Chapter 1
Everyone remembers their first time—some recall it as a tender romance, others as an unforgettable adventure, and for some, it's a chaotic mix of emotions. My story? It's all of the above. Even now, when I look back, I sometimes struggle to believe how it all unfolded. But one thing is certain: I wouldn't be the person I am today without the remarkable woman who unexpectedly walked into my life. She changed everything. I met her in the fall of my second year at college, and from that moment on, my world was never the same.
The party was already in full swing, music thumping from the lounge halfway down the dorm hall. Laughter and conversation filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of beer and cheap cologne. I stood by the keg, filling plastic cups with foamy liquid, surrounded by people I didn't know. They were all my roommate's friends, part of a world I normally kept my distance from.
Crowds had always unsettled me. That familiar, restless anxiety gnawed at the edges of my mind, urging me to slip away into the quiet refuge of the library. But the thought of strangers roaming through my space, touching my things, made me uneasy. So, I chose to stay—stationed at the keg, keeping an eye on my belongings, and, as a small consolation, enjoying free beer. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, trying to blend in.
And then, she walked in.
Black leather combat boots appeared on the floor before me, a change from all the tennis shoes, sandals, and flip-flops I had been seeing. My eyes followed the boots up to a black and green plaid kilt, up to an ancient black Joan Jett t-shirt tattered around the edges, up to a thin face framed by spiked jet-black hair, up until my eyes locked onto brilliant green eyes outlined in heavy mascara. She half-sneered at me, as if in challenge. I just nodded in greeting and passed her a beer. She gave me a little crooked smile and melted into the crowd, leaving me slightly flushed. I continued pouring but kept thinking about her green eyes and how they seemed to bore into me.
Later those boots and those eyes were back, looking for more beer. Her hands were empty, though, and the supply of plastic cups had run out several minutes before. "Sorry," I said. "What happened to your cup?"
She scowled. "I put it down to send a text and it must have been picked up by one these ass-hat frat boys." Pointing to a half-full mug on the shelf next me she asked, "Whose is that?"
"Mine," I explained and she picked it up and downed the rest before smirking and holding it out. I refilled it and she took a long sip off the top before handing it back.
"I'm Zara," she volunteered as I took a drink.
"Lucas," I said as she took the mug from my hands. A black widow tattoo decorated the inside of her left wrist and another tattoo, green vines twisting and choking a broken clockwork, adorned her right bicep. I counted at least nine different piercings in her ears and eyebrow. She was short, almost a foot shorter than me, with a slight build. At first glance she appeared frail but I noticed the way the cords stood out on her arms as she randomly plucked textbooks off my shelf and thumbed through them before replacing them in the wrong location. "Zara's a unique name," I said, attempting conversation. I winced inwardly at the awkward rhyming of my statement.
"Short for Zarale," she explained without looking up from my Physics text.
I stole a sidelong glance at her body. Her legs were pale and smooth and looked soft to the touch. On her left thigh I could see just the bottom of another tattoo and wondered what it could be. When I looked up she was watching me intently. Attempting to cover my embarrassment I joked, "Did you just come from the Young Republicans meeting?"
"Church -- I'm an altar girl," she said without missing a beat. She looked me over critically. "You don't fit in, either."
I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans but I knew what she meant. My body language was all wrong. I nodded. "My roommate's party, my roommate's friends, his friends' friends, and so on. You know anyone here?"
She shook her head. "No one. I walked a friend back to her room after a movie, heard the music and decided to crash."
We talked as I continued pouring beers. Zara told me she was majoring in sociology and I said I was studying computer science and engineering. The fact that she didn't run away after I told her was encouraging. The music down the hall was cranked even higher and drinkers crowded in around us, forcing us closer together. Zarale shouted one-sided conversation in my ear as I pumped the keg. To be honest, I don't recall too much of what she said but I clearly remember the feel of her breath on my ear and the five times her body rubbed against my arm as the crowd pressed in.
Eventually the keg ran dry and I had the unenviable task of turning away drunk but thirsty souls, their collective mood turning darker by the moment. All of my attempts to get them out the door failed, the crowd growing more surly. In the end it was Zara who drove them from the room with pushes and kicks, swearing at them the whole time. I taped a sign on the door, closed it and locked it.
"Thanks. I thought we were going to be overrun."
"The only thing a mob will understand is force," she explained. It sounded like she was disappointed in me in some way. "You need to be more forceful and not let them walk all over you." I nodded mutely, thoroughly chastised. Then she smiled slightly. "Anyway, I owed you for sharing your mug."
Zara sat cross-legged on my bed, sipping what was left of the beer, watching me shuffle around the room picking up trash. Her skirt had ridden up a bit exposing more of her thighs. I pretended not to notice and concentrated on stacking discarded plastic cups and tossing them in the wastebasket. I finally got to my bookshelf and was, at last, able to reshuffle the textbooks into the correct order. The urge to touch them seven times almost overwhelmed me but I fought it successfully. Only crazy people touch things like that. When I looked at her I saw she had a curious expression on her face.
"What?"
Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted thoughtfully. Finally, she asked, "Are you gay?"
"No," I said, completely unoffended. It was not the first time that question had been asked of me.
"Didn't think so." She patted the mattress next to her. "Come here and take a break."
I sat on the bed with my back against the wall. I tried to look relaxed on the outside but I doubt I succeeded. Every nerve in my body was jangling and my body felt stiff as a board. Zara didn't seem to notice. Instead she rubbed at a mark on her skirt before turning and looking at me closely. I started to wither under her stare.