We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (7 page)

“Every guy thinks his dick is bigger than it is.” Selah looked up at the ceiling.

“Can we not talk about dicks around my sister?” Gabe changed the record to The Cure.

I’d completely forgotten about him. Had he ever met his sister and her lack of filter?

Quinn pointed out the obvious before I could. “Your sister is the one who brought it up. I think she’s well aware of dicks.”

“Gross.” Gabe made a sour face.

“Let’s change the subject before this gets all incestuous like
Flowers in the Attic
. Or
Blue Lagoon
,” Quinn said with all seriousness, except his blue eyes glimmered with provocation.

Gagging and retching sounds came from both Gabe and Selah.

“That’s my sign to call it a night.” He shoved himself off the futon and set his beer on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t go, dear brother,” Selah said half-heartedly. “This is what Quinn does. He provokes. He sees a line and then runs toward it with glee. It must be a Southern Californian thing.”

“It’s true. It’s something in the water. I think they put in extra glee with the chlorine and fluoride.” Quinn nodded happily, not taking Selah’s baited insult.

Gabe appeared unsure and unsettled as he said goodnight. After he’d gone, Selah curled up on the futon next to Lizzy.

“That’s your brother?” Lizzy asked the question that didn’t need asking.

“He’s a charmer, isn’t he? You wouldn’t believe how much less uptight he is now that he’s getting laid and not in high school.”

“I heard you! I’m not discussing my sex life with my sister!” Gabe called out from down the hall.

“No one wants to discuss your sex life! Trust me!” Selah shouted back at him.

We spent the next day wandering around Berkeley’s streets. Quinn wanted to photograph People’s Park. Selah hunted for the naked student wearing only his backpack and sneakers. Quinn offered to be Evergreen’s own version of naked student. We rejected him as quickly and strongly as possible. Gil shopped music at Rasputin’s. Lizzy and I bought long, flowy hippy skirts smelling of patchouli and lost dreams of peace, love, and understanding. I hoped the patchouli smell would come out in the laundry.

Selah never did find the naked guy, but she got us invites to two frat parties and a house party on the north side of campus after the concert. The girl had charms.

Gil and I seemed fine after his fake proposal last night. Quinn was right about getting together on this trip. Or any time. We were creating a posse of friends.

What if we got together and it didn’t work out? Or worse, he was a terrible kisser? Or even worse, was terrible in bed? Or worst of all, not interested?

It might be a far better world to be in if those questions went unanswered. I could still fantasize about him and he’d be the best possible kisser, and probably the best possible lover, without a doubt. Not knowing the truth meant our friendship could remain intact.

Of course everything might change. Maybe next year he wouldn’t room with Quinn. Or maybe they wouldn’t even be friends. Maybe we’d have new cliques. Then all bets would be off.

“What’s the name of the cat in the box Professor Roberts talked about in class last week?” I asked the group as we walked to the Greek Theater for the concert.

“Random question, Maggie.” Quinn stopped and stared at me.

Gil kept walking, but faced backward to answer me. “Schrödinger. Cat in the box. Alive or dead. Both are possible until you open the box.”

“That’s it! Schrödinger.” I matched my pace to his.

“Any reason why you’re asking about this?” Selah walked a few feet behind us.

“Just thinking how we’re only weeks into college and everything’s possible at this point. We could study anything, create our own majors, meet people, meet more people, make new friends . . .”

“Fall in love,” Lizzy added, walking next to me.

“Fall out of love,” Selah snarked.

“Have sex,” Quinn said. The rest of us laughed. “What? Isn’t that the point? Kiss girls. Kiss boys. Experiment?”

“It is the time to learn new things, expand our minds, and gain new experiences.” Gil smiled down at me. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing really. The whole world is at our feet.” I made the mistake of looking down. “Or at least a lot of gum and cigarette butts.”

“Is this where I quote the puckish optimism of the opening credits of
St. Elmo’s Fire
?” Quinn asked.

“Ugh, no. Too depressing,” Selah said.

“Even the soundtrack is sad.” Lizzy frowned.

“That’ll never be us. Please swear none of us will become those people.” I stared pleadingly at my friends.

“The eighties are over. Thank God. No more shoulder-pads.” Lizzy adjusted her jean jacket and patted her shoulders.

“It would seem the eighties aren’t over for everyone.” Quinn pointed at a couple of women ahead of us, their hair in full spiral perm and spiked bangs mode.

Or at least I assumed they were women. One turned and I caught a five o’clock shadow. And guyliner.

My eyes bugged out. Selah whistled.

Our laughter burst out of us, simultaneous and in sync.

“Hot,” she mouthed at me. “Hot pirates.”

Gil sat at the end of our row, on the other side of Quinn. Lizzy screamed her declaration of love for Mr. Ferry in my ear for the first two songs. Selah bummed a hit off of the guys next to her, and got invited to another party. One of them looked like he probably dressed up like Robert Smith and went to dance clubs. His friend tried to pass me the joint, but I waved him off. “I’m trying to quit.”

He gave me a raised eyebrow and a shoulder shrug.

Quinn leaned closer. “Have you ever smoked pot before?”

I shook my head no.

“Didn’t think so.” He slung his arm over my shoulder. “We’ll add it to your list of things to do at college.”

“I have a list?”

“You should. This is your chance to explore. Kiss boys. Kiss girls. Have lots of wild sex before your boobies droop.”

I instinctively covered my chest.

“Ha, ha. You have nothing to worry about. My dear roommate seems fascinated with them.” His arm tightened, pulling me into a one armed hug.

I wasn’t sure if I should apologize for my breasts or beam over them having an admirer.

When the opening notes of “More than This” started, I thought Lizzy would pass out from too much joy. We all knew the words and belted them out like old crooners, but mostly off key and pitchy. The exception was Gil. His deep, smooth voice did something funny to my skin, making it all tingly and warm.

Off limits, I reluctantly reminded myself.

Quinn was right.

Friendship before hormones.

Selah Elmore, 19

I’m majoring in men.

That’s not a major?

Fine.

Art history and aesthetics.

First year.

If you could change one thing about college so far, what would it be?

I’d skip to senior year. I’m tired of being too young. Sure, I can vote now, but I still can’t drink . . . legally. I can join the military, but most places won’t rent me a car. I can get birth control, get married, have kids, but I’m still a teenager. I’m bored of people reminding me how young I am. I know who I am and what I want.

“You Got It (The Right Stuff)” ~ New Kids on the Block

We returned from winter break and fell back into the same habits we’d established in the fall quarter. Maggie’s roommate, Jennifer, continued to pine over both Gil and her boyfriend at home. As a result, Maggie spent a lot of time in our room with Lizzy and me.

Thankfully, Gil hadn’t succumbed to the weekly brownie bribes left at his door. Instead, he saved them for movie night after having his friend in the chem lab test them for drugs and scan them for shards of metal. A guy couldn’t be too careful.

I liked Lizzy. She was the light to my dark, which didn’t even really make sense because we both had dark hair. Her optimism and enthusiasm could’ve been extremely annoying. She always hoped for the best and saw the good in people. At times, it was like living with Jeannie in her bottle. So much optimism. So much sunshine. I doubted she had a weird side.

At least until I discovered her secret.

I’d ditched lunch and found her in our room singing that right stuff song by New Kids on the Block at the top of her lungs. Not my taste, but I couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing one of their songs.