Page 3 of Endless First Kisses
Standing next to him, towered by the immensity of his posture, she had to look up to see his face. Straining her neck and fighting the glare of the sun. His facial features more chiseled. Just like she had seen in the pictures of him. He was tall, but not lanky. Muscular, but lean. A runner’s physique. Or, a wide receiver. 6’3’’, she estimated. Maybe taller. The kind of man that would make her drool endlessly.
Every picture of him she had seen was an in expensive suits or in colorful t-shirt and pants on the golf course. Now she concluded the pictures didn’t do justice to him. All the way through the middle, she noted internally remembering her blurry sighting beneath the baggy shorts.
“If I were you, I would mark this spot. Our first encounter, and missed chance for a CPR. Have fun out there,” he casually said and walked away. As if he didn’t care anymore to hear what she had to say… It was awkward. Certainly worse than what she had planned on when she left her room thirty minutes ago.
Caroline had woken up frustrated, wondering about the cascade of choices she had made. The years had gone by too quickly. She was on the verge of graduating from college. It was a bright and sunny morning. The perfect weather for a run. A morning like all other mornings. Devoid of purpose, other than running and being a good daughter. Slated to earn a degree that won't do much good for her. At least if she wants to get serious and practical about life. Or, unless she decides to hide in graduate school for a few more years… That was too late now. She would have to wait a full year before that becomes a possibility. Right that moment, it wasn’t even a definite maybe. Just an excuse to keep her nagging parents off her back. When did her life go off the rails? She had to get up. Less than fifty hours from graduation.
"Sounds great, mommy!" She had answered her phone scrambling to open her eyes, dropping it on the wooden floor of her spacious bedroom before she got to it. She could hardly remember what her mother had said.
It was a miracle how her body functions when she is ON and doing the things she was passionate about. When she is on the soccer field. Running after a lost ball or a fierce opponent. Something about the competitive spirit turns her into a hyper-productive maniac. When it is not about competition, fear of missing out guides all her decision making.
The other passion of curating her infamous fuck-list could go on for hours without her losing interest. Ranked according to multiple factors of attractiveness and performance and evolutionary potential. The feminist answer to the objectification of women. If men can run sites ranking and rating women’s hotness, why can’t she do the same? At least anonymously. She had her father’s reputation to protect.
"Did you hear what I said?" Her mother asked. She knew her so well.
"Kind of... Meet for lunch later?" Caroline said. She did remember some mention of lunch to be had with her mother and a few other relatives in town to celebrate her graduation.
"Well, they want to see the exhibit at MoMA. What was it? I can never remember the names of these artists." The mother said. Caroline had no idea who they referred to. She has become accustomed to this kind of speech.
"Museum of Modern Arts… Okay, mom, have fun," Caroline said.
Sometimes she wondered how her mother and father could have ever gotten along. The father, the restless seeker of fame and fortune. The mother, careless and live-for-the-day recovering hippy, and counter-cultural revolutionary in her youth. How could such polar opposites attract each other?
"Yes, that’s right. Isn’t that the one where anything and everything is exhibited as art?”
“It depends on how you look at it, mommy. Have fun. I’m sure you will enjoy it very much.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? We may be late. Now, sweetheart, if you want to go ahead and get started that's perfectly alright. We won't mind. We just want you to have fun, sweetie. You've worked so hard for this."
"Sounds great, mommy. Talk to you later."
"Well, so is it okay with you?"
"Bye mom, have fun at the museum. Don’t ruin it for the rest of the group," Caroline said, laughing gently.
The call ended with both sides displeased with the outcome. The mother wanted an excuse to get out of having to go to the Museum. Caroline couldn’t resist the temptation to not want to talk to her mother on the phone. She blamed it on her headache.
Her entire body felt like it was kneaded to ground. Just like any other night this past couple of weeks. Too much to drink. Too much partying. And whatever else might have happened.
"Hello, cutie!"
Oh, right! Something did happen. Andre was lying on her bed. Seriously? She said to herself. How did she not remember this? Whatever little opinion she had of her morning and herself sank to a new low.
Granted Andre was a cute guy she crushed on for a while. Ran into him at a party once, scored high on first impression and the rest was history. He was a good research material. Hot body. Check. Filthy rich. Check. Charisma. Check. Enough to start with. But he had fallen off the cliff because of his thick head, which she was sure was filled with sand. It had to be. How can someone be so clueless and dumb?
The problem had been, she was reminded of that fact as she looked at him sprawling on her queen mattress lying on top of the blanket, the longer she spent time with him the more she had come to realize they were two completely different people. When they said men are from Mars and women from Venus, they must have thought of them.
It seemed to Caroline, Andre was in college just to fulfill a family legacy requirement. No curiosity about the world and future. His world revolving around partying, sex, drugs, and alcohol. No ambition other than to rack up the score as if he was trying to make up for lost time.
The only saving grace had been the great sex. Great sex indeed that gave her cramps everywhere. That was Andre Palermo in a nutshell. Seeing how much he was grinning, she had apparently given him the honor of being one of the last guys she would sleep with before she turned the tussle over. Not part of the plan at all. She winced stretching her body and for the lost opportunity. What happened?
"Up early?" he said wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. She felt his morning erection poking at her.
"Yep, gotta go. Sorry." She has had enough of dummy sex to last her for a long while.
"C’mon. I know you want to. Don't make me beg." He said smiling sheepishly. “I love how you play hard to get.”
How many times would that make it? Three. She had broken her rule of not hooking up with anyone more than twice. One was for introduction and discovery. Not many guys made it past this point. Two for digesting the experience and intensifying her research. Three was reserved for romantic exploration. For the kind of guy that made her smile spontaneously and left her shivering in eighty-degree weather…