying to help, Kohl, but I would like to drink my coffee and I need to get to class soon.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry about the mess,” he apologizes, hanging his head.
Edging around him, rushing into the main part of the coffee shop, I feel guilty at his saddened tone, offering him a smile over my shoulder, “It’s fine, Kohl.” Continuing to the table I had chosen, where Ronnie is sitting, I slide into the chair across from her.
“Where did you go?” she asks.
“Someone spilled coffee on me, I was trying to dry some of it off. How did you get this table? That rude bitch made it clear that it was hers.”
“She’s a sorority pledge, I told her to move her ass. I heard what she said to you. She won’t be joining our sisterhood anytime soon, snarky bitch,” she snaps, pushing my coffee to me.
Checking the time on my phone, I realize I need to go if I’m going to make it to the union before class. “Shoot, I gotta go, Ron.”
Grabbing my coffee and backpack, she asks, “Want me to walk you?”
“No, sit. Enjoy your coffee. I’ll see you after class,” I reply, racing to the door. Hurrying I pushing it open not paying attention to where I’m going, slamming into a wall of the impressive chest and another steaming cup of coffee. Once again dumping its contents down the front of my sweatshirt when the cup crushes against me.
“Damn it,” I shout. The face of the offender is none other than Kohl.
“Jesus. You need to wear a bell,” I huff frustrated while the cold air hits the liquid on my shirt freezing it to my skin.
“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, again.”
“Fine, fine. I’ve gotta go. I have to get this off me before it’s permanently frozen to my skin,” I say, shoving past him.
His long legs eat up the distance I’ve made as he falls into step beside me. “Wait, I brought you a shirt,” he calls holding out a balled up white t-shirt.
“You bought me a shirt at the union?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Um, no. I went to my room and grabbed you one of mine.”
“Kohl, we tried this earlier. You’re tall and skinny. I’m not. Your shirts won’t even fit over one of my boobs. Why do you even care? Shouldn’t you be off with Chase and the team finding a new conquest or bouncing a ball or something?” I ask frustrated, looking at the mess on my shirt.
“This one’s big. I made sure it would fit you,” he says. “Wait, no; that sounded bad. I mean, I think it will fit over your chest,” he corrects himself while red rises to his cheeks and he stares longingly at my chest. Shaking his head, he continues, “I care because I spilled coffee on you. Not just once but twice and you may not know this yet, but I’m one hell of a nice guy,” he informs me smirking, forcing the shirt into my hands.
Arrogant asshole, I don’t have time for this bullshit, if I keep up this conversation I’ll be late for class. Ripping the shirt from his hands. “Fine, I’ll try it. But don’t be offended if it doesn’t fit,” I retort stomping into the union to change.
Once I’m sealed away in the bathroom, cursing his clumsiness under my breath, I toss my sweatshirt off. Shivering when the cold material clears my head. Pushing the white shirt over my head, my heart drops to my feet when I see Kohl’s reflection behind me in the mirror.
“Ack, fuck. What the hell are you doing?” I screech.
“I wanted to make sure you actually tried it on instead of telling me it didn’t fit,” he says with a devious grin.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what the fuck you think you’re doing but this is not ok with me,” I fume, forcing the shirt down over my chest. It’s tight. So tight it rolls up at my waist. But it’ll work. Looking down to the front of the shirt I see it says, “JSU Fighting Berries Team Squad.”
“What shirt is this, Kohl?”
“One of my practice shirts,” he answers. His eyes feasting on the tight material stretched across my chest. “It fits you nicely,” he acknowledges while his eyes peruse my chest.
“Uh, actually, no it doesn’t and my eyes are up here not down there. I’ve got to get to class, so thank you. I’ll wash it and get it back to you later this week but I will warn you it will be stretched out in the chest area,” I explain pulling my coat and gloves back on. Thinking, at least my coat will cover it.
“No, it’s fine, you keep it. I want you to have it,” he offers. “Can I walk you to your class?”
Frustration is making my eye twitch, this man is becoming a pain in my ass, “Why?” I bark.
“Look, I know you have had a rough month but I’m not the enemy here, Tensanne. I’m a nice guy wanting to get to know a nice girl. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while and the coffee gave me a perfect reason.”
Squinting my eyes at him, I relent, “I’m going to be late; I don’t have time to argue. If you want to walk with me there is really nothing I can do to stop you but I need to go.”
* * *
Kohl
I’m such a fucking clumsy idiot. It’s bad enough that I spilled one cup of coffee on her but what are the chances of dumping two down the front her? That has to be some astronomical shit right there.
I’ve been wrangling to control my dick since my eyes met her porcelain skin bounding out the top of that red lace bra. I’m trying to be a gentleman but my thoughts are the definition of carnal. I’ve seen her in the flesh and that photo that went around is nothing compared to the real thing. Smooth white skin, stretched tight to contain her breast. Fuck me, her beauty is boundless. My fingers have been itching to touch her, my tongue battling for a taste.
My shirt is hugging her ribs, rolling up at the waist, giving me a glimpse of her creamy skin. My tongue clicking my teeth dying for a sample, my dick in the permanent upright position.
Would she slap me if I touch her?
Would it be worth it to feel her under my fingers?
Hell, yes it would.
Does she realize that my name is on the back of the shirt? Coach told us only a few people can have them. I smile inside that she’s branded with the word “Black” across her back. I feel like beating my chest and giving a caveman roar. Baby steps. I need to take baby steps with this girl, I think, putting my caveman back in his box.
I need to figure out a way to spend more time with this girl. Think, think, think.
“Are you taking Advanced English Comp this semester?” I ask.
“No, why?”
“English isn’t one of my strong points. If you were taking it, I was going to ask for your help.”
Stopping, her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes hardening, she fumes, “I’m not writing your papers for you, Kohl. Is that why you’re being nice to me, so I’ll do your homework for you?”
Shit, this took a wrong turn fast. Trying to make a little small talk and I dig myself into a bigger hole. I’m going to need a shovel to get out of this mess.
“No, I want someone to be a proofreader, someone to make sure my work isn’t shit,” I reply, nudging her shoulder, “How about Dr. P’s class, have you started on your bully assignment yet?” I ask, hoping to put the pin back in the grenade I just launched.
Raising one eyebrow, she eyes me from behind her thick lenses, “No, I’m working on it tonight after study group.”
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she hesitates. My eyes zero in on her mouth, I want to bite it. Holding her chin, using my thumb I softly pull her lip from her teeth. Fighting the urge to soothe the teeth marks she left behind with my tongue. She gasps blushing redder than the cold has already turned her cheeks, recoiling from my touch.
“I-I guess I can look at your English papers when you get them done. You can email them to me,” she offers wringing her gloved hands together.
“I work better one on one. We could set a time to meet. In the library maybe? What study group do you have?” I have her where I want her, now I must reel in my catch.
“One for my human brain class. It’s my friend Wren and me, cause no one else shows up. Do you know Wren? Wren Morris, the other kid on campus that’s my age?”
Anger inches up my spine. A sore spot blooming in my heart. Is that jealousy? Am I jealous that this guy gets to study with her, that he’s her age? I’ve seen Wren, he’s in my English class. Skinny, scrawny guy. Maybe five foot seven inches, if even that. Big ears, big nose, his head shaped like an egg with dirty blonde floppy hair. Nah, I can’t be jealous of him; must be something I ate.
“Yeah, I have English with Wren,” I grumble.
“Do you want to get together after my group?” she offers.
“What time?”
“Eleven p.m.”
“I can’t, I work out every night at eleven,” I say.
Damn it, now what? Do I give up my work out? I’m pondering when an idea blooms in my head, “Hey, why don’t you come join me? Keep me company while I work out?” I suggest.
Her mouth in a grim line, she scowls at me, “Do I look like I work out?”
“I don’t mean for you to work out. Just sit there and talk to me. The gym’s always empty that late and I could use someone to push me. We could talk about our classes?” I offer hopefully tempting her with her love of school.
Looking up to the wet, salt covered steps of the Social Sciences building, I realize, I’m out of time. I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes, she’s thinking deeply about my offer. This could be my way in. Come on, Ten; you know you want to, I think.