Heavy in Your Arms

frat party

heads up-- some rated R business is going to go down and ya girl is not trying to get flagged

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"I know you're faking, Ava. Let's get a move on, we want to be appropriately later, not obnoxiously late," my roommate Jesse dictates as she pulls the blankets off of my bed and tries to drag me from the top bunk. I was pretending to be asleep, hoping she would leave me behind.

"Jesse, i just want to sleep. I don't feel like going to a party tonight." I sound like I'm whining, but it's the truth- I have finals next week and I've been studying my ass off, and I really want to keep things low key this weekend.

"You never feel like going to a party, which is why I'm your only friend in this entire university," she pouts.

"Not true! I'm friends with Angela!" I protest. Jesse is pulling my t-shirt over my head an replacing it with a semi-cropped tank top.

"Angela doesn't count; she is the only other person on this campus who is more socially awkward than you." She spins me around and nods approvingly at my jeans, but frowns at my Chuck's. We look like a scene from a crappy sitcom about mismatched roommates-facing off with Jesse's hands on her hips and my arms crossed in defiance. After a brief stare-down, she realizes she not going to win this one and throws her hands up in defeat.

"Fine, I concede the terrible shoes. But you're wearing your hair down." With a sigh, I release my ponytail and Jesse fluffs up my hair, spritzing it with some kinds of shiny stuff. She hands me a tinted lip balm, the product of last week's drugstore standoff. She wanted me to but some of those sticky lip glosses that taste like artificial strawberries, and I wanted to buy nothing. This is a safe compromise, it doesn't feel gross and it tastes like vanilla.

I suppose being roommates with someone who is so different from myself could lead to disaster, but i am really grateful for Jesse. I probably would hole up in the library for weeks at a time if she didn't occasionally drag me the dining hall or the movies. I'd seen a little bit less of her this semester since she'd started dating Jordan, but she still makes time for me.

She hooks her arm through mine and we look in the long mirror attached to the back of the door. She grins, obviously pleased with her handiwork, and we're off. Jesse is a few inches shorter than me; she's tiny and very graceful. I'm clumsy and a little awkward, especially around the opposite sex. I can hold my own in a conversation about literature or current events, but I have no confidence when it comes to guys.

-

I can remember starting to flirt a little bit with boys- but that was before I started dating Carson Peters. In my senior year of high school, he was the first guy to really ask me out. He was smart and beautiful, but... cold. When we first started dating, he would kiss me all the time. In the hallway between classes, at the diner after school, at my kitchen table when we did our homework. I was in heaven. Carson was polite, kind, and shy, like me. I was grateful to have a boyfriend without all the pressure to have sex right away.

Eventually, my hormones started to command more attention. Carson would kiss me until I was breathless and panting, and then he'd take off. He had no problem sweeping me into his arms and kissing me passionately in front of his older brother, Zeke, but kept things chaste when we were alone in his bedroom. I got more and more frustrated as time went on.

The summer after we graduated, we were faced with endless alone time. He was going to Dartmouth in the fall, and I was going to UW in Seattle. I knew we would break up then, even though we didn't talk about it. Despite the impending separation, I wanted to have sex with Carson before we left for school. I trusted him; I knew he was sweet, safe and clean. I heard stories about girls losing their virginity at parties, not really knowing the person, and I didn't want my first to be like that. He agreed that we would try to have sex. He even seemed eager when we talked about it.