Magan Vernon - The Only One

“No, no it’s fine!” Monica shook her head and tugged on my arm. “Let’s go dance and get rid of this awkwardness!”

* * *

Monica led me back down to the basement with Trey following close behind. He couldn’t even look at me. It was actually the first time I’d caught them making out. They hadn’t been together that long, but whenever they were in public it was like Trey had to keep up some sort of persona and kept everything to just hand holding. There were a few times I’d seen him kiss her forehead, but that was it. And I had just caught them practically going at it in the stairwell.

Once we got down to the basement, some mash up of late 90’s music was playing. Monica pulled me through the crowd until she found a spot the three of us could stand. She faced me and tilted her head back, moving her body to the music. Trey slunk in behind her with his hands on her hips, and moved his body in sync with hers. Once again I was the third wheel in the Monica and Trey wagon, which was why I’d been in the corner in the first place.

I was ready to go hit the bar for another drink when a pair of hands slid onto my hips. I froze. I’d never had anyone come up behind me and do that. I trusted Monica to watch out for me and not let some guy take advantage of me, but at the same time I was intrigued about who the hands belonged to. I glanced back and locked eyes with John Boy; his very gaze making me tremble.

“I was right about how good that shirt would look on you.” His lips were hot on my ear and linked a direct line to my panties.

“It’s, um, a little big, don’t you think?” I managed to squeak out as he rocked my hips back against him.

“Don’t you like things big?”

I swallowed. My stomach felt like it had dropped to my knees. I tried to regain my thoughts when he laughed against my neck. “I’m just giving you shit, Red, don’t take it too seriously. Just dance with me.”

He turned me around so I was facing him. I had to practically stand on my tiptoes while he crouched down so my face wasn’t in his chest. That still didn’t stop me from staring at his chiseled form and also made me acutely aware how subpar my body was compared to his. I tried to suck in my stomach as he pulled me closer, pressing against me.

He mouthed the words to the music and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you a Backstreet Boys fan?” I had to practically yell over the music and the people making grunting noises around us. Whatever they were doing I didn’t want to know.

His laugh tickled my lips and even in the dark basement I could see his blue eyes sparkling. “My older sister was really into them so we always had this on in my mom’s minivan on the way to school.”

“Rocking out in a minivan, I didn’t take you to be that type of guy.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Red, and a lot I’d be willing to show you.” Before I could respond his hands slid behind my head and he tilted my chin up, putting his mouth to mine. I parted my lips slightly and his tongue slipped in and out teasingly, twirling with mine. He didn’t taste like alcohol, like I would have expected. His kisses were sweet like strawberry bubblegum and I wanted to taste him over and over. His hands slid down to my lower back, his tongue continuing to explore my mouth. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip and I felt a low moan gather in my throat. I craved more of him, slipping my fingers into his hair and pulling him closer, trying to deepen our kiss, but he didn’t budge.

He broke the kiss, placing a peck on my forehead before leaning down so his lips were on my ear. “Not here, Red, but if you want to go up to my room to continue this, I’d be happy to accommodate you.”

Did I want to? He was a damn good kisser, probably the best I’d ever had. And his body looked like something Photoshopped out of 300. But I didn’t think I wanted to just be another notch on his bedpost. Luckily Monica came to my rescue as usual.

Her hand was on my shoulder and she turned me around. She stood there with her eyebrows furrowed and Trey was right at her back with his arms around her waist. “Hey, are you ready to go, Mel?”

“Now? But it’s so early.” And I wanted to keep dancing with John Boy, no matter how stupid his nickname was and even if I didn’t go back up to his bedroom, I could still deal with just making out and whatever else we were doing.

“Early?” Her eyes bugged out. “It’s 2 am?”

“Seriously?” When did I lose track of time? I swore we had just left my apartment.

John Boy’s arm slinked around my waist. “You two can go have your fun and I can bring Red home later.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.” Monica yanked me forward until John Boy let go of me.

“I’m fine, really, my apartment isn’t that far.”

“Which is why me and Trey can walk you.”

John Boy leaned in over my shoulder. “I can walk her home when she needs it.”

“Watch it, loincloth, I’m not afraid to spork your eyes out.”

“Hey, let’s be reasonable here,” Trey spoke up. “I’m sure Melanie would be perfectly fine with having John Boy take her home.”

Monica whipped her head in Trey’s direction. “Are you serious right now? I am NOT just leaving my friend at a party.”

“She’ll be fine. He’s not going to do anything to her.”

Before Monica and Trey could continue their argument I groaned and yelled over them. “I’m right here, you don’t need to talk about me like I’m not.”

They both snapped their attention to me. “Sorry, Mel,” Monica grumbled.

I sighed. “And I’m ready to go.”

I glanced over my shoulder at John Boy. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, grazing my knuckles. “I wish you’d stay, Red, but I understand if you have to leave.”

Locking my eyes with his, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to trace the lines of his tattoos and get tangled in his sheets. But that wasn’t what a girl like me did. That’s why I didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t just jump in bed with random guys, no matter how hot they were.

“I do, though.” I peeled my hand away. “Goodbye, John.”

I should have kept a closer eye on the time because only four hours after I left the party I had to be at work. I groaned when I heard the ringing of my alarm clock and begged for it to be the wrong time.

No such luck.

My curtains were closed, but I could still make out the slight morning light. At least I was a student manager in a coffee shop, so I could just caffeinate myself up and get a nap in at noon.

I swung my legs over the bed and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. The top I was wearing fell down to my legs and that’s when I remembered that I fell asleep wearing John Boy’s shirt. It even still smelled like him. Yes, he might have been sweaty that night, but his cologne was amazing. It wasn’t overpowering like the expensive stuff Trey wore, but a light scent, like fresh cotton.

That was the moment I realized I was sniffing his shirt and felt like an idiot. I tore off the shirt and walked the few feet through my tiny living room to my bathroom, throwing it in the hamper. Better to wash the shirt and give it back to him right away. Monica would probably be asking for it soon anyway. By the way she was acting I could tell she didn’t think too highly of the guy, even though I was pretty sure he was Trey’s fraternity big brother.

There were still remnants of the red drink that had dried into a sticky goo on my stomach and I needed a long scrub. I showered, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, put on some makeup, and went back out into the living room. I couldn’t have shared my box of a studio apartment with a roommate. It only took about ten steps to get from the bathroom to my closet and I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me naked. But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone in my apartment. Someone who looked very good in just a loincloth.

I shook the thoughts out of my head as I slipped my regulation uniform red polo over my head. I couldn’t keep thinking about John Boy. He wasn’t the type of guy that dated girls like me. He was the guy that wanted one thing. Not that it would have been a bad thing, either. My high school boyfriend and I tried to work it out our freshman year of college, but I preferred to stay faithful and he preferred to screw other girls. I’d been single since I caught him cheating when I went to visit him at his school. I’d met a string of guys in some of my English classes, but nothing did it for me like John Boy did on the dance floor. Maybe all I needed was to just screw him and get it over with. That wasn’t my usual M.O., but maybe it was time for something new.

No, no, no. Monica would kill me. Or maybe she wouldn’t have to know.

* * *

Brewster’s Beans was located on the first floor of the student center. It was decorated in red and black to match the school colors. Hardly anyone came in on Sunday mornings so I always found myself rearranging coffee bags and counting the floor tiles.

I was the only person working until ten when Monica came in, so I brought some homework to work on after I started all the drip coffees. I was just finishing a chapter of my history textbook when I heard footsteps on the floor near me.

Quickly, I shoved my book underneath the counter and looked up to meet a lazy grin and bright blue eyes. John Boy. He was wearing a blue t-shirt with red AM letters across his very broad chest. His biceps were busting out of his shirt and I couldn’t help letting my gaze trail to the tattoos on them. I really wanted to get a better look, but wasn’t sure how exactly to ask a guy to take his shirt off in a public place. Though this was the guy who wore a loincloth to a party, so he probably would have been up for it.

“I thought I remembered you worked here with the Lib.” He sauntered closer, leaning against the pastry case.

“Yeah...yeah I do.” My cheeks grew hot. I probably looked like crap from my lack of sleep and the fact that I ran out of foundation. And even with little sleep the Greek God was standing in front of me looking—and smelling—fresher than ever.

“Well that’s good, because I was really craving a donut.” He leaned in closer. “Maybe you can help me out with one?”

“I, uh, yeah, I can totally get you a donut.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the donuts in the pastry case or making a reference to his ‘smile like a donut’ shirt. Either way, I thought I’d play along.

“Or I can get you one.” His fingers trailed the bare skin on my arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I gasped and jumped back when I heard Monica’s voice behind me.

“Hey Mon,” I said and looked back at her. Her eyes were locked on John Boy, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“Good morning, Lib, pleasure seeing you here.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Are you meeting Trey?”

John Boy shook his head with a small smile on his face. “No, just thought I’d see if I could get a donut.”

“I hope you’re talking about the kind in the pastry case,” Monica said.

He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not.” He shot a wink in my direction. “I guess I’ll just take a rain check on that donut, Red.”

With that, he pushed off the counter and walked out the side door. Monica followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight.

Monica blinked, looking at me like I had something weird on my face. “Um, what was that about?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He just came in all flirty. He’d never actually done that before the party. I wonder if he even knew I existed.”

Monica smiled, adjusting her baseball cap with ‘Student Dining Services’ embroidered across it. “Maybe that Hermione costume really does have some magic on it.”

“You leave my costume out of this.” Monica didn’t understand my Harry Potter obsession. Okay, maybe not an obsession. It was something I tried to hide from the other English majors, but really there was nothing better than a good book with action and magic.

“Wasn’t there some guy in one of your Lit classes you were interested in, anyway?” She asked, quickly changing the subject off John Boy and my costume.

“You mean Walt?”

“Yeah. Was he the one that was really into Kerouac and smoked those black cigarettes?”

Walt Hines was the epitome of an English major. He always carried around a worn out copy of Slaughterhouse-Five and wore hipster glasses with his girl jeans. I thought he was the type of guy I wanted to be with, until I actually hung out with him. He spent the night scrutinizing every book I’d ever read and told me Harry Potter wasn’t real literature. Once a guy slams down the Weasleys, it’s over.