A Night to Forget (2 page)

But when I actually spoke to her for the first time, I instantly loved her. She was genuine, bubbly, and thoughtful, which made it difficult for anyone to resent her for very long. We’ve been best friends and inseparable ever since then.

It was going to be weird not seeing her on a regular basis after graduation. Out the four of us, Jill was the only one that was staying in L.A. after graduation. She was going to be an accountant at PricewaterhouseCoopers. Our friend Steph was attending law school in the fall at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, and Gloria was moving to Paris after graduation to be an assistant art curator for a prominent art gallery there. And as for me, I was moving to San Francisco right after graduation. I was going to be a marketing associate at Fisher & Morrison Consulting, one of the top consulting firms in the country. I was beyond excited for this great opportunity, and of course, incredibly freaked out at the same time. I knew that I’d worked hard in school and deserved this job, but part of me felt inadequate—what if there had been a mix-up and they had never intended to hire me?

“So, what are you making today,” Jill asked with delight, changing the subject and pulling me out of my thoughts. She loved it when I decided to bake.

“I’m just finishing up these chocolate brownies for the Student Body Bake Sale tomorrow,” I said as I quickly put on the oven mitts and pulled a fourth batch out of the oven.
Two more batches to go, and then there should be more than enough for the bake sale,
I thought.

“
Oooh, can I have one, Emma?” Before I could say yes, Jill reached for a cooled brownie. I laughed at her excitement.

“These are amazing!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure Mike will appreciate all your help with his Student Body stuff. He may be the big, hotshot president of UCLA’s Student Body, but he’s nothing without you and your help. You’re the best girlfriend a guy can have.”

“Right, thanks,” I said, feeling a tinge of guilt wash through me.

To be the best girlfriend, you shouldn’t be having sex dreams about a man that’s not your boyfriend. And you probably shouldn’t wish that mystery man was real and doing unspeakable things to your body. And you certainly shouldn’t have those desires when you haven’t even done those things with your boyfriend!
I thought to myself.

I haven’t told the girls about the dreams I’ve been having almost every night for the past few months—not even Jill. It was that same dream every night, with that same mystery man, on that same beach. I felt guilty just thinking about him again.
Plus, the thought of this man made it difficult to think about pretty much anything else, and the memory of his touch made me hot and weak all over.

“So why are you baking so many brownies?” Jill asked, bringing me out of my reverie. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would never complain about you baking,” she continued as she reached for another brownie, “but aren’t there a lot of people bringing baked goods for this sale? Four pans of brownies seem to be a lot from one person.”

“Actually, I’m making six trays of these,” I said quickly, feeling slightly defensive. “I know I’m making a little more than normal, but this is a big bake sale and they’re trying to raise a lot of money. I just want to be supportive,” I said, trying to convince her, and myself.

“You really are the best, Emma. Well, I have to finish my history paper tonight, so I better get back to work. Thanks for the brownies,” Jill said gleefully as she grabbed a third one to go. “And thanks for subtly calling me out on being a Cancun-spring-break-planning-Nazi. I know I can be slightly obsessive when I get into my planning mode,” Jill said as she laughed at herself.

“I know, and we love you for it. But trust me, we will have an unforgettable time in Cancun, and I know you’ll do a great job planning it, like you always do.”

After Jill left the kitchen, I was lost in my thoughts.

Why did you bake so many of these for Mike’s bake sale?
I knew Mike wasn’t expecting me to bake this many. In fact, I was only planning on baking one batch, not six.

Okay, yes, it’s true that I loved to bake and I found it really relaxing. But, maybe I went a little overboard with six batches.
Jeez, Emma, you’re only baking for a bake sale, not trying to feed a small village in Africa. What were you thinking?

Then a thought came to me. Was I trying to compensate for my feelings of guilt? I know that I’ve been feeling guilty lately with these dreams. Yes, I couldn’t control my dreams, but the fact that I don’t want these dreams to end was the source of my guilt. Sometimes I caught myself making an excuse to go to bed early, just for the possibility of seeing him again, touching him again, kissing him again. My skin prickled at my memories of him.

Don’t get me wrong, I really cared about Mike. We had been together for about a year now, and we got along pretty well. One thing I really appreciated about him was how understanding he was that I wanted to wait to have sex. Most men I have dated dumped me pretty soon after they realized that they’d have to wait awhile before I would even consider having sex with them. They didn’t care that I had my reasons. In fact, even after I told them about what happened to me that night during my freshman year—the night that changed my life forever—they still broke up with me when they realized that I wanted to wait.

But Mike seemed to be different. Even though he wasn’t a virgin, he respected the fact that I was. He seemed okay with the fact that I wanted to take things slow. He once told me that he wanted to be my first and was willing to wait until I was ready. And for the past year, he waited patiently, but for some reason I couldn’t explain, I still hadn’t felt ready to have sex with him.

I knew I wasn’t a prude. I’ve done everything up to sex. But I’ve always wanted my first time to be special, and with someone special, and as much as I cared about Mike, it never felt right to me—he never felt right to me. I knew it was silly to compare, but I’ve never felt that unquenchable need for Mike that I felt in my dreams for the mystery man. In fact, even in my waking hours, I yearned for this mystery man that only existed in my dreams.

People described the feelings they had for the one they loved—that electricity they felt when their bodies touched. I haven’t felt that yet with anyone, and I wanted to feel that with the man I would give my virginity to. Maybe I was being naïve to think that kind of love could be real, but I was not ready to give up the hope that it could be a reality for me.

Chap
ter 2

After several weeks of shopping and of desperately searching for some decent-fitting swimsuits—which, by the way, was near impossible—Cancun was just a day away. I was giddy with anticipation at the thought of the fun-filled week Jill had planned for us. It took me over two hours to pack, but I finally managed to pull the zipper around my suitcase, which was now stuffed to the brim.

I heard the doorbell sound from the living room. That must be Mike. We were going to have dinner and hang out before we both left for spring break tomorrow.

“Hi babe,” Mike said when I opened my apartment door to let him inside. He was wearing my favorite worn-down grey t-shirt and dark-washed jeans, and he looked handsome this evening.
It looks like he just shaved before he got here
, I thought to myself.

He leaned in for a hug and I inhaled deeply the familiar smell of his cologne as I buried my face into his embrace.
He only wore his cologne on special occasions
. “You smell nice. Are we wearing cologne tonight?” I teased as I leaned up towards him to give him a kiss before leading him inside.

“Well, considering we won’t be seeing each other for all of next week, I wanted tonight to be special.” There was slight rawness in his voice, and I felt a tinge of guilt. “I know, I’ll really miss you, but we’ll talk on the phone daily. Promise.”

“Are you all packed for Vegas?” I asked, trying to derail the conversation.

“Not yet, my flight isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pack in the morning.”

“Mike, you are such a procrastinator,” I laughed as I playfully slapped him on his shoulder. “You always leave things to the last minute.”

“Hey, what can I say? I work well under pressure,” he said playfully.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply. I let out a deep sigh of content. Mike made me feel comfortable and safe, and I never felt pressured to do anything I didn’t want to do.

“I love you so much, Emma,” Mike whispered softly into my ears, his warm breath on my ears sent chills down my back. I looked up at him, “I love you too, Mike. And I really
will
miss you when I’m in Cancun. I promise to send you lots of pictures of the beach, the sunset, and Chichen Itza.”

“
Chichen Itza?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, remember? I mentioned it to you before. It’s one of the places the girls and I are visiting next week. It’s one of the largest pre-Columbian Mayan city ruins,” I said.

“Oh yeah, right, you did mention something about that,” he said with a hint of disinterest in his voice. I felt a shot of annoyance in his response.
He never seems interested in anything beyond what’s going on immediately around him.

“So where did you want to order dinner from?” I asked, trying hard to brush off my irritation.

“I was thinking maybe some Chinese take-out. What about you?”

“Chinese food sounds great. Do you know what you want to get? I have a few menus here somewhere,” I said as I sifted through the kitchen drawer dedicated to take-out menus, random condiment packets, and other random odds and ends.

“Yeah, some Kung Pao Chicken would hit the spot. Want to share?” he asked.

“Mike, you know I have a peanut allergy. There’s peanuts in Kung
Pao Chicken,” I said, my irritation starting to return.

“Oh right. Sorry about that. What about Chicken Cashew?” he asked as he looked through the menu.

“My peanut allergy includes cashews, remember?”
What was wrong with him tonight? Has he always been so insensitive?
I thought.

“Oh, right. Hmm. Do you want to just order for us then? I don’t really care,” he said as he handed me the menu.

“Is something wrong, Mike?” I asked, irritated by how he was behaving.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m not too hungry,” he said with no further explanation.

“Okay, well let me call in an order for a few things. We may get hungry later,” I said.

After I called in the order, I went into the living room and sat down next to Mike. “So do you want to watch a movie or something?” I asked.

“Hey, so my bros want to hit up a strip club one of the nights next week,” he said abruptly in response. “Would you be okay with that?”

I was caught by surprise and wasn’t sure what to say.

“Yeah, well, umm. Sure, I guess that’s okay,” I responded, not quite sure where this conversation is going.

“Thanks, babe. I knew you’d understand,” he said as he leaned over to kiss me. As he slowly anchored his body over me, his kisses grew more hungry and his hands moved with a purpose. “I love you so much, Emma.” His voice was shaky and rushed.

“Mike, is something wrong?” I asked, confused by where this was all coming from.

Instead of responding, Mike positioned me under him and pressed himself harder against me as his lips eagerly explored my neck.

“Mike?” I asked, with an edge of urgency in my voice.

He wasn’t listening. His hand was behind my back unhooking my bra as his other hand and hungry mouth were moving towards my exposed breasts.

“Mike, what are you doing? We’re in the living room, and Jill’s in her room,” I hissed at him, the annoyance I felt was rising.
What’s gotten into him?

“Right, right, let’s go to your room,” he said hastily, getting up and moving us towards my room as he continued to kiss and knead my breasts.

“Mike, but the delivery guy will probably be here soon,” I protested, trying to halt our movement. He ignored me and urged me further towards my room.

“Mike! Stop it, what are you doing?” I said, my voice louder and with more conviction as I pushed him away from me. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

Mike finally stopped at my words. “What’s wrong with me?” he demanded, “What’s wrong with me?” he repeated as anger invaded his voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Emma?” he yelled, his face red and contorted. “What the fuck is wrong with us?”

I stood there in bewilderment and couldn’t respond. I noticed that I was holding my breath, too stunned to even exhale. I’ve never seen Mike act like this towards me.

“I … Mike, what are you talking about?” I finally said softly, unsure of how he’d react.

“Emma, I don’t think I can take it anymore. We’re both 22 years old! We love each other, or at least I think you love me,” he paused slightly, looking for an acknowledgment from me.

I couldn’t speak and just stared at him.

“And we care about each other, and we’ve been together for over a year now,” he continued. “So why are we not having sex? We
should
be having sex! We should be having lots of sex!”

“Mike, I’m sorry. I thought you were okay with taking it slow. It just doesn’t feel right yet, but … but I do really care about you,” I said meekly.