College Life: Freshman Year

8

Lauren's POV

I love these moments in bed with Normani when neither of us are quite awake yet. Like every morning, I cuddle up to my girlfriend and place delicate kisses on her shoulder. Her skin is so soft and she smells so sweet. I can't believe this girl is mine. I gently caress her thighs and start to work my way up.

"Lauren, what the hell are you doing?" I am rudely awaken by her scream.

"Zendaya?" Oh shit. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were Normani."

"Well, obviously," she starts laughing. "It's okay freshman, really."

"Where am I?"

"You're in my apartment, Laur. You've been here many times before."

"Oh…what happened last night?"

"It's probably best that I don't tell you. After we played Truth or Dare, you got pretty crazy." Now it's time to worry.

"Crazy like how? Crazy like streaking?"

"Sweetie, you wish."

I'm starting to get annoyed. "Just tell me, Zendaya."

"Okay, take the covers off of you and look just above the waistband of your undies." When I see what Zendaya is referring to, I scream louder than I ever have before.

"Holy fuck! Zendaya, please tell me this is Sharpie!" No matter how much I rub it, Normani's name won't come off of me.

"Lauren, don't do that! You'll make yourself bleed."

"My life is over. I can't have a tattoo! I don't think you understand. My mom will kill me! Plus, the tattoo is of Normani's name. That's just asking for a slow, painful death. Zendaya, I'm going home for spring break, which means I only have one month to live."

"Lauren, it's not like it's on your arm or something. You can hide it."

"How did this happen?"

"I honestly don't know. I just remember we were on Hollywood Boulevard."

"Hollywood Boulevard? How the hell did we get there?"

"None of us remember. We were all pretty trashed. I didn't even know you had gotten that tattoo until we got back here."

I stare at the tattoo some more. It's not so bad, I guess. At least the font is pretty and its only four letters.. Plus, it's only three inches in length. Maybe no one will notice.

"Look on the bright side," Zendaya tells me. "It's Valentine's Day and you got your girlfriend's name tattooed on you. How romantic is that?"

She has a point. "I guess it shows how committed I am to her. After all, this thing is going to be on me for the rest of my life."

"That's the spirit, Laur." Zendaya playfully punches me in the arm.

"Oh, God. I am so dead next time I go home." An idea suddenly comes to me. It may not be a rational idea, but it's still an idea. "Zendaya, grab a knife."

"Why?"

"You're going to slice this tattoo off of me."

"Lauren?"

"I'm serious. This is Los Angeles, not my small Colorado town. These things happen. We can say I got mugged. It's believable, right?"

"You think it's believable that your mugger happened to slice you in a small rectangular shape?" Zendaya says sarcastically.

"Okay, you've got a point. Maybe I can get laser tattoo removal. How much is that?"

"Three thousand dollars."

"Three thousand dollars? Three thousand dollars? Hell, I'd rather you do the slicing. At least that's free and I can get really drunk beforehand so it doesn't hurt as much."

To my disadvantage, my brother walks in amid my hysterics. "Yo, Rebel Kid, I'm going to see Choie right now. You want me to walk you to the dorms?" I nod.

"You look like shit, Lo," he tells me. "Wild night?"

"You don't know the half of it," Zendaya adds. "We got her drunk and she got a tattoo and now she's freaking out about it."

"That's not so bad," Laurenzo reassures me. "What kind of tattoo? Butterflies? Tinkerbell or whatever chicks usually get? Mom might think it's cute."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure she'll think this is cute." I show him the tattoo of Normani's name and he starts laughing hysterically.

"Oh, shit. When should I start making the funeral arrangements?" he asks me. Moments like these really make me wonder why God created older brothers.

After contemplating suicide and slicing, I decide to just deal with the tattoo and think of it as an extremely unique gift for Normani. That is, if Normani even likes tattoos. Oh, please, let her like it. When I get back to my room, I start working on her actual gift. A tattoo and newly re-darkened hair just aren't going to cut it for our first Valentine's Day as a couple.

As I'm working on her gift, I am distracted by the perfect song or at least that's what Normani and I called it during our first kiss. The gift can wait. Normani deserves to know how I really feel about her. I sit down to write the first love letter I have ever written to Normani. It's not as long or articulate as I hoped it would be, but I am finally able to get all of my feelings on paper. I fold the paper into a heart shape and nervously walk downstairs to her room. Should I be there when she reads this? No. Too embarrassing. I slide it under her door and walk away.