Chapter 8: Truth or Dare
Fall rolled around again, and with it, the start of my senior year—my last semester of coursework with several of the most challenging classes I’d taken in my entire college career. As for the MCAT, I’d spent a good two months re-evaluating what had gone wrong and come up with a plan of attack.
Clearly, there was a whole strategy behind taking the test. I had to learn that strategy. And quick.
Because the longer I delayed retaking it, the more it would delay my med school applications. I risked losing an entire year between finishing college and moving on to medical school.
I sucked it up and joined a study group. So not my thing, and yet annoyingly necessary.
“Maybe we should start with some introductions?” the perky blonde started, shifting on her chair in one of the reserved study rooms in the Chapman University Leatherby Libraries. “I’m Alicia Smiley, majoring in Organic Chem. No jokes about the name, please and thank you. I do smile a lot.” She punctuated that statement with perfect matching dimples on each cheek.
The small group laughed at her little joke. We’d used a university forum to match up, based on the approximate date we’d be taking the MCAT test. Most of them were a year behind me in school, and I planned on keeping mum about my previous failure.
Next to introduce himself was a guy with straggly dark hair plastered to his forehead and an ugly sweater. He quietly introduced himself as Clark. I mentally reframed him as wearing glasses a la Clark Kent. The next image came to my mind was of him ripping off that atrocious sweater to reveal a blue body suit with a giant ‘S’ on his chest. I had to bite my lip to stifle the giggles.
A few others introduced themselves. Then it was my turn. “I’m Mia Strong. Bio major. And, um, yeah, I just want to do really well on this test.” That rock in my stomach twisted again, like it did every time I contemplated my failure and what it might mean if I didn’t get off my ass and pass this damn test.
Lastly, a really young-looking guy with curly blond hair and boy-next-door good looks leaned forward. “I’m Jon. Kinesiology major. I’m a recent transfer from Penn—as in the Ivy League University of Pennsylvania, not Penn State. And I will cut a person who confuses the two. JK of course.”
Nervous laughter all around. Anyone from the west coast had little idea what the difference was between those two schools—besides the fact that one was Ivy League and the other had a famous football team. Nor did we care. Harvard or Stanford, we understood. The Penns? Not so much.
I laughed along with the rest of the group, and when Jon’s gaze landed on me, a cocky smile appeared. I smiled back and something in his eyes changed, intensifying. Like headlights being switched onto high beam, I drew back.
Uh oh. I’d seen that look before, when I’d bothered to look back long enough to notice.
I immediately averted my gaze and made a point to ignore Jon the rest of the study session. Before leaving, we passed around a sheet, sharing phone numbers and email addresses, then set up another meeting. Miss Smiley McDimples—as I was now mentally calling her—would send us an agenda based on the specs of the test within the next few days, and we’d come back to the group, prepared to pair off and quiz each other.
I could do this. I got this. I chanted these phrases to myself as I rushed out of the room the minute we were done. As a protective measure, I pressed my cell phone to my ear, pretending to talk on it lest anyone think they could approach me afterward.
I’d learned a lot of tricks like that, and they worked really well. Some would say too well.
“When are you going to start dating, anyway?” Heath had asked me recently.
“The 12th of Never in the year of our Lord, hypothetically speaking.”
Heath sighed and rolled his eyes. “Stubborn girl.”
“Determined girl.” I quirked a brow, folding my arms across my chest. “My life is not going to depend on the whims of some man.”
Heath grinned. “Believe me, the whims of some man can be very pleasurable… when you find the right man.”
“And have you found him, Heath?” When the smile dropped abruptly from his face, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Oh shit. I was always saying the wrong thing lately. “I mean, as long as he makes you happy, right?”
After an awkward pause, the subject was changed and I made a mental note to handle that topic much more smoothly in the future. Although prickly responses like that served me well because they taught Heath to avoid the subject from then on. And he was a quick learner, fortunately.
Mom, well, she was another story. But usually she didn’t push it. She just looked at me with sad eyes, and I knew she was thinking about what had happened to me in high school. Whenever she brought up the subject, however, I managed to change it. That was that.
***
As this was my last year at the university, the pressure was piling on. My days consisted of classes, homework for aforementioned classes, extra work for the MCAT study group, research at the lab for—and sometimes with—my advising professor. Hours at the hospital, though they were reduced again, now that summer was over. And, when I could fit them in, blogging and gaming. Sleeping and eating were sandwiched somewhere in between. Rinse and repeat.
Sadly, our gaming group only got together one night a week, but I managed a few more hours here and there when I could. And when I did, I frequently ran into FallenOne. I often wondered if that was by accident or by design.
But why question a good thing, right?
Of course, Kat’s suspicions swirled around in my mind as well. Did FallenOne like me?
I had to admit…I kind of liked him.
*FallenOne tells you, I’ve been thinking about that secret quest thingy you were talking about a few weeks ago. It’s a cool idea.
*You tell FallenOne, They could be already working on something like that. I wouldn’t be surprised.
Him: Neither would I.
Me: Yeah, when these geeky dudes aren’t totally obsessing about women’s bodies, they are pretty smart.
Him: So you think all us geeky types just obsess over women?
Me: Am I wrong?
Him: How is that different than any other guy, though?
Me: Good point. Probably not different. Unless you’re Heath.
***
It only took two more study sessions for Jon to ask me out. It was simply for coffee afterward and “just to get some extra study time in.” Also, it had been after we’d been randomly—or so I’d hoped—paired up during the second session to quiz each other, and he’d deliberately sat next to me in the third.
I hated having to shoot someone down. Especially someone as nice as Jon. And deep down, I asked myself, would it really be that unpleasant if I did go out to coffee with him?
But coffee would lead to drinks. And drinks might lead to going out to a club or dancing or whatever normal people my age did. And then that might lead to “swing by my place afterward.” And then…and then. That was the part that always brought me to a halt.
“I’m sorry. I’m super busy. Meeting a friend in an hour.”
“Okay...” He drew that out, expecting me, perhaps, to fill in the knowledge gap. When I wasn’t forthcoming, he changed tactics. “Oh. I guess I should have asked if you had a boyfriend.”
“I don’t…” His expression visibly brightened. Maybe I should have lied instead? “But, I’m very serious about my studies. I’m on a scholarship, which requires perfect grades. I don’t do much of anything, including dating.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh. Are you religious?” It was a fair question. Chapman University was a church-related school, after all, and there were quite a few people who attended it based on that affiliation. But not me. I attended based on the nice, fat, full-ride scholarship they’d offered me when I finished high school.
Again, I could have lied about that, but chose not to. “Not particularly, no. It’s just a personal choice.”
Jon blinked, confused, and I gathered my things, ready to shake him off. He followed as I rushed out the door of the library as if I had places to go, things to do, people to see. I did have a lot to do that day—okay, maybe not a lot, but there was a project to finish and laundry to squeeze in there somewhere.
I guess ‘personal choice’ was not an acceptable excuse, because Jon made a good-natured remark about “wearing me down.” I, just as good-naturedly, joked that there were several eligible members of our group—Smiley McDimples, for one—who had seemed interested in him.
Jon was not dissuaded, if the determined look in his eyes was any indication.
Nevertheless, I was able to deter him and continue about my day. Unfortunately, my evening would, in a sense, prove to be more of the same.
While gaming with my friends, I took breaks to run down and change clothes from the washer to the dryer. Proof I wasn’t lying!
Tonight, it was FallenOne’s turn, so we worked on his epic weapon quest, the Staff of Mighty Power. For one of the components, we needed a very special feather from a very rare creature. The Surperfluous Flamingo spawned in the Lost Lagoon. But we had to hack through hordes of hostile hippos, rabid gators, and aggro ostriches by the thousands, killing placeholders over and over again in order to get it to spawn. It took hours.
Long, boring hours. To the point where we were starting to break out the caffeinated drinks and get a little punchy, making jokes and laughing at every little thing.
Fallen had long since offered to give up, but we wouldn’t allow it. We were the stubbornest bunch of ornery mofos on the server, and we weren’t going to give in.
We were going to snatch that rare feather off that fucking flamingo if it was the last thing we did!
It was a hot night in late September, the worst month for heat in Southern California. My studio apartment—as fortuitous a find as it was—lacked air conditioning, and thus I had to rely on box fans in the windows for some relief. It did very little beyond blowing hot air all over me.
Of course, open windows meant I had a direct line to the screeching and howling of my neighbors, who enjoyed loud, raucous sex at any temperature. Warm, cold, hot, dry. Rain or shine. Those two screwed like dogs in perpetual heat.
“God dammit. The neighbors are going at it again,” I finally said after the fourth “Oh God!” in a row.
Kat sighed heavily. “I wish I was having sex right now. I’m jealous.”
“Who doesn’t?” replied Heath.
“That doesn’t mean I’d rather hear my neighbors going on and on about it. Damn. Someone needs to introduce them to online gaming or something.”
“Yeah, because camping a rare spawn is so much more fun than orgasms,” replied Heath.
“Maybe we should do something to pass the time while we do this shitty camp. Obviously not as fun as what Mia’s neighbors are doing…but how about a game? Truth or dare, anyone?” asked Persephone.
“What the hell are you going to dare us to do? Streak through the swamp with no armor on? Can I get a ‘hell no’?” Heath replied.
“Ah, c’mon,” Kat whined. “I’ll go first. What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex? Truth, you have to answer. Dare, you have to fight the next mob solo with no weapon while we all stand back and laugh at you.”
“That’s an easy one,” Heath replied. “Under the bleachers at my high school during a basketball game.”
“What?” I gasped. “Heath? Not even.”
He laughed. “It is, indeed, true.”
I scoffed. “With who?”
“Ah, ah, ah! No cheating,” Kat admonished. “It’s not your turn to ask. Fallen, how do you choose? Answer the question, or do you drop your nunchakus and solo the mob with your fists?”
As usual, Fallen responded via text only. But since he typed so fast, it was easy for him to keep up with us.
Oh, hell. Why not? Truth. Mine is from high school, too. I worked at my uncle’s office my junior year and got propositioned by this chick who also worked there. We did it on the conference table after-hours when no one else was around.
“Oh dayum!” Heath roared, laughing. “Yours is better than mine.”
Hell no, there wasn’t a crowd around for mine! Fallen shot back.
“No, but I bet that made the next conference meeting…interesting. Especially with your uncle sitting there.”
Nope, I just moved boxes around and took care of mail at that job. I never had to sit at in at conference meetings. *She had to, though, so I assume it was awkward for her LOL.
“Huh. Well, I’m sure there was a lot of poking and prodding during those special conference meetings,” Kat said.
Just that one time there, anyway. We got more conventional later on.
Once our teasing died down, Katya spoke again. “Okay, Mia. Spill… or are you soloing with no magic?”
“No magic?! Wait!” I panicked, suddenly having to rearrange my plan, which had been to choose “dare” and burn the mob down with my biggest one-thumper of a nuke spell. I’d been saving it, because the refresh time on the spell made it so I could only cast it once every twenty minutes. “You said no weapon. I won’t use my wand.”
“Magic is your weapon. So given these mobs spawning, I’m going to say that squishy little you will last one, maybe two hits before you go down.”
“Just spill the goods, Mia,” Heath said.
*Fragged tells you, It’s not like you really have a lot to tell, anyway, right?
*You tell Fragged, Thanks for your support, champ. I’ll remember this.
I also remembered that I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. “Fine, then. Truth. I don’t have a weird place.”
“So you’ve only ever done it in a bed?” Kat asked, disbelief in her voice.
“I’ve never done it at all,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest, though I knew they couldn’t see me.
FallenOne commented, Wait, what?
“No way,” Kat said. “I don’t believe you.”
“Heath can verify. I don’t date. I don’t hook up...”
“Are you religious?” Kat asked. Wow…second time today that question had been asked.
“Nope. Just haven’t had the desire.” That wasn’t exactly true. I’d just had a bad experience...one I had no desire to talk about. So, I let that stand.
“I can verify,” Heath interjected. “She’s a virgin...as far as I know. I mean, we’ve been friends since we were thirteen and all. On the other hand, she had no idea about my escapade at the basketball game—which I think she even attended. So take my verification for what it’s worth. Though I stand as witness to the fact that she doesn’t date.”
And yet you make fun of all the nerdy game designers who you say can’t get any? Fallen asked.
“There’s a difference between wanting it and not getting it, and not wanting it in the first place. But mostly, that’s all joking on my part. It’s just me being grouchy about all the female skin they think it’s necessary to show.”
Kat asked, “Are you a prude, Mia? Or are you just saving yourself for marriage?”
I sat back with a sigh. Those labels again. Why did there always have to be labels for a woman’s sexual status? Prude. Tease. Slut. They reflected an entire spectrum that described levels of access to a female’s body by any given man.
“’Prude’ is a rude word to use. And I don’t plan on getting married, so that eliminates my saving myself for something that will never happen. But why try to label me based on my sexual status? Why do there always have to be labels instead of respecting personal choices?”
There was a pause, and I could tell that they were all thinking about what I’d said. Finally, Kat cleared her throat. “Yeah, you’re right. ‘Prude’ is as bad as ‘slut.’ I didn’t mean it in a mean way, and I’m sorry. Maybe you can reclaim it and make it yours. Like…I know I’m a slut and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“Maybe, but prude has such a negative connotation. Like if you don’t have sex, you must not like it. How do I know if I like it or not? I’ve never had it!”
Good point, agreed FallenOne.
“So maybe I’ll pick a new label for myself. I’m ‘cheerfully celibate.’”
“There’s a lot to be said for choosing not to get wrapped up in all the baggage that sex can bring,” Kat said, her voice much more serious now. “I was way too young when I started.”
“Me, too,” Heath concurred.
I shook my head. “Seriously, when was all this happening? I had no idea.”
Heath’s dry laugh sounded in my headset. “When you’re a gay teen, you get to be an expert at keeping secrets—at least until you come out of the closet. Then you’re ready to trumpet it to the world!”
“And march naked in gay pride parades?” asked Kat.
Heath laughed. “Or just sit by the sidelines and thoroughly enjoy them!”
“Well, now you all know my sordid secret,” I said.
Nothing sordid or shameful about it. Actually, it’s pretty awesome. Good for you, Mia, FallenOne pitched in.
I smiled and then breathed a sigh of relief. I no longer regretted my candor. Not a single “you don’t know what you’re missing,” like I’d expected. Well…good.
So I was still a virgin… so what? Maybe I’d die an old lady virgin, or maybe I’d try it out once to see what all the fuss was about. But whatever I decided, the decision was mine.