“Professor Robinson, hi.” Megan’s whiskey voice cut into our conversation. She stopped right next to us, and I gave her a quick look up and down. She was wearing a tight shirt that showed off her ample breasts to perfection and a pair of curve-hugging jeans. Her black hair was up in a high ponytail, and her green eyes seemed brighter than I remembered.
When she walked briefly in front of me, I glanced at her ass, and, catching me, she gave me a self-satisfied grin.
“Megan, I’m glad to see you. I was just talking to Neil about the Chicago internship,” he informed her before turning back to me. “Megan is the other program participant. She’s a star in the architectural program at Sarah Lawrence and worked as a research assistant for me last summer. All I need now is your answer,” he said, sounding excited. My mood shifted abruptly, and in an instant, I decided that it was going to be a hard no.
“Oh great! Don’t worry, professor. I’ll get Miller on board,” she said with an impish look on her face.
“There’s no way I’m going to Chicago with you,” I snapped, unconcerned with the professor’s presence.
“What’s the matter, Miller? Afraid to share an apartment with a girl?” Megan taunted, one corner of her mouth curving up into a sarcastic smile, which only infuriated me.
“I like women under me or on top of me, not just generally around. Especially when it’s some head case,” I said, giving her an insolent wink. Professor Robinson just stared awkwardly at us.
“Um, I don’t think this sort of personal information is relevant to the internship I was talking about.” He adjusted his glasses with his index finger and continued to watch us, looking bewildered.
“You’re right, Professor Robinson. Miller has a little trouble controlling his impulses; you’ll have to forgive him.” Megan smirked faintly, and I raised an eyebrow, staring hard at her.
“I’d advise the two of you to work out your differences because, should Neil also accept my offer, you will be spending a lot of time together. I would highly recommend you figure this out because your futures are at stake,” the professor said, smiling. Then, after saying his goodbyes and recommending yet again that I think about the Chicagooffer, he headed off for an upcoming appointment and left the two of us alone.
Immediately, I grabbed Megan by the arm and dragged her somewhere quieter before she had the chance to vanish on me.
“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” I demanded, inches from her face. But she didn’t flinch and just stared levelly back at me.
“I just like to screw with you,” she explained.
“Is that so?” I sneered at her. “Well, learn to address me respectfully from now on,” I ordered, scowling at her. Unlike Megan, who was looking at me with a barely concealed smile, I was not joking.
“I don’t like men who get overbearing with me,” she answered.
“I don’t like women who keep making the same mistakes over and over,” I warned her. Her eyes, with their slim bronze streaks, dug insistently into mine. I released her because I couldn’t stand the way she looked at me, the confidence she showed off, and most of all, the way she didn’t fear me at all.
It occurred to me that I’d met so many women in my life, and all of them had expressed some degree of fear about me. All of them except Megan.
“You should actually think about the Chicago internship, Miller, and don’t drag your feet.” She stepped back.
“I’ll never share an apartment with you. I can’t stand you,” I said, looking at her full lips. Specifically, I looked at the dark mole that punctuated her Cupid’s bow and gave her a little extra sensual charm. I moved my gaze upward to her eyes.
All at once, I remembered one of the first times I met her.
She was a shy little girl then with the weird habit of always wearing this white ribbon in her long black hair.
I had liked the contrast…
We sat in the garden outside my house in the shade of a tree that protected us from the sun’s burning rays. She was wearing a knee-length, dusty pink dress with a scoop neck and a pink ribbon around the waist. It made her look like one of those pretty porcelain dolls my mother liked to collect.
Kimberly had brought Megan to me, like she’d been doing for several afternoons at that point, because she wanted to prepare us for a game we were going to play soon. She said we were going to be the stars of a movie. I was going toplay Peter Pan, and Megan would be Wendy. She also said we were going to wear costumes, but something in her eyes didn’t feel right when she talked about it.
“So, hello ishola?” I asked, wrinkling my forehead in concentration. I didn’t know any Spanish. At my age, I was doing well to speak my own language.
“Yes,hola.” Megan pushed a strand of hair away from her face, her full, defined lips curving upward.
“And little girl? How would you say that?” I asked curiously, tucking my knees up to my chest and holding them in my skinny arms.
“Niña,” she answered, avoiding my gaze but giving me a gentle smile.
“So you’re a…niña?” I cocked my head skeptically and ran a hand over the back of my head. I wasn’t good with languages or with memorizing stuff.
“Neen-ya,” she explained, sounding amused. Her laughter was youthful and innocent, but it stopped and was immediately replaced with a pained look.
