I frowned. “How can you guarantee that?”
“Because I’m going to give you the one thing you’ve been missing all this time.”
“And what is that?” I asked, intrigued.
“Confidence,” Missy replied firmly.
I raised my eyebrows. “Confidence?”
“Precisely.”
“Umm… I’m not sure I understand. How exactly can you give me that?” I asked. “Have you been mixing potions in your free time?”
She wagged her eyebrows at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Come on,” I insisted. “Tell me.”
“I’m going to transform you,” she admitted.
“You mean, you’re going to give me a makeover?” I asked, feeling a little nervous already. I didn’t like to venture too far from the clothes I was accustomed to wearing. My wardrobe consisted of comfortable jeans and t-shirts that were a couple of sizes too big.
“Do you have contacts?” Missy asked, answering my question indirectly.
“No,” I said, a little too quickly.
“Liar.”
“I like wearing my glasses.”
“You like wearing your hair in a ponytail, too,” she pointed out.
“What’s wrong with my ponytail?” I asked defensively.
She laughed. “After I’m through with you, every guy in that bar is going to want to fuck you.”
I felt a little spasm of what could have been fear or excitement. More likely, it was a combination of both. “That’s not what I want,” I was quick to say.
“You want to be a virgin for the rest of your life?”
“No, of course not,” I said. “I want to have sex, but… I want it to mean something. I don’t just want to sleep with any idiot frat boy who comes my way.”
Missy raised her eyebrows.
“I…uh…didn’t mean…”
She smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know what you mean. And you’re right; your first time should be special. But I just want to point out, it can still be special, even if you never see the guy after that night.”
I wanted to believe her, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to agree. How could sex be special if the guy disappeared right after the fact? I wondered. Maybe it was fine if sex was all you wanted, but I knew I wouldn’t be content with an empty bed and the memory of the guy who shared it with me.
I wanted to know his name. I wanted to know him. I wanted him to want to know me. I wanted it to be about more than just the moment. I wanted it to mean more than just the physical.
It was a romantic notion, and I wondered if it was too old-fashioned to be realistic. I hoped I wasn’t just dreaming of a fairytale that no longer existed.
Chapter Two
Chance
My office was a small, cramped space with just enough room for my desk and a small shelf of books and files. Still, I was pleased. It felt somehow like an initiation. I had taught classes before, but it was always as the understudy to a tenured professor.