Unfathomable

CHAPTER TWO: MAKING OUT WITH THE PRESIDENT, 09/13/2019

I have wandered all the way across campus only to have my floormates ditch me in approximately two minutes. But if I've made it all the way over here, I might as well stay. And if I'm staying, I might as well enjoy it.

The music is a little too quiet. Or maybe the room is a little too crowded. But it's energized and frantic and it's trying to cram a solid amount of fun in this tiny little dorm room in the tiny little week before my first round of college midterms, and by God, am I ambitious enough to give it a shot. I fill a red solo cup halfway with some clear liquid and fill it the rest of the way with Sprite, in hopes that the lemon-lime flavor will choke out the taste of alcohol- the scent of which I can smell as soon as I uncap the bottle.

I take a tentative sip. It's not bad. But it's not great either. But it's in my hand now, and it's my last weekend of fun before midterms, so I'm going to drink it. My thought process is already a little scrambled. Not from the alcohol, but rather from the mild tone of panic that whispers through my system at being in a strange room full of strangers on the wrong side of campus sans floormates. I realize it is probably a bad idea to get intoxicated in this situation, so if I plan on getting a refill, I better make a friend real quick.

I don't have a good vantage point, and it takes time to identify someone as out of place as I am. The room is dusky, swathed in cheap rave lights and suffocated with erratic bodies "dancing" to some song about doing shots that I've never heard before. I push my way through the crowd, hoping to insert myself into a small group. I try to bounce along to the beat, fake dancing with the rest of them, hoping that I don't stick out as much as I feel like I do.

There's a spilled drink on the floor. My shoe makes a scarcely audible squeak, buried by the speakers and small talk. If there was room to fall, I would have fallen. Unsteady and somewhat embarrassed, sure that I have drizzled the remainder of my drink on the person in front of me, I straighten myself out.

And it all unwinds like fate. Face flushed, hoping that no one has seen me slip, my eyes flutter across the crowd. Given that the dorm room is most likely exceeding maximum occupancy, the probability of no one catching a glimpse of the ordeal is not even an integral percent.

My gaze meets someone else's, and for some reason, neither of us break the eye contact. Her eyebrows are raised- more teasing than judgmental. She raises her cup in a toast, tosses her head back, black hair shivering in response. Her lips are red and she looks too cool and put together to be attending this get together. She winks at me. I make my way over to her. She pulls away from her friends.

I think you can't get any more cliche than this- meeting someone at a party. Singling her out from everybody else. There's something zinging inside me, but I can't tell how long this feeling will last. There's an air to her, a sort of composition that exudes from every pore of her body, and God, do I crave it.

"Hey," she calls, her voice vibrant over the lyrics. "I'm Anna. What's your name?"

"August." I tell her, trying to mimic her poise. I think I succeed, because she leans in closer and tucks hair behind her ear.

"What's that?" she asks.

"August," I repeat. "Like the month."

She nods. This wicked grin spreads across her red lips. "Awesome name. It's very... regal."

I shrug. "It's short for Augusta, but don't call me that."

"The capital of Maine."

I nod in response, because I'm not sure exactly what to say next. I should say something. I want to say something, because the air feels vaguely electric. Fate continues to unravel.

"Where are you from?" Anna asks me.

"Not Maine."

She laughs. I can't tell if I'm actually funny or if she wants me to think that I am. Either way, I'll take it.

"What are you studying?" The question has become entrenched in my mind. Weeks of following the same old script becomes habit. The classic college introduction. Where would I be without you, freshman orientation?

She rolls her eyes, but plays along. "Poli-sci." Anna reads my expression, and seems satisfied with whatever she finds there. "You don't seem surprised," she tells me.

"Should I be?"

"Some people are. They see me, and I don't know what they're thinking..." she pauses. "But I have a guess. They think I'm physics or pre-med or some other stereotypical bulllshit that my parents wanted me to go into." She's ablaze. I'm breathless.

"I can't see you doing that stuff. There's too much fire in you."

"Yeah?" She takes a step closer to me. I am struck by that infamous Shakespeare line. She's little, but fierce. Right now, I am a little fierce. I remember the cup in my hand.

"Mind sharing some of that fire?"

Anna chews her lip, fighting back a smirk, but I see a chink in her armor. Just a quiver of nervousness. A sliver of humanity. And somehow it makes her even more beautiful. "Can a girl from Maine handle the heat?"

"Not from Maine."

"I've had..." she pauses, "four drinks." She looks me right in the eye. This sentence is said with a fake slur.

The lie stings, so I down the remainder of my cup, ignoring the protest of my scorching throat. "Me too." Anna is glad I understand, and I do, but I also don't. She pretends to pitch into me, but I cut the staging, press those red lips to my pale ones. Sharing the fire. It's a slow burn.

Her lips are soft. They dance against mine. I remember why I like kissing girls. The energy. The clarity. I am awake. Clear-headed. Finally feeling traces of heat from the alcohol, but it's mostly the moment that makes me warm. How long do we stay in the flames? My hands are on her little waist, in her slightly tangled hair. We break away at the same time. Synchronous. Fate.

Anna takes me by the hand, pretends to stumble on her way out of the room. She drags me all the way down to the bathroom, where she promptly locks the door. Leaning over the sink, she checks her reflection. Her face is red, and she grabs a paper towel to rub away the lipstick that remained intact. The rest of her lipstick is on me. I scrub a little more gently.

I can feel myself bobble on the high. It all feels like a rejection. Anna is ridding herself of me.

I am quiet. Anna takes my hand again. Twirls into me, gracefully this time, plants a soft one on my lips. There's the fire again.

"That was nice." She whispers. "I... I've never kissed a girl before."

I smile and pretend it wasn't obvious. Again, she appreciates the lie. "You have, haven't you?"

"Not for a while." I play with my hair, which is slightly sticky with some sort of mixer. I remember her lips on mine. "Would you kiss me again?"

There's a lot of quiet now. I answer my question for her. "It's college. People hook up. I get it." I move to leave, unsure of how I really feel. Because it is just a hook-up. I knew this going in, and didn't really want it to evolve into anything more. But I'd like to think I have a bit more grace than to catch fire and burn through girls. All femme. No fatale.

"Might not kiss you again," Anna speaks up. Her voice starts delicate like I am a glass menagerie, but quickly her tone catches a crescendo. Her expression turns silver in the mirror. "Might want to talk to you more, though. Might kiss more girls in the future. Or you." She turns to me with the fire back in her eyes. Anna searches my face. Her gaze lingers on my lips.

And then, I am in her dorm room watching a superhero movie and stuffing my face with popcorn until two in the morning. She stains my lips with a few more kisses. Fate waves its triumphant little banner.

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i'm sensing potential problems arising in following chapters but oh well. hope you're enjoying thus far & thanks to the few dedicated souls who read/ commented on the last chapter :)