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From: Nick Scipio <nick_scipioSPAM@BLOCKyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 3" by Nick Scipio - Ch 11 (MF, teen, oral)
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Date: Sat, 30 Oct 2004 18:10:05 -0400
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
Part: Chapter 11
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, teen, oral
Revision: 1.0
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment. It 
contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you 
are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO 
NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(nick_scipio@yahoo.com). This story may be freely distributed 
with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2004 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER ELEVEN

On Monday, life returned to normal, more or less. I ate breakfast 
with Kendall and then we walked up the Hill together for our 
first classes. In my Calculus class, Professor Tow was in a good 
mood, so he peppered his lesson with math jokes. (_What do you 
call a percolator that makes coffee on an airplane? A high pot in 
use. Hypotenuse... get it?_ Groan.)

In my Intro to Architecture class, Professor Spielman lectured 
about the Greek orders. I already knew how to distinguish Doric 
from Ionic from Corinthian, so I simply doodled in my sketchpad 
(drawing column capitals and entablatures, of course).

In American Literature class, Professor Feller discussed the 
Civil War and its effect on authors of the time.

Finally, I met Kendall for lunch. To my surprise, the Art History 
girls were only two tables away. The brunette smiled coquettishly 
when I glanced in her direction. The blonde rolled her eyes at 
her friend's antics, but smiled as well, her blue eyes sparkling 
warmly.

"Aren't those the girls from your class?" Kendall asked, noticing 
my glance.

I nodded.

"Why don't you say hello to them?"

"Because I don't know them all that well," I temporized. "I mean, 
I don't even know their names," I added, which was the truth.

Kendall seemed satisfied by my answer, so she changed the 
subject. Unfortunately, she changed the subject to what I was 
eating. Or, more to the point, to what I _wasn't_ eating.

"Look," I said at last, "I ate too much this weekend. I probably 
gained ten pounds. And worse, I didn't work out at all."

"Paul, you look _fine_," she said.

"Can we change the subject?" I asked moodily.

"Sorry," she said. "I worry about you."

"I know," I said, softening. "I just don't wanna talk about it. 
Okay?"

"Okay."

"How were your classes this morning?" I asked, hoping to steer 
the conversation to a more comfortable--and innocuous--subject.

For the rest of our meal, we talked about everyday things. 
Afterward, I kissed her goodbye and headed to the A&A building. I 
needed to do some work on my Design project, and I could use one 
of the drafting boards in the student design lab. Samantha Poole 
was there when I arrived, so I grabbed a board next to hers.

"Are you working on the project?" she asked.

"Yep. You?"

"Mmm hmm. But I think I'm hopeless."

I looked over her shoulder--her drawing was a mess. The 
assignment was to create floor plan and elevation drawings of our 
homes (our parents' homes, really). Her drawing was out of scale 
and weirdly skewed. It looked like a house from the other side of 
the Looking Glass.

"Design isn't even my concentration," she said in resignation.

"What is?" 

"Urban Planning. And I can't draw to save my life."

"You don't have to," I explained. "Here, let's start over. Okay, 
now think about your house. Walk through it in your head," I 
suggested. "Just _sketch_ the basic plan. Once you do that, you 
can use a T-square and straightedge to do the floor plan. So you 
don't have to be able to draw _or_ do design. You just have to 
know how to use a straightedge. And you have to remember what 
your house looks like, of course."

"You make it sound so easy," she said.

"It _is_ easy," I said. "Here, you start sketching on a new piece 
of paper and then I'll help you lay out the floor plan. Okay?"

Fortunately, my assurance was contagious--as intended--and she 
flipped to a new piece of drafting paper with a bit of 
enthusiasm. We spent the next thirty minutes laying out the 
basics of her house. Once she finished the floor plan, she would 
be able to use it as a basis to create the elevation drawing.

By the time one o'clock rolled around, Samantha had a workable 
sketch. She would need to clean it up quite a bit, but she was 
well on her way to a final drawing. Unfortunately, I hadn't 
gotten a thing done on _my_ drawings. As we rolled up our 
drawings and stuffed them in our carrying tubes, I made plans to 
come back to the lab later that afternoon.

With that, we headed to Design class. We were late, but not _too_ 
late--we walked through the door right after Professor Joska did. 
We didn't want to face his wrath, though, so we kept our heads 
down and scurried to our desks.

"I'd ask if you had a good excuse for being late, Mr. Hughes and 
Miss Poole," Joska said to our backs, "but I saw you in the 
design lab. At least I know you were working on your projects," 
he added. "In the future, however, if you can't make it to class 
before I get here, don't bother showing up at all."

I felt my face heating with anger.

Joska ignored me and started grilling us on our reading 
assignment. I had read the remainder of the human sciences 
chapter over the weekend, so I answered his questions whenever he 
leveled his basilisk gaze at me. He still seemed to be mocking 
me, but I tried not to let my simmering anger affect my 
expression. When the bell finally rang, I felt like I'd just 
finished a hard workout.

"Thanks for all your help, Paul," Samantha said as she gathered 
up her things.

"Any time."

"What was that about?" Trip asked after she'd gone.

"We were working on our Home Project together in the lab," I 
explained. "Well, we were working on _her_ drawings. I didn't get 
squat done on mine."

"You know," Trip said, "I think that may be why Joska put her in 
our group."

"In _your_ group," I said. When he grew silent, I felt guilty and 
tried to cover my sour grapes by changing the subject. "She's an 
Urban Planning major," I said. "Although she really _can't_ 
draw."

"She can draw," Trip said, "but not like you. Or even like _me_, 
for that matter. She wouldn't be in the Architecture program if 
she couldn't. Although you're right, she's not the greatest 
draftsman. But dude, she's a whiz at planning and scheduling."

"No kidding," I said.

After that, Trip changed the subject to our floor's intramural 
football team. We had our first game on Thursday--versus the 
Reese Hall Ground Floor team. Consequently, Trip wanted to get in 
an afternoon practice. I still had to return to the design lab to 
work on my project, but I agreed to spend a couple of hours at 
the practice field.

-----

After dinner, Trip knocked on my door.

"Luke smuggled a girl up to our room," he said as he flopped onto 
Billy's bed. "D'you mind if I hang out here for a while?"

"Luke's got a girl in your room?" I asked.

"Yeah, some girl he met this weekend. He claims they're gonna 
'study,' but... well... you know."

"Sure," I said, nodding in understanding. "But I wasn't gonna 
stick around. I gotta go work on my project for Design class."

"That's cool," he said. "I'll go to the lab with you. I need to 
finish mine too."

With that, he headed back to his room to get his drafting set and 
carrying tube. A few minutes later, we headed out.

Since Architecture was such a demanding major, the student design 
labs were always open. Neither Trip nor I had pulled an all-
nighter yet, but from talking to other students, we knew it was 
inevitable. As we progressed in our education, round-the-clock 
work on a design project would become more common.

When we got to the lab, it was mostly empty, so we chose two 
drafting boards near the windows. For the next two hours, we 
worked on our drawings.

After we returned from the lab, Luke and the girl were gone, so 
Trip said goodnight and headed to his room. In my own room, I 
tossed my stuff on my bed and then called Gina.

"So," I asked, "did Regan give you a hard time about missing the 
party on Saturday?"

"Yeah, but I don't care," she said. "I mean, you're more 
important than her."

"Thank you," I said. For a few minutes, we talked about our 
classes and everyday things. Then I decided to broach a subject 
that had been nagging me since Saturday morning. "Hey," I asked, 
"do you ever call Kendall?"

For a moment, Gina was silent. Then, "I used to. But..." I could 
hear the shrug in her voice.

"What do you mean you 'used to'?" I asked.

"When we first got here, I used to call her," Gina said. "But she 
was never home, or she was too busy to talk, or something. Why?"

"I was just curious," I said as light-heartedly as I could.

"I mean, I still love her," Gina said, "but I guess it's 
different now that we're living in the same city."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Anyway, that wasn't why I was calling. I've 
got some reading to do for class," I said. "I know it's late, but 
I thought maybe we could get together in the lobby. I mean, if 
you need to do some reading too."

"Yeah," she said immediately. "I've gotta finish a Western Civ. 
chapter. We're studying Rome. Even though I already know the 
stuff, it wouldn't hurt to go over it again. And it'd be cool 
just hanging out," she added. "Do you wanna invite Kendall too?"

"Sure."

"Okay. My lobby or yours?"

"Yours," I said.

"Cool. I'll see you in a few minutes."

When I called Kendall to ask if she wanted to join us, she 
declined. She said she had a Child Psychology paper to write, and 
she needed the quiet of her apartment. So I told her I loved her 
and hung up. Then I headed down to meet Gina.

-----

When I checked my mailbox on Wednesday, I had a card from Susan 
and a note telling me I had a package.

The card read, _Thanks for a wonderful weekend. I enjoyed seeing 
you. And I especially liked your new "ring."_

At that point, I'm sure I turned six shades of purple.

The note continued, _Hopefully, you've gotten your printer by 
now. Doug said you'd need it for printing out term papers. I hope 
you enjoy it. Take care of yourself. Love, Susan. P.S. - Call 
your mother._

With a chuckle at her final admonishment, I took the package 
notice to the post office counter. I showed them my student ID 
and they handed me a large box. Sure enough, it was an Okidata 
dot-matrix printer. Back in my room, I put the box on my bed and 
headed across the hall to Trip's room.

"What's going on?" I asked as he opened the door.

"Just listening to some music," he said as he gestured toward his 
headphones.

"Oh? What?"

"John Coltrane," he said. "Actually, it's the Miles Davis 
Quartet, but Coltrane was a sideman for Miles in '58." At my 
blank stare, he chuckled. "It's jazz, man," he explained.

"Oh, okay."

"Lemme put on something you'll recognize," he said. "How about 
the Yardbirds?"

I shrugged.

"You'd know 'em if you heard 'em. But I'll put on something else. 
You up for the Beatles?"

"Yeah," I said with a laugh, "I've heard of them."

"The Beatles it is," he said. Then he carefully removed the jazz 
LP from his turntable and put on "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts 
Club Band."

When the music started playing, he turned down the volume and 
invited me to sit. Luke was at the library with his girlfriend, 
Tara (the girl from Monday night), so we had the room to 
ourselves.

I don't know why, but talking with Trip was relaxing. We talked 
until dinnertime, about everything from science fiction to music 
and movies. I chuckled at the thought of a Hemingway book that 
I'd read in high school, _Men Without Women_. I don't know if 
Hemingway had a good idea or not, but I certainly enjoyed not 
having to worry about Kendall, Gina, or any of my problems.

-----

The next morning, Kendall and I ate breakfast together, as usual.

"I was thinking...," she said. "Since you've got to finish your 
project this afternoon, and you've got your football game this 
evening, maybe we could hang out after your class this morning."

"That'd be cool," I said.

"I could meet you in the A&A building after my Child Psych. 
class," she suggested. "We can spend the day together. Until you 
need to do your project, that is."

"I've still got Art History at twelve fifteen," I said. "But we 
can hang out 'til then."

"Oh, okay."

With that, we made our plans.

-----

When I walked out of my Drawing class, Kendall was waiting for 
me.

"What're you grinning about?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," she said, a little too quickly.

"Uh-_huh_."

"You know the bulletin board in the main atrium?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Well, I was reading some of the notices while I waited for you."

"And...?" I prompted. The board was full of all sorts of things: 
exhibit schedules, seminar announcements, roommate-wanted 
notices, party flyers, and even the odd lost-dog poster.

"There was one about models."

"Cool," I said. "We haven't had to build any yet. I mean, I'm 
gonna have to, but probably not 'til next quarter."

"Not those kinds of models," she said with a grin. "People 
models."

"People models? Why would I make a model of a person?"

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "_Figure_ models," she 
explained. Then she practically shoved a flyer in my face.

It read, _Models Wanted. Male and Female. Must be willing to pose 
nude. See Siobhan O'Riordan, Studio 6A, or call 974-..._

"What do you think?" she asked when I finished reading.

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I thought it'd be fun. We could be models."

"_Nude_ models," I said, pointing to the paper.

"Paul," she said with tolerant exasperation, "we're nudists."

"That doesn't mean I want to get naked in front of a bunch of art 
students."

"It'll be fun," she pleaded.

Did I really want to pose nude? Did I want _Kendall_ to pose 
nude? I know it probably sounds crazy, but there's a big 
difference between being a nudist and posing nude. And while I 
wasn't averse to flashing in the grocery store, or walking down a 
hotel hallway with a pair of nude women, those were one-time, 
anonymous events. Nude modeling would be different altogether.

"Please, Paul. It'll be something we can do together. Don't you 
think it's exciting?"

"I guess," I said.

"Let's go find Studio 6A!"

With that, she practically dragged me along. A few minutes later, 
we found Studio 6. It was a large room full of easels, sculpting 
tables, and other art paraphernalia. At the back of the room, 
three doors led to smaller studio/offices: 6A, 6B, and 6C.

The door to 6A was open, but the office was empty. I was ready to 
turn around and leave, but Kendall immediately headed toward 6B's 
open door.

"Excuse me," she said to an auburn-haired woman inside. "We're 
looking for Professor O'Riordan." 

"You've found her," the woman said. "Although please, call me 
Siobhan."

(She pronounced her name "shi-vawn." I was glad she did; I 
would've mangled it horribly.)

"How can I help you?" she asked. Her brogue was slight, but 
noticeable, and she seemed uncommonly cheerful for a woman 
holding a pneumatic chisel.

"We've come about the modeling positions," Kendall said, holding 
up the flyer.

"Oh, grand," Siobhan said. "Come in, come in." Then she set down 
her chisel and took off her heavy work gloves.

Kendall and I introduced ourselves.

"Were you both wanting to model?" Siobhan asked.

Kendall nodded. A half-second later, I followed suit.

"The pay isn't much, and it's nude modeling," Siobhan cautioned. 
"You can't be shy about taking your clothes off."

"That won't be a problem," Kendall said.

"Well then," Siobhan said, smiling, "we could use both of you for 
a sculpture class--it meets at ten o'clock, Monday, Wednesday, 
and Friday."

At that, Kendall sighed. (We both had class on those days.)

"And we could use a male model for a Drawing class at three 
o'clock," Siobhan added, "also on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

"You don't need a female model for the three o'clock class?" 
Kendall asked.

"I'm sorry," Siobhan said, "we don't. We really only _need_ the 
one male model, since we had a cancellation. But I'm never one to 
turn away models," she added. Then she glanced at me. "Are you 
still willing to do it?"

I was ready to graciously back out, since we couldn't model 
together, but then I felt Kendall's eyes upon me.

"What do you think?" I asked her. I got the distinct impression 
that she wanted me to do it.

"We can sign you both up to model for a class next quarter," 
Siobhan suggested. "You can see if you like it, Paul, and then 
decide whether or not you want to do it again."

"I dunno," I hedged.

"We really could use you," Siobhan said. "We haven't had any luck 
finding a male model to replace the man who cancelled. And as 
long as you don't have any problem posing nude, you'll be fine. 
I'd really appreciate it if you decide to do it."

"What do you think?" I asked Kendall again.

"I think you should," she said, an excited glint in her eye.

In a flash of insight, I wondered if this was a fantasy of hers. 
When her eyes pleaded with me, I decided that it probably was. I 
didn't really want to do it, since my days were already full--
more than full--of things to do, but if it would make Kendall 
happy...

"Okay," I said at last. "I'll do it."

"Splendid," Siobhan said.

"Oh, Paul," Kendall said, "thank you."

"I realize it's short notice," Siobhan asked, "but can you start 
next Monday?"

I nodded.

"The class begins at three o'clock, in the main studio," she said 
with a nod toward the larger Studio 6. "Although you should 
probably get here a few minutes early. Let me have you fill out a 
model release, and you'll be all set."

Kendall looked on eagerly as I printed my name, address, and 
phone number on the form. Then I scanned the rest of the release. 
Basically, I was giving my permission for students to recreate my 
likeness in any visual medium. And once I posed, the students 
would have all rights to the work they created. It looked fine to 
me, so I signed it.

"You need to bring a robe," Siobhan said as I handed her the 
form. "And a pair of sandals would be helpful."

"So I'll be nude the first day?" I asked, a little surprised. I 
guess I thought I'd start off modeling with my clothes on, and 
_then_ model nude.

"It's a Life Drawing class," Siobhan said with a chuckle. "So all 
our models are nude."

"You mean there'll be other models?" I asked.

"Yes, but not next week," she said. "We've already done the 
female figure, so now we do the male figure. Finally, we do 
combined figure for the rest of the quarter. For combined, we 
have both a female and a male model present. Will that be a 
problem?"

Kendall shook her head when I glanced at her.

"No," I said. "That shouldn't be a problem"

"Is there anything else you need to know?" Siobhan asked.

Kendall and I shook our heads. Siobhan thanked us and then we 
said goodbye.

Once we got back to Kendall's apartment, she practically dragged 
me into her room. More than an hour later, after two rounds of 
passionate, almost frantic sex, I had to go to class. Even if I 
didn't eat lunch, I knew that I'd still be late. And I probably 
smelled like sex, but I didn't have time for a shower either. 
Sated, Kendall donned her white robe and walked me to the door.

"Thank you, Paul," she said, her blue eyes soft and round. Then, 
"I love you."

"I love you too," I said with a kiss. "Sorry, though, I gotta 
run." After another kiss, I took off down the hall.

"I love you," she called after me.

Still running, I waved over my shoulder.

Even though I ran all the way to the A&A building, Professor 
Dubois was already lecturing when I arrived. I took a moment to 
catch my breath and then spotted the brunette and the blonde in 
the back row. The brunette arched an eyebrow when our eyes met.

Unfazed, I took a seat next to her.

"Hello, Mysterious," she whispered.

"Hello, Beautiful," I replied coolly. In my head, however, I was 
cheering. That was the _first_ coherent thing I'd said to her.

"Not feeling tongue-tied today?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, holding her gaze.

As she calmly stared at me, her nostrils flared. A moment later, 
when the scent hit her brain, her eyes widened.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I simply couldn't--I 
grinned like the cat that ate the canary. For the rest of the 
class, I paid attention to the droning professor. Out of the 
corner of my eye, however, I saw the brunette glance at me a 
couple of times. Each time she did, I simply smiled.

-----

Both Kendall and Gina came to the intramural field for our game 
versus the Reese team. Luke's new girlfriend, Tara, was there as 
well. She was a cute blonde, and was pledging Kappa Kappa Gamma, 
so she and Gina had lots to talk about. The few times I looked at 
Kendall, she appeared to be avoiding conversation with the two 
sorority girls. I wish I could say I understood why, but she 
seemed completely irrational when it came to most Greeks.

The game itself was rough, but a lot of fun. Even though it was 
flag football--by University rules--everyone tacitly agreed to 
play tackle football. Accordingly, we tied our flags to the 
flimsy belts. The Intramural refs didn't object, and as long as 
no one was seriously injured, I suspected that no one _else_ 
would object, either.

Our team had thirteen players, so we could actually substitute a 
few guys. T.J. and I had come to an unspoken agreement--he didn't 
snipe at me, and I didn't try to snap his neck. And even if I 
didn't like him, I had to admire his skill as a football player. 
He and Luke relentlessly hounded the other team's receivers, 
breaking up pass plays and even making two interceptions. Not 
surprisingly, Glen was a force to be reckoned with on the line. I 
even had a couple of good runs, as well as a few solid tackles.

Trip ran the offense like a seasoned veteran: he called plays, 
dodged rushers, and passed with uncanny accuracy (he _was_ a star 
baseball player, after all). He connected with a guy named Phil 
for two long-yardage passes that ended with quarterback sneak 
touchdowns.

Jeff was as gangly and uncoordinated as ever, but he shocked us 
all when Trip dumped off a screen pass and--wonder of wonders--
Jeff managed to catch it. I think he was more shocked than _we_ 
were, but he sprinted the length of the field to score our final 
touchdown.

We won, 21-7.

Afterward, we headed back to the dorms and hung out in the 
courtyard and enjoyed the cooling autumn air. The post-win 
adrenaline made us all giddy, and an RA from North Carrick had to 
come out and warn us to quiet down--twice--but we had a blast.

-----

On Friday, Trip and I went over our Home Project drawings one 
final time. I had done my best to make the floor plan and 
elevation drawings perfect. I had also neatly written my 
critiques (since I still hadn't set up my new printer).

When I looked at my teammates' drawings the night before, I 
hadn't found much to criticize. I guess I didn't want to 
disparage anyone else's work. So I came up with some superficial 
things to note about each set of drawings, but nothing more.

At twelve forty-five, we headed to the A&A building. Right after 
the bell rang, Joska strode into the classroom.

"Well," he said, before we even had a chance to completely quiet 
down, "I presume you all have your projects ready to turn in." 
Then he scanned the class. "I see that Mr. Fekete is no longer 
with us, which is probably a smart move on his part. And who else 
is missing? Ah, yes, Miss Gilbert and Mr. Purvis. Hopefully, they 
will enjoy a fulfilling life in the fast food industry."

We all chuckled nervously. I wasn't proud that I felt a sense of 
relief that Joska was deriding _them_ and not me, but I wasn't 
about to invite his scorn.

"The grading for this project will be different," Joska 
continued. "The technical quality of your drawings themselves 
will be fifty percent of your grade. Your peer critiques will be 
an additional ten percent. The remaining forty percent of your 
grade will consist entirely of bonus points, based on your 
artistic execution and attention to detail."

Trip and I looked at each other nervously.

"You are in competition with each of your teammates for bonus 
points: first place, second place, and so on," Joska said. "First 
place will receive the full forty points. Second place will 
receive twenty points. Third place will receive ten points, and 
fourth place will receive _no_ bonus points. Hopefully, most of 
you can do simple math, and you've realized that if your drawing 
comes in fourth, your chance for a passing grade rests entirely 
on the quality of your drawings and critiques."

Samantha looked panicked.

"For those of you lucky enough to be on a team with only three 
members," Joska continued, "you already know who came in last: 
they're no longer with us. Architecture is about competition, and 
you'd better learn this now. If you don't like it, too bad. 
There's the door." Then he gazed at us, his expression flinty and 
uncompromising.

In the edgy silence that followed, I simmered. _What a prick_, I 
thought. _What an unmitigated _prick_!_ Then a guy two rows over 
cursed viciously, which startled me out of my silent fulmination.

"Man, fuck you, and fuck _this_ shit," he spat. "I'm outta here."

Instead of replying heatedly, Joska simply stepped back and 
gestured toward the door. The guy snatched up his things and 
stormed out, loudly muttering about "lisping Nazis," as he passed 
Professor Joska.

"Anyone else?" Joska asked evenly. "No?"

I think we were all too shocked to move.

"All right, turn in your projects."

Like cattle, we shuffled to the front of the class to pile our 
drawings and critiques on his desk. When we all returned to our 
seats, Joska turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of 
chalk.

"Today, we'll be discussing human needs..."

-----

Since the Regan Incident and its aftermath, I'd made a conscious 
effort to call Gina more often, and to spend more time with her. 
So after dinner, I called her room. Faith answered on the second 
ring.

"Hi, Faith," I said. "This is Paul. May I please speak to Gina?"

"One moment, please," she said.

Faith and I had finally met each other--in person--a few days 
before. She seemed nice enough, but Gina still didn't like her 
very much. The two of them were different in almost every way.

Where Gina made an effort to dress up, use makeup, and look nice, 
Faith didn't wear makeup at all, and her clothes were usually 
prudish (she dressed like an eighteen-year-old Nancy Reagan). She 
was pretty, and she had a nice body, but she didn't do anything 
to make herself look more attractive.

And according to Gina, she was _very_ religious. Normally, I 
didn't mind religious people--after all, Kendall went to church 
on a semi-regular basis. But Faith just exuded a judgmental air, 
as if she were condemning everyone around her for not living up 
to some higher, more Godly standard. She didn't drink, she didn't 
have sex, and she didn't even like to hear _talk_ about either. 
Gina called her "Goody-two-shoes," and I reluctantly had to agree 
with that assessment.

"Hi," Gina said.

"Hi yourself," I said, unconsciously echoing one of Kendall's 
phrases.

"What's up?"

"What're you doing tonight?" I asked.

"I've got to go to a party later. Why?"

"I thought maybe we could get together."

"Um... hold on a second," she said. Then she covered the 
mouthpiece. When she uncovered it, a moment later, she kept her 
voice low. "Faith's going home for the weekend. Her brother's 
picking her up in a little while. Do you want to come over when 
she's gone?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Naomi and Iris are gone too. I think they've got a concert 
tonight. So we'll have the suite to ourselves."

"That sounds great," I said.

"Okay, I'll give you a call when Faith is gone."

-----

Forty-five minutes later, I met Gina in the South Carrick lobby. 
As soon as we got to her room, she shut and locked the door. Then 
she pressed her body against mine and tilted her head up for a 
kiss.

"God, I've missed you," she said when we came up for air.

"Me too."

"I hate that our schedules are so different," she said. "I mean, 
even if I _wanted_ to spend Thursday afternoons with you and 
Kendall, I couldn't."

"Hold on a second," I said. "What do you mean 'even if you wanted 
to'?"

"You saw how Kendall treated me yesterday at your football game," 
she said with a flash of genuine anger. "I mean, she barely even 
said hello. And don't think I didn't see how irked she was on 
Saturday, when you were paying attention to _me_ instead of her."

"It's not like that, sweetie," I said.

"Then what _is_ it like?" she asked bitterly. "I don't know 
what's up with her, but she's changed. I mean, we used to get 
along great, but now it's like I'm a leper or something. I wish 
she'd just come right out and tell me what's wrong. I'm not some 
fire-breathing monster. And I'm not going to tell you not to see 
her or anything. That wouldn't be fair to _you_ either. You told 
me that it'd be for real, when we first talked about asking her 
to join us. And that's how it's been ever since. So... what? Does 
she not like sharing you anymore?"

Taken aback, I merely blinked at her vehemence.

"Sorry," she said when she saw my expression. "I guess I just had 
to get that off my chest."

"It's okay," I said. It was an empty phrase, though. I simply 
didn't know what _else_ to say. I knew what part of the problem 
was--that Gina was in a sorority--but I couldn't tell _her_ that. 
Kendall seemed to lump Gina in with everything that was wrong 
with the Greek system. And Kendall was being unfair, as far as I 
was concerned. I think she was also asserting her "right" to me 
and my time, which was bound to cause conflict.

"I guess I just want things the way they used to be," Gina said. 
"But that's not gonna happen, 'cause we're _here_. God, I hate 
this place."

"Why?" I asked.

"'Why?'" she repeated resentfully. "My room is a dump, my 
roommate's a sanctimonious Bible-thumper-- Oh, did I tell you her 
latest thing? She gets down on her knees and prays. Every night. 
_Out loud_. But that's not the part that pisses me off. Lately, 
she's started praying for me, _when I'm in the room_. She doesn't 
pray for me by name, but I _know_ she's talking about me. She 
prays that I'll 'amend my sinful ways and be reborn in the glory 
of Jesus Christ.' God, can you _believe_ that?!"

"Really?"

She nodded. "If I'd told her you were coming over tonight, 
she'd've probably stuck around and tried to save me from my 
'sinful ways,' or something equally self-righteous. God, that 
girl drives me _crazy_."

"Why don't you get a new roommate?"

"Don't you think I've tried?" she asked, her eyes flashing with 
anger. "The head resident just tells me that 'college is about 
celebrating diversity,' and I 'just need to work harder to get 
along' with Faith. God, it's no wonder this whole dorm is a 
pigsty. An idiot hippie love-child runs the place! I bet whatever 
commune she used to run was a shambles too.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, why do I hate this place? I live 
in a dump, my roommate is Torquemada in a training bra, most of 
my professors are idiots, and my boyfriend spends more time with 
his _second_ girlfriend, whom I thought was my friend, but now 
seems to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you," I said.

"You could've fooled me," Gina replied sarcastically. "I think 
Regan's a better friend than Kendall is. At least Regan _talks_ 
to me. That's more than Kendall's done for the past couple of 
weeks," she spat. Then she looked up at me, her eyes full of 
anguish. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," I said, enfolding her in my arms as 
tears filled her eyes.

I started to silently lament that my life had gotten so 
complicated, but then I remembered Susan's words. I was going to 
have to figure this out for myself. Lamenting was one step away 
from whining. And if whining never solved anything, lamenting 
wouldn't either. Instead, I simply held Gina as she cried, her 
frustration, hurt, and anger flowing away with her tears.

I didn't like how Kendall was treating Gina--they were supposed 
to be friends. And I knew I'd have to confront Kendall about it, 
but I _really_ didn't want to. What had Susan said? Maintaining a 
relationship is work. I had _two_ relationships, so I had twice 
the work. Sometimes, the thought of letting it all slip away was 
blissfully appealing. But I owed it to Kendall and Gina to try to 
make it work. More importantly, I owed it to myself.

With that, I turned my attention back to Gina. I held her as she 
sobbed, giving her as much comfort as I could. Whenever I was 
angry or frustrated, I exercised. With Gina, she cried.

Finally, her tears slowed and she simply held me tight, sniffling 
occasionally. I smiled as warmly as I could when she looked up at 
me.

"I must look like a mess," she said.

In spite of myself, I chuckled. "No," I said softly. "You look 
like a girl who's had a rough couple of weeks."

She snorted in agreement and then wiped her cheeks.

"I'll tell you what," I said, "since we've got the suite to 
ourselves, let's take a shower and get you cleaned up. We can 
stay in there as long as we like, and we don't have to worry 
about running out of hot water. And then we can relax and do 
whatever we want. If you'd like, I could spend the night..."

"That sounds _wonderful_," she said, her party all but forgotten. 
Then she smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I got all weepy. It's just..."

"It's okay," I said. "I get the same way sometimes. Only I lift 
weights, or jump rope, or something like that. You cry. It all 
works out the same," I added with a shrug. Then I tilted her head 
up. "I love you, though. And that's really all that matters."

"I love you too," she said with another sniffle.

"Good. Now, let's get cleaned up," I said.

In the shower, I turned so my back was to the showerhead. The hot 
water washed over my shoulders and down my chest, the mist 
wetting Gina's ebony hair. After a moment, I pulled her under the 
water as well.

Once we were both wet, I washed her hair, gently massaging the 
shampoo into her scalp. She moaned softly in appreciation. After 
she rinsed, I squirted conditioner into my hand and then ran my 
fingers through her hair. Once again, I massaged her scalp, 
eliciting whimpers of approval.

Finally, I lathered a washcloth. I tried not to be overtly 
sexual, but it's difficult to wash another person without _some_ 
degree of intimate contact. Gina and I had taken more showers 
together than I could count, however, and she knew when I had 
more on my mind than simple cleanliness.

She arched an eyebrow when I began to wash her stomach and 
breasts. I looked a question at her. Without words, we decided 
that we both wanted more. So I dropped the washcloth and used my 
hands to finish lathering her. As I did, she stroked my slowly 
stiffening manhood.

After she rinsed, I pulled her into my arms. She came willingly, 
her head tilted up for a kiss. Unfortunately, her nose was still 
stuffed up, so she quickly ran out of breath. When she pulled 
back, she snuffled and looked up at me dejectedly.

"So much for what I _really_ wanted to do," she said.

"There are _other_ things we can do," I said.

At that, her eyes lit up.

"What?" I asked.

Then she made a moue.

"_What?_"

"Can I tell you about something without you getting upset?"

"Sure," I said immediately. "You know you can tell me anything."

"It's about Regan," she said.

I felt my face harden, but then I made an effort to relax.

"She's really not that bad," Gina said. "I mean, yeah, she's 
kinda stuck up sometimes, but she's really a nice person."

I shrugged noncommittally.

"She _is_," Gina said. "She's just an only child, and she's kinda 
spoiled, so..."

"I guess," I said at last.

"She's a lot of fun. I think you'd like her if you got to know 
her. She really likes you."

I looked a question at her.

"She says you've got a nice body. And I told her about how much 
fun you are... and how good you are in bed."

Once again, I found myself shocked that girls actually _talk_ 
about that sort of thing.

"Anyway," Gina said, "that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh?"

"Mmm hmm," she said, stroking my flagging erection for emphasis. 
"I wanted to tell you about something Regan did."

"And...?"

"Promise you won't get angry?"

"I promise," I said.

"Well, you know that she and I still... you know." Before I could 
answer, she continued. "You said you didn't mind. Remember?"

"I remember," I said evenly.

"Anyway, the other night, Regan and I were in her room and 
Valerie--that's her roommate--was out. So we started fooling 
around, and Regan put on her strap-on dildo. You remember? The 
one I told you about?"

"I remember." For a moment, I felt a little annoyed. After all, 
my memory was as good as Gina's; I didn't need her asking if I 
remembered or not.

"Well, she got me really worked up, and she wanted to do it from 
behind. You know how much I like that," she said. Then she 
squeezed my resurgent erection and grinned. "I was really 
enjoying it, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I couldn't come," she said matter-of-factly.

My eyebrows rose in disbelief. Gina almost always got off when I 
fucked her from behind. My dick hit her inner spot--her G-spot, I 
reminded myself--and drove her wild.

"Exactly," Gina said, reading my surprise. "It wasn't the same. 
It felt good, but it wasn't... well, it wasn't _you_. And to make 
matters worse, the dildo can't come."

"Nope."

"I love feeling you shoot inside me. That's part of what gets me 
so worked up. Anyway, do you know what I did?" she asked, her 
lips quirked up in a half-smile.

"What?"

"I faked it."

"You _what?_"

"I faked an orgasm," she said conspiratorially. "I mean, Regan 
just kept going and going, and I was getting kinda sore. Yeah, it 
felt really good, but... well... I knew I wasn't gonna come. So I 
faked it."

At that, I laughed out loud.

"Exactly," she said. Then she shrugged. "I mean, _Regan_ wasn't 
going to know the difference. Not when she was screwing me with a 
dildo."

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head in wonder, "I guess you're 
right."

"Mmm hmm. I mean, _you_ would've known immediately. I know you 
can feel it when I clench up inside."

I nodded.

"But with the dildo..."

"No kidding."

"Anyway," she said, looking up at me slyly. "I was thinking..."

"Uh-huh?"

"Maybe you could bend me over the sink and do it _right_. 
Besides, I think the steam from the shower has cleared up my 
nose" she added. Then she inhaled to prove her point. "So we can 
start things off right."

"That sounds like a really good plan," I said.

"I thought you'd see it my way."

"Mmm hmm."

"And you're not upset about Regan and me?"

"No," I said softly.

"She's fun, but she's _not_ my boyfriend."

With that, we shut off the water (we were already _beyond_ 
wrinkled). Then we dried off and returned to her room. Gina ran 
her comb through her glossy hair. As she waited for me to comb 
mine, she dropped her towel and posed for me.

Her tan was fading, but her skin was still a mellow cafe au lait. 
Her dark nipples were already hard, and she tweaked them as I 
looked on. My eyes drifted lower, to her pussy. She was letting 
the pubic hair on her mons grow back, so she had a darker 
triangle of week-old growth. Her labia were clean-shaven, 
however, and they had already begun to plump with arousal.

With an eager grin, she sank to her knees and reached for me. For 
several minutes, she lavished attention on my dick, sucking as 
much as she could into her mouth and holding me there with hands 
on my hips. Then she rubbed my saliva-slick manhood over her 
face. Finally, she tilted her head to the side and gently sucked 
my balls.

"Stand up," I said quietly, my voice husky with desire. "I want 
to fuck you."

Her dark eyes glittered in anticipation as she stood and then 
bent over the vanity. When she looked over her shoulder at me, I 
stepped forward, my erection aimed at her pussy. I slid into her 
smoothly, her heat and moisture washing over me.

"God," she moaned, closing her eyes in ecstasy, "that feels 
incredible."

"Better than Regan's dildo?"

"A million times better," she said.

I groaned in reply and gripped her hips. Then I started 
thrusting, slowly at first, but with building speed. As I did, I 
watched her face in the mirror. Her eyelids were already darkened 
with arousal. A moment later, she furrowed her brow and 
concentrated on my pumping cock.

"Oh, God... you feel so good," she said between thrusts.

I could already feel the first twinges of her building orgasm. I 
simply smiled to myself and kept thrusting. After only a few 
minutes, she tensed up and I felt her pussy flutter around my 
shaft.

With a long, low moan, she arched her back. Her pussy gripped me 
tightly, and I had to force myself inside her. I fucked her as 
she climaxed, slamming into her and battering through her 
gripping internal muscles. As her orgasm subsided, she panted to 
catch her breath, but I never stopped thrusting.

"Oh, God, yes," she cried out softly.

I fucked her through two more small orgasms. Soft slapping noises 
filled the room as I pumped into her. I concentrated on angling 
my thrusts so I hit her G-spot, building her up to a major 
climax.

I tried to time things so I would come when she did, but she beat 
me to it. Her pussy rippled and gripped me, but I plowed through 
the contractions. Then she cried out sharply and collapsed onto 
the counter. I felt a gush of heat and moisture surround my cock 
as she half-screamed again.

She shuddered in the throes of a powerful orgasm, moaning as I 
continued to pound into her. I felt her pussy going wild around 
my dick, but I ignored it and concentrated on my own orgasm. A 
moment later, I felt the first rush of ecstasy. With a grunt, I 
buried myself inside her and let loose.

Still quivering from aftershocks, Gina moaned when she felt me 
spurting within her. Then she reached between her legs and 
massaged my balls as I emptied them into her. Finally, I 
collapsed on top of her, my chest heaving as I sucked in oxygen.

"Oh, God," I gasped.

"Better than a dildo _any_ day," she said, breathing heavily 
herself.

"A_men_."

-----

Later, we relaxed on her bed. Neither of us had bothered to get 
dressed. Instead, we indolently sprawled atop her bedspread, 
nude. With my arm around her, she snuggled against my side, her 
finger idly tracing circles on my chest.

"You still don't have any chest hair," she said softly, 
curiously.

I shook my head.

"I thought you'd grow more when you got older."

I shrugged.

"I mean, your dad has chest hair."

"I never really thought about it," I said. "Although I can barely 
grow a beard," I added. "I mean, I could go a couple of days 
without shaving and you'd never notice."

"Well," she said slyly, "it'd depend on what you were doing."

"No kidding," I said with a laugh.

"After all, my skin's sensitive."

"Mmm hmm. Although you should probably put some lotion on it to 
keep it soft."

"Did you have a certain lotion in mind?" she asked, lifting her 
head and arching an eyebrow.

I nodded.

"Silly boy," she teased, "_that_ kind of lotion dries your skin."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. I'd better swallow it instead."

"To keep your throat soft, right?" I asked facetiously.

"_Exactly_."

As she slid lower and curled up between my legs, I laced my 
fingers behind my head and blissfully stared at the ceiling. Gina 
might not be completely happy at UT, but she seemed to be 
returning to her old self. Her deteriorating relationship with 
Kendall bothered me, though. To make matters worse, I didn't know 
what to do about it.

I fervently hoped that everything would work itself out, but I 
knew that the odds of _that_ happening were poor. With a sigh, I 
started thinking about what I could say to Kendall. I wanted to 
broach the subject diplomatically, but I didn't want to beat 
around the bush. What I _really_ wanted to do was...

"What happened?" Gina asked, interrupting my train of thought.

With a start, I realized that I'd lost my erection. "Um... sorry," 
I said, chagrinned. I didn't want to tell her what I was really 
thinking, so I fibbed. "I was getting a leg cramp."

"Do you want me to rub it?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"It's easing off."

"Are you sure? I mean, if you're in pain..."

"I'm fine," I said, propping myself up on my elbows so I could 
look down at her. "What I really want," I said with a suggestive 
grin, "is for you to keep doing what you're doing."

Her eyes glittered as she moistened her lips. Instead of 
answering, she cocked her head to the side. When I nodded in 
reply, she wrapped her lips around my flaccid member and began 
sucking me back to life.

As I lay back, I brushed aside thoughts of Kendall and 
concentrated on the sensations in my dick. I'd still have to 
figure out what I could do to improve Kendall and Gina's 
worsening relationship, but at the moment, I had better things to 
focus on. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to simply enjoy 
myself.

-----

"What time did your party start?" I asked Gina later. We were 
still in her bed, and still nude. After sucking me back to life, 
she had ridden me to another small climax. Then she had knelt 
between my legs and finished me off with her mouth, moaning as my 
semen gushed over her tongue.

"We were supposed to meet at Panhellenic at nine," she said.

"What time is it now?" My watch was somewhere in my pile of 
clothes. The sturdy Breitling was waterproof, but I took it off 
when I showered, out of habit.

"It's ten," Gina said, glancing at the bedside clock that only 
she could see.

"Ten o'clock," I mused. _Ten o'clock, nine central._ "Uh-oh," I 
said.

"What?"

"I'm supposed to meet someone," I said. Then I explained about 
Luke and his _Dallas_ addiction as I gathered up my clothes.

Gina simply laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You," she said, her eyes full of mirth. They were also full of 
love. "You're so worried about letting somebody watch some dumb 
TV show," she said. Then she smiled affectionately. "You always 
were a good guy, even when we were thirteen."

I felt my face heating.

"D'you mind if I come with you? I could use something mindless to 
take my mind off... well... you know."

"C'mon," I said immediately.

"Just gimme a minute to brush my hair and put on _some_ makeup," 
she said, vaulting out of bed.

Ten minutes later, we burst out of the elevator, laughing like 
teenagers (which we were, but it was nice to actually _act_ like 
one). I grabbed Gina's hand as we ran toward Trip and Luke's 
suite.

"Sorry I'm late," I said as soon as Trip opened the door.

Gina giggled.

Trip merely blinked in surprise.

"What the fuck's going on out here?" Jeff asked, sticking his 
head out of his room.

"Sorry I'm late," I repeated. As Trip stepped out of the doorway, 
I saw Luke getting up from his bed. Tara was with him.

"What's going on?" Trip asked.

"_Dallas_," I said breathlessly, mimicking Luke's enthusiasm. 
"Friday nights? CBS? Ten o'clock, nine central?"

"Dude," Luke said, "the season doesn't start 'til _next_ Friday. 
Although," he mused, "they're probably running last season's 
final episode tonight." Then he turned serious. "You know, it's a 
good thing you brought this to my attention." He couldn't 
_remain_ serious, however. "_Mais_, maybe he a good ol' boy after 
all," he said in his Cajun patois, referring to me. Then he 
turned to Tara. "What you say, _mon cher?_" he asked her. "You 
wanna watch mean ol' J.R.? Don't you worry none, I'll protect 
you."

Tara was clearly taken aback, but she was also charmed. She 
nodded.

"All right, then, y'all," Luke said. "Let's get a move on. They 
ain't waitin' on _us_."

As a group, we trooped over to my room. Jeff and Trip came along 
as well, bringing chairs with them.

"Man," Jeff said as soon as he saw my seldom-used TV and VIC-20, 
"I can't fucking believe you don't use your computer."

"_Jeff_," Trip said sharply. When he rolled his eyes, I caught 
his meaning: _Watch the language in front of the girls._

Jeff Got It too, and nodded apologetically. "Sorry, man," he 
said. "But still... if I had a fu-- I mean, if I had a cool 
computer like that, I'd be playing with it all the time."

"Dude, I barely even know how to turn it on," I said. "And I just 
got a printer for it, but it's still in the box," I added, 
nodding at the Okidata box peeking out from under my bed.

"That's fuckin' crazy," Jeff said. Then he nervously glanced at 
Gina and Tara. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Gina said.

"If you want," Jeff said, brightening, "I could show you how to 
use it."

"Sure," I said. "That'd be cool."

"All right you nerds, hush," Luke said as the commercial ended.

With that, he turned his entire attention to the TV. I didn't 
know any of the characters, but I recognized Larry Hagman (from 
_I Dream of Jeannie_, of course). Fortunately, Luke used the next 
commercial break to explain what was happening. By the time the 
show started again, my head was swimming with names like J.R., 
Sue Ellen, Bobby, Pam, Jock, and Miss Ellie.

I didn't think I'd enjoy the show, but I was surprised. When it 
ended, I had to silently laugh: I was caught up in whether or not 
J.R. would lose control of Ewing Oil; and I was _dying_ to know 
who was the dead woman in the Southfork pool. Talk about 
cliffhangers! I mentally cursed the scriptwriter for leaving us 
hanging like that.

There ain't no justice.

After the show was over, we hung around my room and talked. Billy 
returned around eleven thirty. He was surprised to find so many 
people in our room, but he didn't seem to mind.

A little before midnight, Trip and Jeff returned to their suite. 
Luke and I escorted the girls back downstairs. Gina and I said 
goodbye to Luke and Tara and then headed over to South Carrick.

"Do you still want to spend the night with me?" Gina asked.

"Of course."

"I had fun tonight," she said. "Luke's funny. And Jeff was cute, 
trying to watch his language."

I nodded.

"What's up with Trip, though? Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No. It's a long story."

"Oh," she said. "That's too bad. He seems like a really nice guy. 
And he's cute," she added. "Maybe I could introduce him to 
someone."

"I don't know if he's really looking," I cautioned.

"Okay," she said. Then she looked at her watch. "We'd better get 
upstairs before midnight," she suggested. "I don't wanna have to 
sneak up six flights of stairs."

"Let's go," I said, lacing my fingers through hers.

When we got back to her suite, Naomi and Iris were home, so we 
chatted with them for a while. Their quartet had given a concert 
that night, and they were both still wound up.

Eventually, Gina and I headed back to her room. After we shut the 
door and turned out the lights, she flowed into my arms. We 
undressed each other in the dark, taking our time and enjoying 
ourselves. I don't know what time we got to sleep, but I didn't 
really care--I was happy and Gina was happy. That was all that 
mattered.

-----

On Saturday, I met Kendall for lunch. Gina was on the planning 
committee for a Chi O-ATO mixer, so she was at Panhellenic with 
several of her sorority sisters.

"Where were you last night?" Kendall asked as we sat down with 
our food. "I tried calling you, but..."

"I was at Gina's," I said.

"Oh."

She tried to sound nonchalant, but she didn't quite succeed. I 
didn't need her insight to figure out that she wasn't happy. 
Worse, I wasn't really in the mood to deal with her resentment.

Kendall and Gina had gotten along just fine before we came to UT. 
Gina was still the same person now that she was pledging a 
sorority. Kendall even had friends--Bridget and Toni--who were in 
a sorority. She liked _them_ just fine. What was different about 
Gina?

_Me_, I thought sullenly. _That's what._

"What're you doing this afternoon?" Kendall asked, changing the 
subject as she sensed my dark thoughts.

"Trip and I are gonna work out. As usual," I said. I tried not to 
sound curt, but she _knew_ what my schedule was.

"Oh. Okay."

We finished our meal in silence. I just didn't feel like talking, 
and she undoubtedly realized that.

"Well," I said at last, "I'd better get back to my room. I've got 
an Am. Lit. paper to finish before Trip and I work out."

"What's the paper about?" she asked.

"Steven Crane."

When I didn't volunteer any more information, she smiled 
tentatively. "Do you want my notes from last year?" she asked.

"No thanks. I remember this stuff from high school. I'm cool. 
I'll call you later."

"O-okay. I love you."

"I love you too," I said. Then I kissed her and turned to go.

_Why was I being such an asshole?_ I wondered as I walked up the 
hill to my dorm. I really _did_ need to work on the paper, but it 
could wait. I guess I didn't want to spend time with Kendall. 
Oddly enough, I didn't really want to spend time with Gina, 
either.

I don't know why, but I felt an uneasy sense of frustration and 
malaise. My relationships were starting to come apart at the 
seams, and I certainly wasn't helping matters.

Gina hated UT. Kendall was peevish about the time I spent with 
Gina. I had a belligerent weasel for a suitemate. And Professor 
Joska was on my ass about _every_thing. Worse, I'd only been at 
college _a month_. I had to survive _five more years_.

"How in the _hell_ am I going to do that?" I wondered aloud.

-----

When Trip and I worked out, I drove myself hard. Luke and Jeff 
had given up working out with us; they had things to do with 
their fraternities (which was _another_ sore point with me).

"Let's go run," I suggested when we finished our last set. I 
hated running, but I wanted the time to clear my head.

"Sure," Trip said without missing a beat.

With that, we jogged from the Sports Bubble to the track.

"Okay," Trip asked after four laps, "what's eating you?"

"Nothing."

Instead of responding, he merely looked at me sidelong.

In reality, my thoughts were a confused mess. I was angry with 
Kendall for how she treated Gina. I was angry with Gina for 
spending so much time with Regan. I was angry with Susan for not 
immediately providing a solution to my problems. I was angry with 
Professor Joska simply for being Professor Joska. I was angry 
with T.J. for being a redneck asshole. I was angry with...

"Look," Trip said after another couple of laps, "if you're going 
to run us to death, give it up. I've got longer legs than you, 
and I'm used to running. I don't know what's got you so pissed 
off, but running 'til we collapse isn't going to make things 
better."

"I've just got a lot on my mind right now," I said tersely.

"I can tell. D'you wanna talk about it?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he said.

"My whole life's falling apart," I said bitterly. "What would you 
know about that?"

To my surprise, he grabbed my arm and pulled me up short. "What 
would I know about it?" he asked hotly. "Lemme tell you. When I 
was ten years old, my mother was diagnosed with leukemia. She 
died six months later. And when it comes to having your whole 
life fall apart, I think I know a thing or two about it. So don't 
_ever_ tell me I don't know what it's like," he said. Still 
breathing hard from our run, he paused and took a deep, calming 
breath.

"If you wanna talk about what's bothering you," he continued, 
"then I'm all ears. If not... well... then I guess you're not the 
friend I thought you were. You know where to find me when you 
figure it out," he said. With that, he turned and walked off.

I felt like a cold dose of reality had punched me in the gut. 
Hard. Then I felt a surge of anger. Why should I tell him 
_anything?!_ He didn't know me, and he didn't know about my 
problems. I was sorry that his mother had died, but how did that 
give him some insight into my life?

_It doesn't_, I thought heatedly.

As I watched him leave the track, I started running again. Three 
or four laps later, my legs felt leaden. And I'd begun to feel 
ashamed for snapping at Trip. He was just trying to help, and he 
didn't deserve my anger. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to 
apologize. What would Susan tell me to do? What would my dad 
suggest?

"Fuck," I said out loud. I couldn't even work up the enthusiasm 
to say it vehemently.

With that, I slowed and came to a stop. I don't know if it was 
runner's high or delirium brought on by too much exercise, but I 
suddenly realized that it didn't _matter_ what Susan would tell 
me to do. She wasn't _here_. My parents weren't here either. _I_ 
had to decide what to do. And _I_ would have to live with the 
consequences, bitter though they might be.

"Polonius was a pompous windbag," I muttered.

Then I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and headed back to 
my dorm on legs already beginning to go rubbery. When I got out 
of the elevator on the fourth floor, I thought about going 
directly to Trip's room. I knew I'd have to apologize sooner or 
later, but I decided to get cleaned up first.

After a shower, I walked across the hall and tentatively knocked 
on his door. A moment later, I knocked again, louder.

"It's open," he called through the door. When I stepped into the 
room, he took off his headphones and looked at me calmly.

"Um... about earlier," I said, staring at the floor. "I mean... um... 
well..."

"Me too," he said.

When I looked up, he held my gaze. I felt my chest grow tight, 
and I swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said.

"You were only trying to help. I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

"You've got a lot on your mind."

I nodded.

"Me too," he said.

By unspoken agreement, we changed the subject. I think both of us 
were still a little tense about earlier.

"What're you listening to?" I asked, pointing at his headphones.

"You won't laugh?"

I shook my head.

"Patsy Cline," he said. Then he turned introspective. "My mom 
used to love listening to her." At that, he took a deep breath 
and then blinked several times. "Listen," he said at last, "don't 
tell the guys about my mom. Okay?"

I nodded immediately.

"I don't tell people about it, because I don't want them to feel 
sorry for me."

"I understand," I said.

"I told you 'cause... well... I guess I told you 'cause I was 
thinking about her," he said softly. "She died today. Well, 
October 3rd, 1973. But you know what I mean." When I nodded, he 
continued. "I guess I told you 'cause I know you won't feel sorry 
for me."

"No," I said softly.

"Listen," he said, "let's grab a burger or something. And then 
let's go down to the Strip. I feel like getting drunk. It's not 
gonna solve our problems, but at least we don't have to deal with 
them for a night. Are you up for it?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," I said. I was bone tired, sore, and still 
upset about life in general, but at the moment, Trip's plan 
seemed like a phenomenal idea.

-----

Even though the drinking age was nineteen, we simply had to show 
our UT IDs at the door to a bar called the Old College Inn. We 
got lucky and found a booth in the back just as two older 
students left it.

Trip and I slid into the dim alcove and ordered a pitcher of Long 
Island Iced Tea. When it arrived, with two plastic cups, Trip 
poured us each a drink and then immediately drained his. After he 
poured himself another, he stared at it for a long, painful 
moment. Then he began to speak.

He told me about his mother, and what it was like during the last 
six months of her life. Surprisingly, his parents didn't tell him 
that she was sick. His father took a leave of absence from work 
and they simply went on a summer vacation, as a family, just the 
three of them (Trip was an only child at that point). They went 
to Mexico and saw the Mayan pyramids. From there, they went to 
the Caribbean, where they sailed from island to island on a boat 
Trip's father rented. After that, they went to Disney World.

When they finally returned home, nearly three months after they'd 
left, their life returned to normal. Trip's mother only told him 
about her illness in the weeks before she died. She didn't want 
him to worry about her, he told me. Then he recounted how she 
even helped him with his schoolwork the week before she went into 
the hospital.

I couldn't imagine how I'd feel if my own mother were sick, much 
less if she were dying. And it seemed petty to compare my 
experience to his. I simply had to deal with a fraying 
relationship (or two), not the loss of my entire existence.

"I was with her before she died," he said after a long pause. 
"She told me she loved me, and that she'd always watch over me. I 
think she knew it was time. She died later that night, in her 
sleep."

"I'm so sorry, man," I said. What else _could_ I say?

"Thanks," he said quietly. After we poured the last of our 
current pitcher of drinks, he looked up and smiled wanly. "She 
wanted me to be an architect," he said. "I'm doing it because I 
want to, but I'm also doing it for _her_."

"That's a pretty good reason," I said.

"Yeah," he said. Then he raised his cup. "To becoming an 
architect!"

I raised my own cup and we drank.

Neither of us was feeling any pain, and my face had started to go 
numb, but we ordered another pitcher anyway.

"Did your dad ever get remarried?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, brightening. "He started dating a backup singer 
from the Grand Ole Opry, when I was twelve. She's a really great 
woman. They got married about a year later. Did you know I've got 
two half-brothers?" he asked, slurring his words a bit.

"Really?"

He set down his drink and told me about his young brothers, Dale 
and Josh. Listening to him talk, I realized that he loved them 
very much. He also loved his step-mother. She hadn't taken the 
place of his mother--no one could, and she didn't try--but she 
loved his father, and she obviously loved him.

"So that's my story," he said at last. "Now, what makes you think 
your life's fallin' a-a-apart?"

I felt embarrassed telling him about my problems with Kendall and 
her attitude toward Gina.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Let's get somethin' straight."

I nodded.

"Gina's _not_ just your 'best friend,'" he said.

"What makes you think that?" I asked cautiously. I'd had as much 
to drink as he had, but I was suddenly on edge.

"Oh, c'mon," he said. "I saw how you two acted last night. You 
had your arm around her as we watched _Dallas_--which is 
incredibly cap-cap-cap... fuck it, cap-ti-vating," he said 
deliberately. "But I saw you two, holding hands and acting all 
lovey-dovey. If she's not your girlfriend, then I'm a monkey's 
uncle. But wha' I can't figure out, is wha's up with Kendall?"

"I've got two girlfriends," I said simply. I was too drunk to 
lie. And in reality, I was a little proud of myself.

"I _knew_ it," he said. Then he leaned in conspiratorially. "Do 
they know about each other?"

Once again, my pride rode roughshod over my good judgment. "Yep," 
I said.

"Man," he said. "You're good."

"Not as good as you think," I said ruefully, my thoughts 
returning to my problems.

He listened--albeit with a half-focused stare--as I told him 
about Gina and "a new friend she's spending lots of time with." 
Then I told him about Kendall and her growing hostility toward 
Gina, not to mention all things Greek.

"Then it's a good thing the Sigma Chis never called you," he 
said. "When they called me and told me, I asked about you."

It took me a moment to work through his statement, but when I 
did, my eyes flew wide. "What do you mean 'when they called 
you'?" I asked.

"They called to offer me a bid," he slurred. "But when they tol' 
me they weren't gonna offer one to you, I turned 'em down. They 
were pretty pissed off, too. I told 'em I wouldn't tell anybody, 
though. So shhhhh, don't tell a-a-anyone," he said sloppily, his 
finger held to his lips.

"Did they say _why_ they weren't gonna offer me a bid?" I asked, 
my throat tight.

"'Cause you ditched the party, man," he said. "Ah, fuck 'em. 
Anyway, that's not what we were talkin' about. You were tellin' 
me about Kendall an' her ha-ha-hatred of Greeks."

I resumed my story, but my heart wasn't really in it. Trip 
dragged out a few additional morsels of information, but I was 
preoccupied with his revelation about the Sigma Chis. The irony 
was that _Gina_ had wanted me to join the fraternity, but she was 
also the reason that I didn't get a bid.

_That's fucking poetic,_ I thought sourly.

By the time the bartenders announced last call, Trip and I were 
completely shit-faced. We were both so drunk that our 
conversation had devolved into bad jokes and worse observations 
about life in general. I suppose we both thought we were being 
witty and profound, but we were probably just being idiots.

As we staggered up the hill to our dorm, he stopped suddenly. I 
thought he might be sick or something, but he looked at me with a 
silly grin.

"Wha'?" I asked.

"I jus' thought of somethin'."

"Wha'?"

"If Kendall an' Gina know about each other, do they... you know... do 
it... together?"

My goofy smile was answer enough.

"You're fuckin' _kiddin'_ me!"

I shook my head. A small part of me realized that I probably 
shouldn't be telling _anyone_ about my three-way relationship, 
but I knew that if I couldn't trust Trip, I probably couldn't 
trust anyone.

"Tha's too cool," he said, interrupting my deep train of thought. 
"You're one for-for-for... lucky guy," he added.

"Thanks, man," I said.

With that, we started back up the hill. Before we reached the 
dorms, however, he stopped again.

"Y'know wha' you need to do?" he asked.

"'Bout what?"

"'Bout you, Ken'all, an' Gina, dude," he said, rolling his eyes. 
"You been together for a coupla years, right?"

I nodded.

"Then you gotta get them to start talkin' t' each other a-a-
again. Get together, jus' the three of you, and talk it out. 
Pro'lems don' solve themselves, Paul," he said with drunken 
wisdom. "You gotta work t' solve 'em. An' sittin' on your ass 
doin' nothin' ain't gonna do a thing."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. "Now, let's get home. I'm ready 
to fall over."

"You're the one who wanted t' run twen'y miles," he groused good-
naturedly.

With that, we helped each other up the hill.

"I'm serious 'bout talkin' t' your girlfriend... I mean, 
girl_friends_," he said as we reached the dorm. "And don' worry... 
I won't tell anyone."

In the hall outside our suites, we turned to each other, both of 
us unsteady on our feet.

"Thanks for tonight, man," he said. "I guess I really needed t' 
talk. You know?"

I nodded.

"And thanks for trustin' me enough t' tell me 'bout you an' Gina. 
Y'know I'm solid, right?"

Once again, I nodded. When he extended his hand, I shook it.

"I know we've only known each other for a month," he said softly, 
"but..." As his voice trailed off, he blinked to clear his eyes. 
Then he swallowed hard. "I just wanted to say that I..."

"Me too, man," I said softly. "Me too." With that, I pulled him 
toward me and we embraced.

"Thanks, man," he whispered.

I nodded.

When we separated, we both smiled diffidently.

"Man," he said, shaking his head to clear it. "I haven't been 
_this_ drunk in a long time." Then he looked at me, the depth and 
wisdom returning to his eyes. "I meant wha' I said, though."

"Me too, Trip."

For a long moment, we simply held each other's gaze.

"We'd better get to sleep," I said at last.

"Yeah."

"Have a nice night, Trip."

"You too, man. G'night."

With that, I headed into my room. Billy was asleep, so I tried 
not to wake him as I fumbled around in the dark. In the end, I 
simply kicked off my shoes and flopped onto my bed.

Even though I was incredibly drunk, I felt like the weight of the 
world had been lifted from my shoulders. Without a doubt, I knew 
that Trip and I would be lifelong friends. That gave me a sense 
of peace and security that I hadn't felt in a long time.

-----

Copyright (c) 2004 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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