Page 15 of College Boy

“No car of your own back on campus?” Emma pressed, struggling to picture Mitch showing up on travel day in front of Reggie’s mom’s van, hat in hand, practically begging for a ride home with a bunch of party-hardy airhead freshman himbos and bimbos.

“Mom’s car shit the bed just before I headed back to school in the fall so I gave her mine,” Mitch insisted, sounding very Mitch-y in the process. “I don’t really need it on campus, otherwise, yeah, I would have driven to some beach myself long ago.”

Emma nodded, silently thanking Mitch’s mom’s car for breaking down. She glanced over, finding Mitch looking her way. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he insisted. “I guess ... it’s just, if I’d had my own car, and driven myself to some beach, it would have never in a million years been one three hours away from campus. And so I would have never ever met you and, well...”

Emma frowned. “You barely know me, Mitch.”

Mitch shook his head, somehow managing to look confident even sitting on a bike designed for someone half his size. “I know enough, Emma,” he sighed. “I’m no expert in these things, but I know quality people when I see them and, well, you just seem top-notch to me, that’s all.”

Emma smirked, blushing and nodding at the same time. “You’re right, kid,” she teased. “You’re no expert because, honestly? That’s the most botched come-on line I think I’ve ever heard.”

“Really?” Mitch seemed genuinely surprised, which somehow tracked.

“And yet,” she persisted. “It’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever said to me.”

“Well, that’s just sad.”

Emma couldn’t argue with that logic. “Sure is.”

Mitch brightened then, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his jaw. “I have a lot more gobbledygook like that stored up in my brain,” he insisted. “If you’re interested, I mean?”

Emma nodded toward the approaching cul-de-sac, smiling quietly. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, huh, player?”

His hopeful face crumpled as quickly as a crashing wave. “What? Why?”

They slowed to a stop between neighboring houses, Emma’s on the right and Mitch’s home away from home for the next week on the left. He looked distressed, but no more so than the way she felt, deep down inside. “Listen, a week is a long time, okay? I thought we could pace ourselves and chill for tonight and...”

“That’s not how spring break works!” Mitch insisted, comically.

She couldn’t help but chuckle, flattered by his crestfallen expression and almost panicked replies. “Look, we had a great day together, didn’t we?”

“Sure, and I thought we’d have a great night together, too.”

“Let’s quit while we’re ahead and, tomorrow? See where the day takes us?”

Mitch nodded quietly, realization slowly dawning on him. Emma might have been horny, desperate, touch-starved and ... did she mention horny? But she was also stubborn, strong-willed and resolved. Mitch had to have realized that much, at least, in their short time together.

Their eyes met at the end of her quiet little street, treelined and filled with charming suburban houses as far as the eye could see. Green, grassy lawns, artfully trimmed hedges, not a leaf or a twig out of place. Quiet, safe, predictable, like her life itself for the last five years. Until he’d shown up, that is. Mitch. Her surprise college boy. Long and stringy, sweet and sexy, turning her whole life upside down in 24-hours or less.

“Is that what you really want, Emma?” His voice was quiet, but no longer pleading or surprised. In his tone she heard a genuine question, and gave him an equally sincere reply.

“Not at all,” she blurted. “But I think it’s what I need, you know? A little distance from all ... this.” She waved both hands at him, as if casting a spell, making him blush and smile at the same time.

“I suppose I should feel flattered,” he insisted, clucking a thumb and unfolding from atop his bike the same way he’d risen from the beach towel earlier that day, all arms and legs and that long, taffy-stretched, ooey-gooey middle. “But instead all I feel is ... lonely?”

Suddenly, Emma was the one feeling flattered. She admired Mitch one last time, his sagging baggies, his crisp new tourist t-shirt and that sad, crumbling smile before she kicked off from the street and pedaled slowly down her driveway. Halfway home she glanced back and called out over her shoulder, “That makes two of us, Mitch.”

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