First Semester (16 page)

This was the moment of truth. In the fifteen seconds it would take for me to corral a condom from the pocket of my jeans, Kat would have time to think, which for me meant one of two things. She could become increasingly horny and begin playing with herself, as she moaned lustfully, begging me to hurry back to the bed. Or she could overthink the situation, come to her senses and realize that she still had feelings for Downtown-D, and was seconds away from giving it up too soon to a transportationless freshman who she really didn't know all too well.

I tried to kill two birds with one stone, by kissing her neck and rubbing her shoulder with one hand while slinging my other hand off the side of the bed to grab my jeans. After nearly two minutes of fumbling around with my jeans, turning my pockets virtually inside out in search of contraception, I realized I didn't have any. In my haste to get with Katrina, I'd completely forgotten to grab a couple of rubbers from my stash. This was the worst-case scenario.

“Everything okay, baby?” Kat murmured as she gently French-kissed my neck, pulling my body closer to hers.

Once again, I was faced with two options. I could ask Kat if she had any condoms and run the risk of her getting out of giving it up by shooting me the oldest line in the book—“Maybe this just wasn't meant to be.” Or I could run the risk of having baby mama drama for the next eighteen years, or worse, contracting an STD, and go skinny-dipping. The choice was mine. As I pondered the repercussions, I knew the logical choice would leave me with a bad case of blue balls, and no story to tell my boys in the morning. And with Kat being the biggest safe sex advocate on campus, and arguably the best looking, option two didn't sound so bad.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she licked the back of my earlobe and cuffed my butt cheeks in her hands. “I want to feel you inside me.”

With that, I decided to take my chances. My heart beating like a snare drum at a rock concert, I wiggled in between Kat's moist thighs and went to work, as Tyrese's “Signs of Love Making” played softly on her stereo. The sequence of events that followed ended as quickly as they started. There were a total of ten pumps in all. The first five thrusts were the best. My pelvis stroked her clitoris with every fluctuation. Her pussyfelt like a heated glove, giving my shaft a warm squeeze every time I entered her. I was definitely in rhythm. I knew that Downtown-D would be a hard act to follow, but judging by her consecutive moans and increasing moisture, I was meeting the quota. Her sexual energy fed my ego. The second five pumps were the most intense. They were also my last five. All of a sudden, the sex began feeling too good. The glove was fastened too tight. The heat was too warm. And I was too excited. I knew that things were getting out of hand, but slowing down would have been harder than stopping an oncoming train with my bare hands. I thought about everything that I could to keep my mind off the enjoyable sensation. I imagined Michael Jordan's NBA Championship game-winning shot over Bryon Russell, the Soul Glo commercial in
Coming to America,
and that white guy wrestling crocodiles on the Discovery Channel. I even tried reciting my ABCs in my head. Nothing worked. By the tenth stroke I knew that there was no stopping the inevitable—Kat was going, and I was coming. I tried to wallow in between Kat's thighs and pretend I hadn't climaxed, but it was no use. I was as soft as sushi. She looked up at me and whimpered, looking disappointed. I couldn't blame her. Tyrese hadn't even started singing the chorus yet.

I was past embarrassed. I felt humiliated. I felt like my basketball team was down by one point with two seconds left in the fourth quarter, and I had air-balled a wide-open layup. I'd been called many things in my life, but a minute man had never been one of them. I didn't know what to say, but I knew I had to say something.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” she asked, with a slight smirk on her face.

I was hoping the question was rhetorical. But the uncomfortable silence that followed assured me she was actually awaiting an answer.

“What can I say, baby?” I said as I pulled out. “I mean, you've got that Aquafina flow. I wish you would've warned me.”

“J.D.,” she said, looking underneath the sheets. “
Please
tell me you were wearing a condom.”

“I thought you knew I wasn't wearing one. I mean, you didn't see me put one on, did you?”

“I thought that's what you were doing all of that fumbling around for,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my goodness! You came inside me too, didn't you?”

“I didn't mean to,” I said. “I was just caught up in the moment.”

“
Caught up?
Look, you're doing way too much right now. I can't believe you just did that! That's not cool. That can't ever happen again.”

For a second I just lay there, uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. “You're on the pill, right?”

“Yes, I'm on the pill. Thank God! But that doesn't mean…Ugh…Okay,” she said, shaking like she got a chill. “Thinking about what just happened makes me nervous, so I'm going to let it go because it's just going to keep messing with my head. All I know is you better not have anything.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What did you say?”

“I said you don't have to worry about me having anything,” I said.

“Well, I hope not…I don't know…Maybe all of this just happened too fast.”

“Maybe you're right,” I said.

“But I guess what's done is done,” she said, matter-of-factly. “So, is that it? Are you finished?”

“Please, baby,” I said. “That was just warm-ups. All I need is five minutes, some Kool-Aid and I'm straight. We ain't even got to the game yet.”

“I can give you a few minutes. I just hope you've got more stamina come game time,” she said. “If not, I might have a spot for you on the bench.”

“I'm a starter, baby.”

“A finisher too, I see.”

“Oh, I see somebody's got jokes,” I said. “We'll see who has the last laugh.”

KING OF THE CAF

M
y tutorial sessions with Kat had finally paid off. For one, I'd stunned her with my performance in round two. By the morning, my magic stick had her digging her nails into my back, curling her toes, screaming out loud and calling me daddy. I couldn't help smiling every time I thought about it. But more importantly, I'd scored an eighty-seven on my First Year Seminar midterm.

At first, I couldn't believe it. I hadn't seen an eighty-seven on a piece of paper with my name on it since finding out what my jersey number was going to be in Little League football, when I played wide receiver. I was so excited I folded the test in half and placed it in my back pocket, just in case I had to whip it out on somebody. Dr. J didn't say much about my test score. As a matter of fact, he didn't say anything. He just dapped me up on the way out, and nodded his head, giving me an “I knew you could do it” look. His assuredness made me think that just maybe my score wasn't a fluke after all. I couldn't help but walk out of class with my chest poked out and a million-dollar smile on my face. I bumped into Timothy on the way down the steps.

“So, how did you do on the test?” I asked.

Before he could answer, I contemplated what I'd just said. It had been so long since I'd fixed my lips to ask that question, it almost seemed surreal. The only students who ever asked that question were the ones who always made good grades. I was never one of them. I was usually the one crumbling up my test and tossing it in my backpack before anyone else could see my score.

“I'd rather not discuss it,” he said.

“C'mon, man, what did you get?” I asked. “You couldn't have done worse than me.”

Yet another line from the “I-did-better-than-you-and-I-know-it” smarty-pants booklet. I thought to myself,
Where is this stuff coming from?

“If you wouldn't mind, I really would prefer not to disclose my test results with you or anyone else,” he said.

“You did that bad, huh?”

“You just won't leave it alone, will you?”

“C'mon, man, I'm your roommate. You can tell me.”

“I got a freakin' seventy-two!” he said, flailing his arms.

“A seventy-two?”

“Yes, seven-two! A seventy-two! For the first time in my life, I got a C on a test. Are you happy now? I mean, hell! Can you give it a rest already?”

“Easy on the curse words, man,” I said with a giggle. “My bad. I didn't know you were taking it so seriously.”

“I take every test seriously. I know I could've done better. It's just that I haven't had time to do anything lately. I haven't had time to eat. I haven't had time to sleep. I haven't even had time to study.”

“What have you been doing?”

“You wouldn't understand, man. You just wouldn't.”

“You still reading the Bible on the regular?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I don't know. I guess because I'm so used to seeing you carrying it around everywhere. And lately, you just haven't seemed like yourself.”

“Well, it's funny you should mention it, because I've been doing some thinking lately. And the more I analyze the situation, the more I think, you may have been right about what you said that day about the Bible.”

“
I
was right?” I asked in disbelief.

“I think that you proposed a valid point. I've been doing a lot of research on different religions in my Comparative Religion class. And I've come to the conclusion that I should be more open-minded about different types of religious beliefs and faiths. Until now, I'd never really paid any attention to Buddhist or Muslim faiths.”

“Hold up, blood,” I said. “You telling me you figna be out there in the middle of the street wearing a bow tie selling the
Final Call
and bean pies?”

“I haven't exactly decided to take it that far just yet. All I know is that I feel like I've been living my entire life in a box—going to Sunday school, going to church, going to Bible study—and I'm just tired of doing the religious thing. I'd rather do it because that's what I want to do, not because it's what I'm trained to do.”

“So, what you trying to say?”

“I'm just confused right now. And until I clear things up, I've decided to go easy on the Bible for now.”

“You sure about that?” I asked.

“To be honest, I'm not sure about too much of anything these days,” he said as he cut across the grass toward the dorm. “I'll see you around.”

“Hey, before you go…” I said, scurrying over toward him. “Dr. J told me something not too long ago that really made me put my life in perspective. I was thinking it might help you too.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that all progress requires change, but not all change is progress.”

“Philosophically speaking, that's one of the deepest things I've heard in a long time. But what does it mean?”

“Hey, that's for you to figure out, blood,” I said as I turned to walk away.

“Thanks for listening, J.D. Thanks a lot.”

“It's nothing,” I said as I headed toward the Caf.

Not even Timothy's midsemester crisis could rain on my parade. That day, I strutted into the Caf with the wind at my back and confidence written all over my face. I had good reason to hold my head high. The combination of my midterm results and my night with Kat made me feel like I was the man on campus, if only for that day—and nobody was going to ruin it. I'd come to terms with the possibility that I may be as close to walking in Downtown-D's shoes as I'd ever be, so I embraced it. I could feel the females watching as I glided toward the table where all of my boys were sitting. I felt like I was walking on a cloud.

“That's my guy,” Stretch said with a large grin as he dapped me up.

“You a fool, blood,” I said.

“On the real, though, I'm proud of you, G. You know how many guys would kill to be in your shoes right now? Didn't you see the way she was looking at you in class?”

“I already know who you guys are talking about,” Dub-B said.

“You don't know shit,” Fresh said.

“I'm not blind. Katrina was looking mad nice in class today. I seen her giving J.D. the eye.”

“Y'all boys are wild,” I said nonchalantly. “I don't know what y'all talkin' 'bout.”

“I ain't gon' lie,” Stretch said. “She look like she got that touch-and-bust, man. For real! I hope you took some Viagra before you hit that.”

“You know a playa ain't never needed all that to keep thangs crackin',” I said, getting up from the table to go get my lunch. “I've been putting my hound hand down ever since I was ankle-high to a pigeon's thigh.”

“So you hit that, son?” Dub-B said excitedly.

I didn't answer.

“You da man, kid!” he continued. “I ain't even gonna lie. I didn't know you had it in you. Your game gotta be mad tight to crack a top-notch shorty like that.”

“It's about time,” Fresh said. “It's damn near Thanksgiving break and J.D. is just now getting his first piece.”

“Hey, I'm into quality, not quantity.”

“Oh, don't get it twisted,” Fresh said. “Katrina is fine as hell. She kinda looks like something I'd have on my team. I'm not hating. I'm congratulating. Shit…she got any friends? Put your boy on!”

“You're the last nigga I need to be putting on,” I said. “Ain't your girl coming down from the Chi for homecoming?”

“You know it.”

“You need to be worried about how you're gonna shake all the other breezies you got thinking they're wifey.”

“All my hoes know their place,” he said cockily. “Believe that. I only got room for one wifey, and that's Chantel. All of them know about her. That's what makes me so cool. I keep it real with them, so they can't ever say I'm leading them on. They already know what's up.”

“So you're telling me Alexis knows about your girl back home?” Dub-B asked.

“C'mon now, I'm more player than that,” Fresh said. “You know me. I don't chase 'em, I replace 'em.”

“So she does know about your girl back home?”

“Nah, but that's only because I ain't told her yet,” Fresh said. “Besides, she stays in the dorms over at Elman, so even when my girl comes down to visit, she will never find out.”

“Doesn't she kick it with a few girls who go here though?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Fresh said. “She has a cousin who stays right next to our dorm in Turner Hall, but I'm telling you, she will never know a thing.”

“Hold up,” Dub-B said. “What happened to
‘I tell all my hoes up front'?
”

“Like I said, I just ain't got around to it yet.”

“All that time y'all be spending together outside on the stoop, up in your room, and you ain't had the time to tell her?” I asked.

“Look,” he said defensively. “She knows what she needs to know for now. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I mean, damn! Y'all ain't got nothin' else to worry about?”

“Actually, I do,” I said. “I need to be looking over these cheat notes I got from Stretch, so I can get right for this biology midterm later. If a nigga don't pass this, it could be ugly for your boy.”

“You've got the answers,” Stretch said. “How hard can it be?”

Even though I had the answers to the test, I found myself going through the same pretest routine I'd performed since middle school—nervously nibbling my cuticles, looking around for someone to borrow a pencil from, and my trembling knees slightly rattling my desktop.

Timothy was sitting in the desk behind me, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were puffy, his hair was matted and he smelled like onions. I'd never seen him look so rough.

“Need a writing utensil?” Timothy asked, passing me a mechanical pencil. “I've got plenty.”

“Good lookin' out, blood,” I said. “What's wrong with you? Why are you looking so tired?”

“Long study session last night,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm prepared to ace this exam, though. I'm almost certain I've studied everything.”

Just as my palms were beginning to clam up, I felt a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It was Katrina.

“You'll do fine, baby,” she said, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Just take a few deep breaths, focus and remember the things we studied.”

I figured that was easy for her to say. She knew biology better than Ike's fist knew Tina's chin. Plus, her seat was toward the back of the class. Mine was right in the front. This wasn't the first test I'd cheated on, and I would've bet the thirty-eight dollars in my savings account it wouldn't be the last. But since it was my first time cheating in college, I figured I had to be extra cautious. As soon as Professor Obugata passed me my test and Scantron sheet and walked by my desk, I quickly looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then slid my answer sheet out of my pocket and underneath the test.

“Don't write anything until I tell you,” he said. “Everybody should start this exam at the same time. You have fifty minutes to complete this midterm exam. It's worth twenty-five percent of your grade.”

I felt a frog form in my throat. I was almost sure I could pass my other classes, but biology was the big question mark. Even though I'd dropped twenty dollars to secure a quarter of my grade, I still felt unsure about making the grade.

“Once you're finished with your exam,” Professor Obugata said as he backpedaled down my aisle, “bring it to me, and you can go—ooohh!” he screamed as he tripped over my backpack and fell toward the floor.

The guy in the seat next to me grabbed one of his arms, and Professor Obugata grabbed on to my shoulder, to prevent the fall. But the guy in the seat next to me lost his grasp, most of Professor Obugata's weight leaned on me and my desk tumbled over, as I tried to hold him up.

With his back on the floor and legs straight up in the air, he said, “How many times have I asked you all to keep your shoulder bags off the floor?”

Everybody in the class busted out laughing like they had front-row tickets to a Comic View. Some of them laughed so hard they cried. Meanwhile, I squirmed around, trying to untangle myself from Professor Obugata, so I could get to my cheat sheet before he did.

“Let me help you with your things,” he said, reaching for my Scantron and cheat sheet.

“I got it, Professor O,” I said, my forearms battling his for possession.

“No,” he said, scooting them away from me with his hand. “I insist. If it wasn't for you, I may have been seriously injured. I don't know how I will ever repay…”