First Time
First Time (for Everything)
I don't usually talk about these kinds of things--with good reason, mind you--but this was a bit different. Maybe it was the eggnog, which Alyssa had likely spiked to get back at the president for banning alcoholic beverages at club functions, or maybe it was the holiday spirit; I'll never know, but one thing's for certain: I talked (it would be about this time in my retelling that one of my friends would remind me just how much, which only lends further credence to the heavy hand of a certain puma and her love for liquor). But before I distract myself further, let's return to my tale.
My name is Owen Schrodinger (no relation to the cat... maybe), a young river otter attending the Lowenthall University in a lovely coastal town you've probably never heard of. Freshmen year in college was a new thing for me, like most others my age. That's about the end of the similarities. A lot of freshmen will tell you how exciting it is to meet new friends and to live in a dorm, which is all great fun unless it's the prospect of living so close to other people that has you scared shitless. We all have things to hide. Mine just so happened to be that I'm gay, so it's no great surprise that the first few weeks of school were a harrowing mess of long showers and B-side suspense reels over the phantoms that existed solely in my head. That's where the club came in. I ended up becoming a member of the local LGBA, a motley crew of assorted students similar to myself. While most might say it's a great way to find your 'second family' on campus, it's also quite the place to hook up.
I managed to learn this little factoid from a few of my 'accomplices' there. First and foremost was Alyssa, whom I've already mentioned, followed closely by Devin, ferret and long-time helper now in his senior year, as well as Alister, the quiet ringtail who is most likely blogging yet another erotic short story. I'll admit, I have strange friends. Now, most people would say 'that's great!' with a semi-sincere look on their face. I have nice friends, a club I'm part of, and a pretty decent life out here on campus, but there was still one thing missing. Backing up a bit, you'll remember I mentioned one of the perks of the LGBA here. Yup, that's the one. At nineteen years old, I was another hormone crazed face in the sea of bodies that veritably seethed across the quads.
This brings me to my actual story. I'm sitting with Alister in the living room of someone's house where we were throwing our Christmas party. He'd been stuck for a story for a few days and had asked me aside to bounce ideas off of. For an otter, I apparently make a pretty good wall.
"I was thinking of writing something about the start of a relationship," he murmured around a steaming cup of what reeked of spiced tea, probably chai, even through alcohol-dimmed senses. "you know, something different."
We were both seated on some ugly excuse for a sofa that looked like it had been dredged from a grandmother's yard sale. I nodded, turning my little holiday-decorated cup between slightly numbed pads as I watched the cream colored liquid inside slosh about. "What about someone meeting up at a party?"
The idea was quickly waved off. "I was thinking something a bit more... sensual. Something you can relate to."
I must have giggled through my reply or something because I remember one of his big, black ears twitching as he mouthed something back at me. "What about me?" I ultimately blurted out.
"How so?"
I immediately began to divulge a secret I had held close for quite some time, nearly a semester, to be exact. As the ringtail inched closer, pen at the ready, ears perked forwards as he hung on my every word, I began to recall my first true romance.
Terry was special. I'd first met him in one of my graphic design classes and I can be fairly certain that he added to the time I spent in the showers in the evenings. I had had a few crushes in my time, but none of them serious; this is perhaps why I remember the dhole in particular. Group activities were something of a mixed blessing, with the few times we were partners feeling weird if not downright anxious. I'd often probe him for information outside of class--the casual slip of whether or not he had a girlfriend or the like, if he was interested in getting lunch while discussing our project--but none of it ever seemed to go anywhere. I kept everything to myself, since the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself.
It wasn't until I received a text message one afternoon to meet him in the Commons that things began to come to a head. I made my way to the residential-side eatery, papers and note-books in paw, fully anticipating having a quick lunch as we plotted out just how we were going to finish our final project in time.
I was mostly right. With our meal spread between hasty print-outs of packaging designs, choice fonts, and color schemes, it seemed like any other time. Then he asked me.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
I paused then, looking up from a slice of greasy pizza. "Um no, why?"
"Well," he started, giving the nearby tables a quick glance. "would you like to be?"
I'm not sure how I missed this. To be honest, I almost thought I was going to be set up with another nice, if desperate, girl who was going through a hard time. "Sorta," I replied curtly, stuffing pepperoni and cheese alike as I rearranged swatches into what looked aesthetically pleasing.
"I was wondering if you'd... like to go out sometime." Terry said softly.
This is where I ended up chugging the better part of a can of soda after nearly choking. Like I said, I hadn't expected it. "Y-yes," I finally croaked, rubbing my neck with a paw. "I-I'd love to."
With that, he smiled, whispered something and collected his things before scribbling something onto one of my clean napkins before heading off. I remember just sitting there watching him, and a delightfully swishing tail, head out towards the lobby. It wouldn't be until that night when it hit me: I had a date.
The next morning I was in class, anxiously glancing down at the crumpled napkin in my hoodie pocket every few minutes. He sat demurely in the front row, idly observing the instructor as she prattled on about the benefits of kerning and all things typographical in how they related to good design. I, on the other hand, was not.
By the time class was dismissed, my notes were abysmally empty, though my mind was filled with quite a few thoughts, not the least of which was what this would entail. I must have fled from the room fast enough to leave skid marks.
We met out on one of the quads that overlooked the wooded side of campus, a place that Terry had once admitted he enjoyed walking. He smiled as he came up, his tail already wagging as he waved. I was immediately invited to the nicer eatery on campus, the Student Alumni Union, for what would amount to a 'nice dinner' by college terms.
It was a pleasant affair. We talked from our little table in the corner by the windows. It must have been the first time we ever really talked openly to each other, as our conversations went in every direction. I learned quite a few interesting things about the boy that afternoon, from his life back on the mainland to how he had gotten into graphic design. He was similar to myself, hidden amidst his school work in an attempt to remain anonymous, which must have been why neither of us ever connected the dots in the first place.
Dinner drawing to a close, we went back to his place. It felt natural at the time and was the wiser of the two decisions, as mine was most likely occupied by a gruff snow leopard who was peeved about the apparent lack of long weekends. I had no idea his roommate was actually out of town for the week until I had asked him later the next morning, which is probably for the better, as the temptation would have probably made it all less memorable in the end.
Idle chatter continued with a good dose of crappy, late-night programming until the wee hours of the morning. Being a Friday, I wasn't terribly bothered by staying up late--nor was Terry, it seemed. It must have been about 3am when the fire alarms went off. Everyone shuffled outside, wearing hastily donned coats and hats as they listened to the cacophonous din raised by the alarms throughout the building. The quad stood filled with bodies for nearly an hour, each of them shivering until the fire department gave the all clear and let everyone back inside. At this point, I bid Terry goodnight and asked him if he would be interested in doing anything again before returning to my own dorm.
I'm not really sure what happened then, but in my weary rush to get outside, I must have forgotten to grab my keys. It was not ten minutes later that I was knocking on the door to room KG3-201. A sleepy dhole answered it, wearing nothing more than a close-fitting pair of boxer shorts.
I explained the situation, all the while trying not to look like I was looking and asking if I could get my keys so I could return to my dorm. The powers that be seemed to have other plans.
"Why don't you just stay?" He asked, a blush evident on already ruddy-hued cheeks. "There's some spare blankets and stuff."
I accepted.
Alister put down his pen, content in my recollection of my exploits with Terry. A wan smile came to his muzzle, then, and he leaned back against the arm of the sofa, obviously pleased.
"What?" I asked, screwing up my eyes as I tried to focus on the crowd behind us in the other room.
My cup was replaced with something that looked and smelled suspiciously like water before he spoke. "You'll have to invite him over some time."