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.