Instead of getting better, our relationship seemed to have fallen completely apart. Especially when the recruitment for pledges started and Rachel fell in with that sorority. I wasn’t much of a joiner. In fact, I’d basically dropped out of every club I joined by not going to their meetings. Rachel went to the ones that she knew would get her noticed by the sorority sisters and had made a point of being seen. When pledge-week started, well, she was already on their list, wasn’t she?
I, on the other hand, studied, worked, went out to eat with Becky once a week, and talked to my sexy texter. I still wasn’t sure it was even him. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes, I’d swear there was more than one person texting me.
The tone would change, the words used would be different. Sometimes the text would be more somber, and he’d use sensual words, romantic words to talk to me. Then, at other times, he’d tell me how he wanted to fuck me so much he couldn’t stand it, that he wanted to be in my pussy. And other times? Well, he was interested, but it just wasn’t the same as at other times. He wanted to know about me, who I was, what I liked, what I did with my day.
I was kind of confused by it all. I was always me when we texted, I never changed, but no matter how he wanted to talk to me, I was happy to talk back. Even if he was complicated.
And now he wanted to meet. He’d asked me enough times, and I’d always found some excuse. I had to work, but what I really wanted to write was…I’m not sure you’ll like my thick thighs. I had to study for a test when I really couldn’t be sure if he would like how soft my stomach was. I knew he’d like my breasts; they were the kind that men often paid attention to, but the rest of me?
I was afraid he had a girl like Rachel in his mind when he thought about me, not a woman that looked like me.
I wasn’t too bad. I’d lost some weight in the last month, all the walking and less eating, I had to, especially with NY prices. I had to watch my pennies. Or maybe it was stress. Either way, my pants were loose on me now, and my bras weren’t so tight. My hair looked glossier here too, the conditioner Becky had given me made it so silky smooth that it fell down my back like a golden wave now, even when I let it air dry.
I’d also taken to wearing makeup more often. Not a lot, just some foundation, eyeliner, and a little more shadow. I had a mini collection in the boxes that my family sent me because the only makeup I’d ever worn was what Mom had on her dresser. Even then she would always apply i
t. I didn’t know how to apply it all until I’d watched some videos online to find out how to get the look I wanted and had practiced until I’d perfected it. So, it wasn’t all bad, I just felt… alone. Even when I was at work, when I was surrounded by students and faculty, I still felt like the only person in the crowd that didn’t have someone to talk to.
At least in the evenings and that one English class, I had Becky to talk to. Not on the phone, or over a text messaging service, but face to face. She made me laugh, think about things with the way she talked about current events, and often left me with a smile on my face.
Then she’d have to get back to her project, and I’d be alone until he came along. Usually, around eight or nine pm, he’d send me a message, and my fingers would be busy for the rest of the night. Neither of us had suggested calling each other yet. I was too afraid to and he hadn’t said anything. I guess we both just liked to text better.
But last night, he’d gone straight from chatting to ‘let’s meet, for real this time, no more excuses.’ That had been what his text had said. I’d stared at it for ages. My reply had been simple.
Okay.
And then I’d panicked and spent the rest of the night and today in a panic. What would I wear? How would I know it was him? Would he like me? Would he see me and run away? Would he talk to me and then laugh in my face? Or would he talk and then never text me again? So many possibilities and I only saw the negatives.
Becky would change that; she would remind me that not everybody was cruel. She was one example of that. She paid every time we met here at the diner, even when I protested. She had a little extra money, she said, I should let her pay because it made her happy to do it. I hated to admit it, but she saved me a lot of embarrassment by paying. I wouldn’t have been able to go out this much, otherwise.
I’d kind of told her about my texter, and how we talked every night and sometimes during the day and even in the morning, but not what we talked about. She’d wanted to know about him, if I planned to meet him, was it love? Her artist’s mind expanded the whole thing into a love story and made it sound so much more romantic than a man would think it was.
“It’s like the way people used to have pen-pals isn’t it? It’s just a faster way to write to each other. I think it’s sweet,” she’d told me. Yeah, that made me feel a lot better. It wasn’t so weird after all when she explained it like that for me.
I finally saw her but became distracted when one very gorgeous man walked by her. He glanced at me, smiled a little, and then kept on in the direction he was headed. He was so beautiful, that I kept right on staring. He had light brown hair, cut short on the sides, but a little long on top, just enough to get a grip on, I thought with a very dirty grin.
Becky rushed in, her delighted eyes on my stunned face. He was just that gorgeous.
“Oh, don’t bother paying attention to that one. He’s out for one thing and one thing only. If you want to have a fun night with no strings attached, he’s your guy, but otherwise, nope. Don’t go near him. He is not the dating kind.”
“What a shame.” I kind of whispered as he headed into the distance. I was just in the right position to watch him as he walked away. “He has such a lovely ass.”
“He has lovely everything from what I’ve heard,” Becky whispered with a wink. “But not your type, I think.”
“Hm. Too bad.” I put my things under the table and leaned forward. “Tell me, how is your project going?”
We chatted about the painting she was working on for a few minutes, and then the waiter with the biggest crush on a woman I’d ever seen came to take our orders. Apparently, he gave her his employee discount once a day, and she’d promised that one day when she wasn’t so busy, she’d go out with him. And it wasn’t a lie. He was a grad student over at the university, and he worked here to have some money to eat on.
Another poor medical student, but he was nice, and he made her smile, so I hoped he went far. Especially during those times when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Some days, she’d come in here full of artistic exuberance, and his logical on-his-way-to-a-doctor’s mind would calm her down. It was something to see, really. The perfect match, if I’d ever seen one.
“So, what’s your news?” she asked me finally, a milkshake in front of her. She had one every time she came in here, which was still three times a day and gained no weight. I hated her body for not being mine, sometimes.
“I have agreed to meet my friend. Kind of.”
“Oh? Kind of? What does that mean?”