We would’ve been better off taking the T from the campus to my place instead of driving. I wasn’t thinking with the right head and now we’re sitting in bumper-to-bumper congestion due to what I’m assuming is an accident. Any other city and I could take the side roads, but the narrow streets coupled with on-street parking make maneuvering my SUV a bit difficult. So we sit here and wait.
Reaching across the console, I pick up her hand and interlock her fingers with mine. Gazing at her, I let my thoughts run rampant. Her smile is soft, rewarding, and I ask myself if I’m doing everything I can in this short amount of time to show her how much I like her and want to spend all my free time with her. Or does she just see this as a casual hook-up because the thought of sleeping with her, while at the forefront of my mind, isn’t a be all that ends all. I hate that we’re rushing back to my place for our first time. I’m not even that guy who has to do the whole song and dance either, but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. She’s too important to me.
There’s something else bothering me...finding her looking at the BoRe Blogger page at the library. She knows that I was ready to give up on even being her friend when she brought up rumors. Stupid on my part, yes, but I don’t need that shit hanging over my head or her questioning my motives because of what some dumbass who doesn’t even know me decides to write about me.
I bring her hand to my lips and place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. She smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek. Acting like this with each other makes us seem legit, but I can’t be sure that’s how she feels and I don’t want to be lame and ask her if she wants to be my girlfriend. Do men even ask that question anymore?
The longer we wait in traffic, the more frustrated I become. I can’t get the image of her looking at that website and quickly closing the window when I walked up behind her out of my mind. Why would she do that when she knows how much that site bothers me?
I decide to take the next exit and risk the narrow streets just to get to my place faster.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her head darting from side to side as we cruise by buildings and brownstones.
“I thought you wanted to go back to my place.”
She cracks a smile and asks, “Are you in a hurry?”
Her question catches me off guard because if my memory serves me correctly, she jumped me as soon as we got in the car. She was the one who started grinding on me. I know I asked her in the library if she wanted to get out of there, but I did so because I didn’t want either of us to get into trouble. The last thing I need is some report being circulated that I was busted for making out in the library while taking media classes.
“Um… why were you looking at that website?” The question is out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying.
Daisy runs her fingers along the nape of my neck, taking time to answer. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but either way, I don’t like it.
“It’s part of an assignment for my class.”
“What class?” I know I sound defensive but I can’t help it. The BoRe Blogger has been anything but kind to my teammates and me. It’s one thing to post about the game, but to post gossip and rumors is a completely different thing.
“Sports media. It’s for a research paper,” she says and I want to believe her, but surely her professors would require a reputable site and not some random blog that isn’t reporting the facts.
“What’s wrong with ESPN or CBS Sports?”
In a rare occurrence in the City of Boston, I come upon a parking spot that doesn’t require me to parallel-park and I take it. Putting my SUV in park, I turn in my seat to face her. I can’t read her expression because I’m not very good with this girl shit.
“I don’t understand why you don’t like the BoRe Blog. It’s funny and informative.”
Is she serious right now? “It’s anything but, Daisy. He posts rumors, falsifies information and publicly outed you. Nothing about that blog is okay.”
“Are you just angry because you think the blogger picks on you?”