Read Online Carrie Pilby by Caren Lissner - Free Book Online

merlot on yourlips, it’s because I really think that. I’m not just saying it to flatter you.”
    I pointed to the empty glass on the counter. “Wow,” I said. “That stuff works great.”
    He laughed. “It’s not the alcohol,” he said. “You are just so…”
    I cocked my head to the side.
    â€œAre you nervous?” he asked.
    Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over, put his hand under my chin, lifted my head and kissed me.
    He ran his hand down the front of my shirt, then down my slacks until he got to my kneecap, which he held. He wrapped his arms around me, and we kept at it until I was out of breath. After a while, we went into his room.
    He was happy with what happened, and I was left unfulfilled. I wasn’t so surprised. It was more academic for me. Something I should experience to know what it was about. But after he was asleep, I looked at him, ran my hand over the comforter and felt lucky to be there.
    Â 
    Class held a new excitement after that. David would lecture, pace the room, then stop and look up and down the aisles with a slight smile on his lips, acting as if nothing was going on when we both knew it was. It was our game. Occasionally, when I thought it was safe, I would catch his eye and raise an eyebrow, and once in a very rare while, he’d wink at me quickly. Sometimes, I would just get a surge of excitement watching him walk around in his soft sweaters, knowing that no one else in class had snuggled against them, knowing that later that night, I would. And when Brian Buchman was droning on and on, and Vicki was swooning, I would feel happy instead of miserable because I knew that later, David and I would laugh about it.
    One time, David was a few minutes late to class, and everyone started yammering.
    â€œMaybe we can leave if he doesn’t show,” said a guy named Rob, who only came to class half the time anyway.
    â€œI like this class,” a girl said.
    â€œI do, too,” Brian said.
    â€œHe loves you, ” Rob ribbed him.
    â€œYeah, and he ignores the rest of us,” a girl complained.
    â€œHe’s probably just busy,” Vicki said.
    â€œIs he married?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œMaybe he’s gay.”
    â€œThat would be a shame. He’s so cute!”
    I told David about this later, and we both cracked up.
    In my other classes, I daydreamed. I was somehow able to take notes, but my mind was elsewhere. I would return to my dorm room to find a message from him on my machine, either an invitation to come over or just a call to say he missed me. If there was no message, I’d lie in bed on my stomach and gloss over my reading materials until he’d call. That usually didn’t take long. Then, he’d pick me up outside the dorm and we’d head out to eat or to his place. On the nights in which he had to get his work done, I stayed in my dorm room and did my own work. I maintained my good grades because when I wasn’t with him, studying was all I did. I had no need for anything else. No need to force myself to head out to some club, meeting or coffee bar to feel as if I was making a lame stab at socialization. No need to wander through the Square alone, looking at everyone else having fun and wondering how I could join in. I had one person who cared about me and wanted to hear my thoughts, and that was all I needed.
    The winter was a snowy swirl of schoolwork, fireplaces and him.
    As for the physical part, I never got the hang of the Main Event, which seemed to be uncomfortable and ended really quickly, but I didn’t care because everything else was great. On weekends, we drove all over Massachusetts, through colonial towns and historic villages and country roads, stopping for cider or chowder or pie. We walked along the harbor hand in hand, talking about places we could travel to, about places we’d never been and places we’d dreamed of as kids.