The Magician

One of Taylor's friends caught my eye long before Taylor did. His name was Gabe.

Gabe was athletic, smart, good-looking and hopeless at trying to dress himself. He rotated the same t-shirts with jeans or basketball shorts every day. Gabe, of course, had a girlfriend when we first met. But when Taylor broke up with me, it seemed Gabe found himself single too.

I had made plans to be in Santa Barbara for Halloween weekend so I wouldn't be around to run into Taylor, but I wasn't leaving until Saturday. So when Halloween night rolled around on Thursday, I went were everyone at SCU went, Halloween Havoc.
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Walking out of my dorm with my roommate, MK, I kept pulling at the bottom of my "sexy cop" outfit. It was my first sexy (well, who am I kidding? It was slutty) Halloween costume, and I was stoked.

On our way, we ran into Taylor, Gabe and their roommates. Gabe looked right at me, and said, "oh jeez" under his breath. That was all I needed. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to make-out with him, hug him, be near him. His eyes looked lighter, his smile looked wider and his costume was hot. He was dressed as Eminem. One of his roommates drew tatoos all over his arms, he was wearing those tear-away sweats and a beater. I couldn't help myself.

I bounced over and hugged him and smiled. "Happy Halloween guys!" I said. When my eyes went back to Gabe, he still hadn't stopped looking at my outfit. I felt sexy and powerful.

Unknown amounts of jungle juice and two hours later, Gabe and I were dancing in the dark with dozens of other people. He stuck his finger on one of the buttons that held the front of my cop dress together. "So, these just pop off, huh?" he said in my ear.

I giggled my drunk girl giggle and said "uh huh." Then I did something I had only seen in movies. I popped the front of my outfit open, revealing my black lace bra that was a size too small. "Oh man!" Gabe yelled and helped me button the buttons back up. "Maybe we should go somewhere?" he whispered.

"I could do that..." I responded. My FIRST college hook-up. I couldn't believe it. I kept saying to myself... no sex, just making out, it's not a big deal...

We snuck out of the party, unnoticed by everyone, cloaked in darkness and booze. The cool wind hit us in the face when we finally made it out, and goosebumps ran up my legs. "We can't go back to my place because of Taylor" he said. "We can't go to mine because of I promised the room to MK." We looked around and there it was, tall, sturdy and always open, the freshman dorms. "Come on!" I said grabbing his hand. I dragged him into the front door, pretending to be a freshman who lost her key. We smoothly walked into the elevator, and he started to run his hand along my back. Chills shot up my thighs.

"What's your favorite number?" I asked. "Five!" he said. I hit the number five in the elevator, the doors slowly shut, and we started making out. The elevator dinged, and we stepped outside. I smiled at him and pulled him into the common room across the hall. He closed the door and blocked the tiny window. Then he pushed me against the wall, and we started to go crazy. His hands ran over my body and I couldn't stop smiling.

He was the best kisser I had every kissed in my short life. We kissed for hours, until our faces were raw. When he tried to stick his soft hands into my panties, I whispered, not tonight. He laughed and said, ok.

With red faces, big smiles and messy hair, we walked out of the freshman dorms and headed back to our sophomore dorms. I slept like a baby.

The next morning when MK asked what happened to me last night, I just said "messed around a little with Gabe."
"No way!" she yelled.
"Sure did" I smiled
"And?" she asked.
"I'm super excited to do the same thing tonight. The boy's a freaking magician. The things he can do..." I trailed off and MK burst out laughing.

Attraction or Uncomfortable?

Dating Taylor never stopped me from meeting other guys, just friends, of course. My chemistry class was more of a party than a class. Most of my favorite people were there: Bennet and two of their roommates sat next to me, the party girls from the dorm room directly above mine sat in front of me, and Noah never sat further than a seat away from me in any direction. Bennet wasn't exactly fond of Noah, but there was something about him that made me want to stay close to him.

He had ocean blue eyes that pierced through any lie or omission, straight to the truth in me. A rich man's straight, serious nose and very little facial hair. His dark brown hair was always gelled into place, but never looked wet. He always wore one of two types of outfits: either nice, straight jeans with a deceptively expensive shirt or work out clothes. Whenever we talked, our conversations never wandered far from hiking, traveling, school or the "thing" between us.

He would always mention that we had a "thing" between us. To be honest, I just thought that my "thing" between us was uncomfortabilty. I had never met anyone who said exactly what he thought no matter the consequences. If he thought I looked beautiful, he would tell me. No matter who was around. If he wanted directions somewhere, company for dinner or coffee or to study together, he would just ask, no matter the company or who I was seeing.

He insisted that the "thing" between us was attraction. Attraction that would eventually be acted on. This made me blush, look at the cement and change the subject back to chemistry. He was an artist at keeping me in a conversation, even if I didn't want to be in it. We could talk each other into circles and both loose our original points within minutes. I began to believe that the "thing" between us was attraction.

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One weekend in the spring, there was a party that everyone was going to, a nurse and doctor themed party. I loved a good theme party, and no matter what the theme, I was there. So, I borrowed a white coat from my aunt, who was a nurse, slipped on a short, white skirt and fished out a red tank top from my top drawer. Nursey enough, I thought to myself as I slipped on some white sandals.

Noah was the first person I saw at the party. He was also wearing a white lab coat with a blue shirt that was unbottoned, showing off his nearly hairless chest. He was dancing horribly with a friend of ours.

It was like the top part of his body and the bottom part were separated, and they were dancing to different beats. The top was dancing to the music, moving sharply from left to right, and the bottom was moving slowly from front to back. That "thing" between us was definitely no longer attraction. That "thing" between us was awkward.

He saw me and walked toward me. He hugged me, and the sweat from his chest dampened mine. I smiled and said, "I'm going to go get a drink." I quickly walked toward the kitchen and avoided him the rest of the night.

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I heard on a television show once that people who dance well are good in bed, something about rhythm, and of course the same was true the other direction. Bad dancer, bad in bed. How could I be attracted to someone I would never want to sleep with?

Noah and I became close friends, and stayed that way for many years. Attraction, well sex, was definitely off the table.

How to Stay Single

After yet another break up, I decided that I didn't want boyfriends anymore. I could do without them... at least for a little while. I just had one problem. I had never been able to go without a boy in my life for longer than four months since my sophomore year of high school. This was not something I did on purpose.

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They say that as soon as you stop looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend that that's when you get one. This saying always did me more bad than good since I never wanted a boyfriend to begin with. Every time I ended a relationship, I was slightly relieved. Sad too, of course, but always relieved. I had no one to take care of or worry about anymore. I had way more time to hang out with my friends, and I could flirt with anyone I wanted. It was nice and easy.

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After dealing with a really tough break up with Ace and being dumped by Taylor, I decided that I would last longer than four months without a boyfriend. So I came up with the dumbest idea I have ever had, have crushes on boys with girlfriends. This way, I would never ever reveal my feelings for the boy, and I had no chance of ever becoming their girlfriends. I gave the boys in my life way too much credit.

You see, in my head there is nothing worse than a cheater. Someone who sleeps with other girls on the side while the idiot girlfriend continues to go on as if her boyfriend was as great as she thinks he is. Being as sheltered as I was, I thought most people felt this way. Only really scumbag guys on reality tv with too much liquor cheated, not nice, preppy boys from the university. Boy, was I wrong.

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My first "guy with a girlfriend" crush was a friend from high school who happened to go to the same university as me. His name was Steven. He had dark hair, dark eyes and tan skin. He played baseball, and he drove the hottest car I had ever seen. A 1969 Mustang Mach 1, red with white racing stripes. Just watching him drive by gave me goosebumps in all the right places.

Steven had been coming over and hanging out at my dorm, and we had even cuddled on my bed a time or two. I had fooled myself into thinking that the line between cheating and not cheating was purely physical. He had only cheated on his girlfriend if he kissed me. I had very strict, stupid rules about that.

One night we decided to go to the movies, and we accidentally chose a row which the arm rests didn't go up. Damn it, I though to myself. I was lonely, and I wanted to feel the arms of a cute boy around me. I kept stuffing down all of the sirens in my head going off - THIS IS WRONG... THIS IS SOMEONE'S BOYFRIEND. The selfish voices in my head were much louder - HE NEVER KISSED YOU... YOU'RE NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG... YOU DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND... IT'S NOT YOUR JOB TO MAKE SURE HE IS FAITHFUL TO HIS GIRLFRIEND.

The louder side won. I hopped to the row behind us (that row had arm rests that moved) trying to act playful, but he knew exactly what I was doing and why I was doing it. He looked back at me and smiled his charming smile. "Don't you want to sit next to me?" I said and smiled my girlish smile.

"We just were sitting next to each other, and then you jumped over there" he responded, baiting me.

"I don't like those seats" I said batting my eyes. "Come back here." He quickly sat up and jumped to the seat next to me. My heart skipped a beat, and my face flushed. The movie started, and he put his arm around me.

A few weeks later, we both had some free time, and we decided to go to the beach. He came to my dorm, and as I ran outside to his car he was looking me up and down. I was in the shortest shorts I owned, and a see-through shirt over my bikini top. We talked as he wove through traffic in the sexiest car I had ever been in.

When we finally got to the beach, it was getting cooler, and we were getting hungry. We grabbed a slice of pizza, and took it out to the sand. We just sat and ate in silence for a few minutes when he brought up his girlfriend, Jess. He had talked about her a few times before, but nothing serious. They had been together for three years, and he was bored. He told me that she wasn't so great in bed, and he complained about her for a bit. When he was finished I asked, "so why are you staying with someone you are bored with at 19? It doesn't really make any sense to me. We are too young to be bored." He mentioned that his love for her was fading, and just kept on complaining.

He was beginning to bore me. If I wanted to talk and hear about relationship problems, I would be in one of my own by now. So I tackled him, and we started wrestling. He picked me up, and ran around with my over his shoulder. I laughed and screamed and laughed. He threw his body on the sand, and I jumped on top claiming that I had pinned him. Then he pinned me, and our faces got close. Too close. I told him I was getting tired, and he nodded and said it was time to go.

That was the last time we ever hung out alone.

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I wish I could say that I learned my lesson that night. That I never crushed on a guy with a girlfriend again, but I would be lying and leaving out a huge part of my life. Noah.

Surgical Removal

The day after I returned from the most boring weekend ever wasted in Oregon, I got a phone call from Taylor. He called from his work phone, and woke me up. "Hey," he stuttered, "we need to talk." He paused. "So I think we need to break up."

My heart started to race, was I even awake? Where was I? Who was this? I looked around my room, and situated myself on my bed. Awake, check. My parents' house in my room, check. Taylor, check.

"Are you there?" he asked. "Yes, I'm here," I sneered. "So, I just wanted to call you and let you know..." he stuttered. "You woke me up to break up with me?!" I screeched. "Uh, yes, I guess so" he said. "Ok, great, thanks for the info!" I yelled back and hung up the phone. He didn't call back. I was full of rage, and I had nowhere to put it.

I had seen on a music video a girl get so pissed off that she destroyed her room. She ripped down all of her posters, tore up photos, took a bat to her mirror, and punched in her walls. I knew that was not the right thing to do. I would have to clean all that crap up, so I did better. I flew off and under my bed and grabbed my Taylor box, an old shoe box that I had kept movie tickets, small gifts and mementos that reminded me of Taylor. I stood up and threw it against my mirror closet doors. The box exploded and the door shook, threatening to crack.

Then, I found pictures of us on my bedroom wall and grabbed them all and shredded them. That wasn't nearly cathartic enough, so I put them in my birdcage so my love bird, Dottie, could poop all over them for the next week. "Good for the environment!" I yelled. "Don't want to waste perfectly good shit!" Dottie squawked and jumped around in her cage.

Next, I found the stuffed cow Taylor had barely won me at Great America a month before. "Now, you're gonna get it cow!" I yelled at the cheap stuffed animal. I took him outside to the garbage can with a pair of scissors and chopped his head off. A million tiny beads fell out of him and into the garbage. I left this head at the top of the pile. I headed back into my room and finished cleaning and clearing out any signs of Taylor. It was the craziest I had ever felt about a guy a barely liked.

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Two days later, I was feeling much better. Taylor was gone from my room, and I was keeping him out of my thoughts. I had enough to think about anyway; I was in my doctor's office prepping for sinus surgery. I had had trouble breathing for as long as I could remember, and this surgery was supposed to fix all that. I remember changing into a backless gown, laying down on a hard hospital bed, the nurse sticking me with a needle and telling me to count back from 10. I got to 8. My next memory was when I was coming to.

I tried to sit up in bed, but my body wouldn't do it, so I flopped my head to my right. I made out the shape of a person next to my bed and called out, "Taylor?" My mom answered back, "No honey, Taylor's not here." "Why?" I asked, confused and unsure about where I was. "You two broke up a few days ago, I'm sorry" she responded. "Why?" I asked her. "I don't know, you never told me. Don't you remember?" Then tears started running down my cheeks, and I suddenly had to use the bathroom. The nurse and my mom helped me into the bathroom where I started to remember what had happened over the last few days, the break up and the demolition.

The next day was a blur. I was highly medicated, but I still managed to feel a heartbeat in my head whenever I was awake. Two days later, I got the courage to look at myself in the mirror. I looked like one of those LA bimbos who gets nose jobs on Dr. 90210. My nose was covered with gauze on top, under and all around. Two plastic pieces were shoved up my nose, my face around my nose was bruised, and my body ached. I tried to clean my face a bit, but it just hurt, so I left the bloody gauze around my nose and just cleaned the sleep out of my eyes. I sat back on my parents' couch, and made myself comfortable. Then, I heard a knock at the door. It was Ace.

He came in the door and smiled his perfect smile at me. I grunted and waved. He sat next to me and said, "hey, what are we watching?" I hadn't realized I was watching tv. My mom brought over some yogurt, something she had tried to get me to eat all day. "Please eat something," she said to me. "So good to see you, Ace." He smiled and said, "good to see you too Pattie." She put the yogurt on the table next to me, and Ace took it in his hands, opened the top, stuck a spoon inside and handed it to me. "Here," he said "eat it." I slowly took it, and ate exactly three bites before putting it back on the table. Ace looked at the yogurt and at me with my bloody bandages, half open eyes, greasy hair, dirty clothes and asked"so, are you going to finish that? I'm hungry." I tried to smile, and shook my head no. In typical Ace form, he grabbed it and finished it quickly. He talked to me for a bit longer, hugged me, wished me a quick recovery and left. I smiled, took another vicodin, and fell asleep.

I love you

Taylor was a virgin when we met, and he was a virgin when we broke up. He wasn't your typical 19-year old college boy. He was a virgin by choice. I figured we would eventually have sex when he fell in love with me, at least that was what he always said. He would talk about how he would tell me that he was in love with me. He had planned the event, as if it were some type of proposal. Already, I could feel this relationship at full steam ahead, unfortunately.

His "declaration of love" was to be at his favorite restaurant in his home town, Portland. Portland was approximately 700 miles away from school, so I figured I had time. He told me we would be at a candlelit table. Just the two of us. I have to admit, I got a bit caught up in the whole thing. I imagined myself in a red dress with my hair in perfect waves and my dark eyeliner shaping my round eyes, the way he liked it. I imagined he would take my hand in his and tell me that he loved me. Crazy, I realize since I was nowhere near in love with him. I figured that by the time I went to Portland, I might be. I mean, nothing can compare with the first time. The first time the boy you love tells you he loves you. I just needed to put Ace out of my head and try to live in the moment, with Taylor.
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It was Sunday evening. Ace and I had just had dinner at my parents' house which was not something that happened often. Ace's mom rarely let him out of her sight on Sunday nights. They had "family time" on Sundays which was a new development since he started dating me.

Ace had to be home "at a decent hour" on Sundays, so right after dinner, I walked him out to his car. This had become a bit of a routine. It was our only alone time together. Both of our parents watched us like hawks, and for good reason. Walking Ace out to his car was our 30 minutes of privacy. No brothers or sisters spying, no parents checking in every 15 minutes and no lying about where I was. Just us, and his truck.

Ace opened the driver seat door and leaned against the seat. He brushed his dirty blond hair out of his face and smiled. My face flushed red, and I looked down smiling. He looked down and said, "there's something I want to tell you..." I looked at him waiting for the end of the sentence. All he could manage to say was "uh, well, hmmm..." for about five minutes. Finally he took a deep breath, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I love you."

I was perfect. I smiled and said, "well, I love you too."

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During the summer, I went to Portland to meet Taylor's whole family and half the town, including his high school PE coach. The second night Taylor's family brought us to his favorite restaurant, and he kept his feelings to himself.

A few days later, we went with Taylor's parents and sister to a cabin in Bend, Oregon. For people like me that grew up in a city, Ben is in the middle of nowhere. One night, Taylor and I went for a walk on the nearby golf course under the stars.

It was freezing.

We sat down on a bench on the ninth hole. I kissed him and told him that I "liked him always" which was my way of saying something nice while avoiding the l-word or the f-word (love and forever). Those words were reserved, spoken for. I asked him why he always said things like "me too" instead of telling me the way he felt in his own words. He said that sometimes he just said "me too" without actually feeling the same way. He thought "like you always" was too serious of a gesture. He just said "me too" after I said it, so I wouldn't get upset.

UPSET?! Was he kidding? We were in the middle of nowhere on a golf course, and he was insinuating that I liked him more than me. The boy was practically obsessed with me two weeks ago. Who did he think he was? He tried to calm me down, but I marched off of the golf course, up into the house we were staying in and went straight to bed. He apologized the next morning, and said of course he liked me a lot. He just got "freaked out about the word always." What a moron I thought to myself. I made up that phrase to make Mr. Insecure feel better. Suddenly, his green eyes didn't seem so kind, his too-white Jordans seemed annoying and his soft voice irritated me. And how, after living in California for year, was he still so white. I tried to keep all of my new thoughts to myself since the trip was almost over.

When he finally dropped me off at the airport, I felt better about the whole situation. I was heading back to college, the place where my life made sense. He was a friend that kissed me, exclusively. That was all I really wanted anyway. No grand gestures, no sex, no love, just kissing. I passed out on the plane ride, and I was thrilled to see the hot sun shining as the plan landed.

Tall, Dark and Bennet

I was living in a dorm. I was single. I no longer had to adhere to dress codes. I could stay out all night. I had only one rule: pass all of my classes. I could handle that.

This was a huge change from midnight curfews, don't miss practice, don't skip class, hiding sexy shirts in my purse so I could change once I got into my car and making out in the back seat of Ace's car. I was no longer hiding. This was college, and I was going to enjoy every bit of it.

So, I found Taylor.

He was perfect. He was tall, skinny, dark hair, smarter than me, from Oregon and didn't remind me of Ace, at all. He had blackheads on his nose and hair did this weird flippy thing. He wrote in computer language, and he could barely lift me up off the ground before his thin figure began to shake. He was a virgin, and at the time, one of my best friends. The best part of the whole arrangement, this "boyfriend/girlfriend thing" he insisted on, was that he lived with my four smart, funny, good-looking guy friends, most of them better looking than Taylor.

He shared a room with my very best friend, Bennet. Bennet was tall, a bit taller than Taylor. He was smart, a bit smarter than Taylor. And he was hilarious, a lot funnier than Taylor. They both liked cold weather, basketball and huge basketball shorts. It was as if they had been paired to live together on purpose.

I always felt like I was on some strange game show when I hung out with both of them. I would sit in the middle of the two of them on the couch during movies, and I would be holding Taylor's hand with my left while my right hand played thumb wars with Bennet. Bennet and I danced and laughed to R Kelly's "Love Slide" while Taylor sat on the sidelines. (He didn't know how to dance.) I could be a pretty, mysterious California girl for Taylor, and a Warrior-loving, love-sliding goof ball studying chemistry through the night with Bennet.

Don't get me wrong, I liked Taylor. He had large, soft hands that always found comfort in mine. He had dark, green eyes that shined like emeralds, but his greatest asset was his ability to compliment.

He would always grab me, and look at us standing next to each other in the mirror or a window, inside or outside, any reflection he could find. He would just hold me tight and tell me how pretty I was and how great we looked together.

At first I thought this was cute, then I started to find it strange, then I started ignoring it all together. I had never met anyone so obsessed with looks before, especially mine. He would always notice when I had make-up on, did my hair, got new clothes, anything. He always commented on it.

Bennet didn't. Bennet smiled his big, toothy smiled at me the same way every day in Chemistry class, in the halls, in the dining hall or at a party, whether I just woke up or spend two hours getting ready. He would cock his head to side and shine his newly brace-less teeth my way.

I could get everything I wanted from one place, Taylor and Bennet's dorm room. I could be kissed, cuddle and doted on. I could laugh, dance and play.

Romance... or something

A year later, college started, and along with that, my single life. I missed Ace, but I thought being sad was a waste of time, and I was only sad when I was bored. So, I kept myself distracted the way most college girls do, with boys. I had never been around so many different kinds, some reminded me of Ace, others reminded me of how perfect Ace was, and the rest I just studied with.

I met a baseball player named Ryan about a month into school. He was very tall, always smiling, dark eyes, dark hair and tan skin, nothing like Ace. He was always trying to put his hands on me, on my hips, arms, and face, always trying to hug me, sometimes I let him. When I did, my first reaction was goosebumps. His hands were rough and scratched my skin; he blamed it on being a catcher. I didn't care why, at least they weren't like Ace's.

One night, I was hanging out with my roommate, Tammy, and a group of our guy friends: two of them were tall, brilliant, very skinny and from cold climates, one was short, funny, super smart and very good-looking, one was average height, athletic, gorgeous, smart and a bit of a goofball and the other was big, hilarious, smart and funny. We were taking shots of Captain Morgan, a drink to this day gives my body shivers, and just before I got bored, I thought of Ryan. Without explanation, I walked out the front door and into Ryan's dorm building. I walked up to his door and knocked. He opened the door and smiled a huge smile. "Hi" I squeaked, and squeezed past him into his room, brushing my chest by his stomach. He breathed in my perfume, my hair and the captain on my breath. I walked to the window on the opposite side of his room and spun around too fast, then waited for the room to catch up with me. He closed the door and locked it. I didn't notice. He sat down at his computer chair and motioned for me to come sit on his lap. I did.

He said that he was making me a mixed cd of his favorite songs. I held in my laugh and just smiled, trying to play it off as flattery instead of mocking. "Listen to some of these, they are awesome." He clicked his mouse and the music started, "I'll make love to you, like you want me to, and I'll hold you tight... baby all through the night, I'll make love you" Boys to Men rattled on about lovemaking. I worked even harder to hold in my laugh. He clicked the mouse again, "One, you're like a dream come true, two, just want to be with you, three, girl, it's plain to see that you're the only one for me and four..." He clicked his mouse again, and I jumped off his lap to look at the pictures around his dorm room. I tried to think about the pictures of his family, friends, baseball team, but the laughing just couldn't be suppressed anymore. I let out a laugh as "All for One" came onto the speakers again. Ryan stood up and walked toward me, thinking I was laughing at a picture, "what's so funny, you?" He talked to me like I was his long-time girlfriend, I didn't like it, even more when I was drinking.

I scrambled for an answer, "oh!" I turned around too fast, again. I focused my eyes back on his, then pointed at a random photo, "oh, I uh, thought I knew this person. That would be funny. Haha." I looked down and passed him again. He bought it.

"So, what do you think about the cd?" He asked, still serious.

"Oh, it's soooo nice. Thanks." I was struggling not to laugh in his face. I mean, a mixed cd of "romantic songs," I could barely keep it together. I smiled and looked down at my phone that I was turning over and over in my hand. "Oh, wow," I said as I walked toward the door, "I was supposed to meet up with my friends ten minutes ago. I totally forgot. Sorry, I have to go."

His face turned from excited to confused to irritated as I unlocked his door, waved goodbye and ran down the hallway. I made it all the way outside before I let myself laugh out loud. Hearing all of the slow jams playing in my head, I laughed so hard I bent over holding my stomach. Drunk students passed by me yelling "Wahoo! It's Friday!" I wahooed back, and ran back to my friends, the tall ones, shorts ones, smart ones, funny ones, good-looking ones, and Tammy. I never saw Ryan again, but he did leave the cd by my door. It helps me fall sleep.

Ace

Ace's mom hated me. She was the first adult I had ever met who hated me for no particular reason.

I was a great student and a top athlete at my school. I never snuck out, and I was a virgin. I tutored Ace and always proof-read his papers before he handed them in. Because of me, Ace drank less and never smoked. The woman should have adored me. No matter what I tried, no matter what I did, she always looked at me with a sour smile, like she had a lemonhead in her mouth and she was trying to hide it. Maybe she knew what I would do to Ace, what we would do to each other.

After a year and a half of dating, I finally through in the towel... and our virginities. It was intensely unromantic, as most first times are I guess. We were at a drive-in in Ace's huge bronco.
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Ace's bronco was so big that I had to be boosted into it on the night of my junior prom, but I didn't mind. It was the coolest car I had ever been in. Ace's mom, and dad I suppose, made him drive a small, red Toyota truck for 6 months that all of his friends made fun of. Ace was the second boy in our class to get his driver's license, so as small and beat up as his truck was, everyone piled in.

He told his buddies for months that he was getting a bronco, and of course, everyone laughed and rolled their eyes. That never bothered Ace. He would just smile and say, "ok, whatever you say guys."

One Friday, he texted me to meet him in the school parking lot. As I walked out there, he was beaming in a big, white bronco. It was vibrating with rap music and all of the mirrors were shaking. He jumped down from the driver's side to talk to his friends about his "new ride." I laughed and shook my head as girlfriends get to do when their boyfriends act the way high school boys do. "Where's my girl?!" he yelled, even though he already saw me. He smiled and nodded his head toward his new, prized possession. I smiled back and mouthed the word, "nice."

"See ya later boys, I have to take my girl for the first ride." I ran to the trunk and threw my backpack in the back window. Ace had run around the passenger side and flung my heavy door open. I gave myself a running start toward my open door and jumped into the passenger seat and bounced once on the springy, old seat. We slammed our doors shut at the same time, and he threw the car into drive. His buddies never made fun of his car again.

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I don't remember what movie was playing at the drive-in, or what song was on the radio. I don't remember the day, the month or the time. I don't remember what I was wearing or what he said to get me into the back of the car. I remember the sleeping bag we shared, black on the outside, green and blue plaid on the inside. I remember that there was no pain, only pleasure and surprise. I remember how gentle he was, and that we both smiled the whole time. I remember feeling grown up and guilty at the exact same time. I remember feeling free. Maybe that was why Ace's mom hated me. She knew I would make him feel free and grown up. I would become a part of his life that she couldn't understand or be a part of. Maybe it was because I was the only part of his life she couldn't control. I do know that after the drive-ins, I cared a lot less about her feelings, and a lot more about Ace's new car.

High School Flashback

Every time I hear about 9/11, my mind goes to a strange place. I don't think about the twin towers falling, the families that were torn apart or the fearless FDNY. I don't get teary-eyed about my close friends who had to go to Iraq and fight. I just remember high school and Ace.

On that fatefull day when so much changed, I felt nothing. I had learned about so many wars in school and from my family. I had seen pictures of my grandfathers in their uniforms with stoic looks on their faces. All I knew was that there was another scare... another possible world war three. At 17, all you have are possibilities. What if I fail this test? What if I crash my car? What if I get caught sneaking off campus? After living a life of what if's, you start to become jaded by them, only fear the facts, the what is. This what if was about to become a what is, and I had no idea.

I found out about the twin towers while I was sitting in my Religion class doodling on my notebook, adding my name to Ace's last name. My teacher talked about how God would get us through such a terrible time, and how we needed to pray for all of the families involved. After the bell rang, I grabbed my bag and walked into the hallway. As I walked toward my locker, I heard my high school boyfriend, Ace, running to catch up with me.

"Hey babe! Wait up!" I turned to see my handsome boyfriend running up to me. His light blue eyes beaming and his sun-bleached hair flopping around.

"Hey Ace," I smiled. "How was your off-period? Religion class is soooo boring." I made an annoyed face and rolled my eyes.

"Did you hear what happened in New York?!" His light blue eyes darkened.

I nodded my head, "pretty awful, huh? I wonder what is going to happen."

"Yeah," he nodded his head quickly, still catching his breath. "All of the guys are talking about what might happen. Brandon said we might get drafted." My heart skipped a beat. One more what if I would have to worry about.

Without realizing, I grabbed his hand. He squeezed mine back. "If I get drafted," he looked down, took a deep breath and said, "would you marry me? I mean, if I get drafted, would you marry me." I smiled and answered simply, "of course," it was an easy what if. He looked up and smiled.

There was never any question for me. I loved him first and planned on forever. After all, with so many what if's, it was nice to have a solution. If my Ace gets drafted, we will get married. Of course, I never thought about what would happen to Ace if he had to go and fight in a war, or what I would do with my 18-year old husband on the other side of the planet. I hadn't gotten that far yet.

On on of the worst days the United States has ever seen, I got my first proposal, from my first love. When I think about 9/11, I think about Ace first.