The water starts to boil, and I dump the pasta in and set a ten minute timer.
It’s not that I fear intimacy. Ok, sure, it’s a little scary, but I do want to have that closeness with someone. I just don’t want my first time to be with some random guy in a dark dorm room. I want something special, as cliche as that is. I want the fireworks.
I picture Nate again and my breath catches. He would be special, I just know it.
Not that it will ever happen. I have a crush, but I’m never going to act on it. He’s way too old, and I don’t think he’s interested in anything serious.
I’ll go to medical school next year, and I’ll find someone there. Someone who is smart and mature.
I have not spoken with Nate a ton, but from the conversations we have shared, I know he’s intelligent. And it goes without saying, he’s way more mature than all the college guys I interact with on a daily basis.
I stir the past and frown into space. Maybe I’ll find someone who is just like him in med school. A guy with a bear and nice arms and a bright smile, but this hypothetical guy will be twenty years younger. And he’ll be totally understanding when I explain that I’m a virgin because I was studying too hard and maybe being a little too picky.
I glance out my window towards Nate’s house, and I feel a pang of regret in my stomach. I don’t like this hypothetical guy from the future as much as I like Nate. Maybe when he’s flesh and blood and right in front of me, I’ll be all about him. But for now, I just feel a little lonely. And when I was standing in the driveway, smiling up at Nate, I didn’t feel lonely at all.
The timer goes off, and I strain the pasta, then add some tomato sauce. I round off my meal with some spinach mixed with carrots and peppers.
I sit down and eat while the sun starts to set outside my window. I wonder what Nate’s doing in his house. It’s big, but he lives alone. He’s clearly put a lot of work into the house as well. He once mentioned that he was so good with fixing issues in my apartment because he spent so many years working on his house to make it the way he wanted.
I respect that about him. He has crafted the life he wants for himself. He owns his own house, and he has a good job, and he’s designed the life that suits him. I have the same goal. I want to be a doctor, and I spend every second working towards that objective and life.
I consider Nate’s situation. He’s set up his perfect life, and he’s still single, so that must be what he wants. If Nate wanted to be in a relationship, he would have one. I know he must have his pick of women. If a guy like Nate wants a girlfriend or a wife, he could get one with ease. I mean, look at me, I talk to him for thirty seconds, and I’m a giggling mess.
Since he doesn’t have a relationship, he must be committed to being single. He likes it that way. Which means my stupid crush is just that much more unrealistic.
I finish my meal and wash my dishes. Then I settle down at my desk and open my book. I’ve spent my entire college career prioritizing my studies over everything else. It’s silly to get distracted now.
I’m happy with my choices. So what that I’ve never had sex so I’m lusting after my older neighbor? I’m going to medical school. And I’m going to finish my final semester of college on a high note.
I flip through my notes and force myself to focus. The exam is tomorrow, and I’m determined to ace it.
I push aside all my little fantasies and musings about Nate and bury myself in the mechanics of the human lung.
Chapter Four
Nate
After a meal of grilled chicken and vegetables, I pour myself a glass of whiskey.
That’s another great thing about being a bachelor: I keep the alcohol I want on hand, and I can indulge whenever I want.
I settle into a chair and flip through the television, trying to find something to watch. Nothing holds my interest.
I keep thinking back to earlier, in that moment Cynthia smiled up at me. Something primal deep within me stirred. It was all I could to not take her right there in the driveway.
My life has settled into the routine I always wanted. I wake up when I like, and I work as long as I like, and my house is arranged exactly as I like it, and I travel when I wnat to, and when I feel like it, I fuck whatever women I like.
So why does it feel like something is missing? I flick my TV off and slouch further into my couch. I run my hand through my hair until it’s sticking on end and examine the golden liquid in my glass.
I haven’t been this attracted to a woman in a long time. I wonder if Cynthia has even the faintest clue what she does to me. There’s no way she feels the same attraction back. Sure, she might think I’m nice and decent-looking, but why would a girl that young even consider me a contender? I’m old enough to be her father.
And yet, I keep imagining what it would be like to hold Cynthia in my arms. To peel away the layers of her clothing and examine her complex combination of innocence and sensuality.
I sigh and take a gulp of my drink.
Being this deeply enthralled by a woman leads down a dangerous path. I know that better than anyone. When I was in my twenties, I met a woman with golden hair and
