I'm not entirely sure who lunged for who. And honestly, I don't care. His lips are soft yet supple, gentle yet firm, sweet yet rough and demanding. His arm leaves my waist for a second, and a moment later, the elevator stops. Bringing his hand back to me, he fists it in my hair, and I moan, giving him an opportunity to enter my mouth, he does, and puts his other hand under my butt to lift me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I run my fingers through his hair, and he groans. Leaning forward, he lets the wall of the elevator support me.
Our tongues are dancing around each other, me stroking his then his putting mine down and stroking it. It's amazing what little things can send shocks down to your core. He bites my bottom lip, and I moan again, my hands tightening their hold on his hair. He growls into my mouth, but I think it has more to do with me doing a dominant gesture rather than him not liking it. Leaving my mouth, he moves to my neck, leaving a wet path of kisses there. Finding a sensitive spot on my left shoulder, he bites down, making me cry out and grasp his hair harder. He bites down with more force, a reprimand for the second show of dominance. I let out another cry and loosen my hold, though I can't make my fingers leave his hair completely, they refuse to do so.
"I love it when you moan," he says against my ear in that sexy voice of his. Smiling with mischief, I move his head to the side and whisper in his ear, "Then make me do it again."
I'm sure my panties are drenched by now, with how much my body reacts to him. Needing something to ease my throbbing core, I clench my legs tighter around his waist, hoping my thighs will provide some relief. He either understood what I was doing, or he needed relief himself, because a second later, I feel his hard-on against my core. This time, we both moan at the feeling. He starts to move, and I lift my hips to meet him.
'I'm dry humping a stranger in an elevator. A very hot stranger, but still, a stranger.' But for some reason, I can't get myself to be that upset about it.
We continue like that for a few minutes before he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. "You're a freshman, right?"
I nod, unable to say anything because I'm still out of breath. I feel him shift my weight, then he says, "You have orientation in 15 minutes."
I groan. "Then I have ten before I have to go. I can do some good stuff in ten minutes," I tell him, doing my best not to sound desperate.
He laughs and pushes a strand of hair out of my face. "Patience, Prezioso."
I furrow my brows at the unknown word, and he laughs before kissing the crease between them and letting me down. He presses a button on the wall and the elevator starts again with a jolt. Feeling his eyes on me again, I refuse to give in, wanting to give myself enough time to calm myself down.
The doors open on the second floor, and I hear him move to step out. Before he passes me, he stands behind me and says in my ear, "See you around Prezioso."
And then he's gone. The second the doors close, I sink down to the floor. 'Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?'
I mentally curse myself the rest of the way up to the third floor, and when I get there, I push the box out of the elevator, then get out myself and wait for Sam. Then, I start cursing myself all over again.
When Sam arrives, she comes out of the elevator with a huge grin on her face. "Did you know that the elevator you were in was stopped for 5 whole minutes?" She asks like I somehow wouldn't have known. Glaring at her, I say, "Yes, in fact, I did notice."
She smiles and we pick up the box to head back to her dorm. "So, " she asks cheerfully, "What's his name?"
"I don't know."
She stops so abruptly that I almost lose the box. "What do you mean, you don't know his name?"
"I mean exactly that. He saved me from that guy with the ball cap yesterday, and that's the only time I ever met him."
She looks at me, completely dumbfounded.
"You're telling me, that even though you looked like two exes who still had enough chemistry to cause an accident as big as Chernobyl, you don't no each other?"
"Never saw him before in my life before today. I didn't even see him yesterday, I only heard his voice. I was too distracted by that other creep."
Her mouth pops open, and she shakes her head, dumbstruck. We open the door to her dorm and get the box over by the bathroom where she wants it. "Girl, I wish I had your luck."
Not in the mood to ruin a good moment, I tell her, "Oh, yes you do." Thinking about that moment in the elevator. "What does that mean?" She asks speculatively. I smile at her mischievously. "Are you sure it was only five minutes? Because he certainly made it feel like longer."
Her mouth drops again and I laugh. "DETAILS,"she says. "NOW." I start full-on laughing, and I mean the kind where you take five minutes just to catch your breath. Eventually, I tell her everything, and she looks like a kid on Christmas morning. She hugs me, yelling "OH MY GOD! I'm so excited right now." I hug her back and start laughing at how fast we became friends. She stills when she realizes it was only a few hours ago that we met, and pulls back. "Is it weird for me to do this? I feel like we're best friends who've known each other forever, so doing this just feels natural."
I laugh again, "It's fine, Sam, don't worry about it."
She grabs her things for orientation and loops her arm through mine. "Great. Now let's go get your stuff before we're late."
We head to my dorm, and the second I open the door she stops and says, "Holy crap." Looking around my dorm she says, "You have to help me with my room, yours looks great." Leaving her at the door to get my stuff, I laugh and say, "Thanks, and of course, I'll help. Later tonight?"
She beams at me and agrees. "Isn't this supposed to take like 3 days or something?" Sam asks.
"Yep and classes don't start until next week."
"Fun."
Laughing we head to the auditorium for our three-day-long auditorium.
. . .
Eight hours later, I'm so tired that I could probably sleep for a week. Sam echos the statement when we head back to our dorms. After agreeing to get breakfast with one another in the morning, we go into our rooms and crash for the night before repeating it all over again. And then doing it again.
On the last day of orientation, Sam decides she wants to go get a tattoo. "I have to get my 's' one anyway." Furrowing my brows, I look down at her wrist and realized I I'm never realized that she was a Submissive Heterosexual. "Do you want to get one, too?" She asks hopefully. "Nah," I tell her. "Maybe later. Like the day before classes or later that night. That way I feel like a new person and like I have a completely new life. New classes, new friends, and new tattoos."
She nods her head, agreeing.
We head to The Ink Lounge, a large tattoo parlor with at least a dozen stations. Sam looked over stencils to get an idea of what she wanted, then asked the artist, Thea, to make a sketch for her. She decides on simple lowercase "s" on the hollow of her ear, and a flower and leaf-covered vine bracelet tattoo for her left wrist. She's left handed, so she doesn't have to worry about wearing a watch that hides the tattoo. The lights inside are purple and blue, at first making me think they wouldn't be able to see what they were doing, but they have LED lamps that make it easier for them to see, making me feel better about coming back.
After she's done, Sam says it didn't hurt that bad, but that it was certainly easier since she got the "s" one first. She said that since it was small enough that it wasn't a bunch of pain at one time, but it was enough to make her prepared for what was next.
The next couple of days go by pretty quickly, but slowly at the same time. There are no more run-ins with the Mystery Man, but Sam and I filled the time with exploring Newark, the town where the University is situated. And then, before I know it, I'm going to bed the night before classes. I decided to wait until after the first day of classes to go get my tattoo, and Sam agreed that it was probably the best decision.
I wake up an hour before I planned to get up, probably due to the nerves. At 6:00 AM, there's nothing to really do, so drink a smoothie that I put in my fridge yesterday and watch Netflix on the TV until the alarm that was supposed to wake me up goes off. Then, I get in the shower and get dressed in a brown long sleeve turtleneck, my denim shirt from, um, that day in the elevator, black jeans, black low-top Converse, a gold cuff bracelet, and a gold necklace with a pearl in the shape of a teardrop. After straightening my hair, I take ten minutes just looking at myself in the mirror to make sure I look okay.
I text Sam to let her know I'm on my way over, hoping to get her opinion and knowing she's probably just as stressed as me. After entering her apartment, I see that she's dressed in a cropped, navy-blue knitted sweater, black jeans, and white Nike's, with her hair in a ponytail on the top of her hair. She looks gorgeous, even though her face tells me that she's been having the same debate with herself as I have all morning. "You look great Sam," I tell her, hoping to reassure her. "You sure?" She asks, still uncertain.
"Very."
"Great." Turning away from the mirror, she looks at me. Turning, I ask if I look okay myself.
"Tally, I swear you look good in pretty much everything." I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, but decide just to go along with it. "You, too Sam."
While my mom is absolutely gorgeous, and I do look mostly ;like her, there are a few things that I inherited from my father. The straight nose with the round bottom that's slightly upturned, the hair that tries its best to not sit right unless you fight with it, a too-big forehead, and a too prominent chin.
"What class do you have?" She asks as we walk to our classes.
"Public Speaking."
"Me too. I heard the Professor's a hardass."
I groan. "Thanks for the warning just before I go into the door," I deadpan.
She smiles, waving off my sarcasm. "You're welcome."
After going into the large room, and finding a chair that's unoccupied and not really by anybody, I sit down. Sam sits in another part of the room, near a guy that she's been eyeing for a week straight. I think she said his name was Ryan or something. I'm not sure. The chair beside me moves, and everything weirdly starts to happen in slow motion.
I smell the cologne I've only smelled twice before, and sniff the air subtly to try and be certain, then the chair moves and my head whips in the direction of a boy with a devilish grin that excites all the right places.
Mystery Man. Mr. McHottie. Elevator Guy. The Voice.
Right here. In my class. Beside me.
Smiling at me.
'Oh, this had better not be a dream.'