While We Were Apart: Senior Year 2

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Morgan gave me a lingering kiss before sauntering away across the grassy quad, her ponytail bouncing, heading for the gym. I couldn’t take my eyes off her body, encased in a skin tight pair of gym leggings and a racer back top that showed off her midriff.

“You are so fucking lucky, man.” Beside me, my buddy Dan was just as mesmerized. “Love the belly ring.”

“Since when were you keeping tabs on Morgan’s piercings?”

“Oooh, she have more?”

“No, just… fuck you.”

Dan chuckled. “Your girl’s hot. I notice things about hot chicks. Like, for example, that ass. In fact, how have I never noticed how incredible it looked before?”

I said, “You were too busy looking at all the other sluts you’re banging?”

Dan shrugged. We’d been friends since Freshman year, when we lived on the same hall.

Morgan disappeared around a building, and he glanced back at me, grinning. “It’s college, man. Just making the most of it. So you two are back together, just like that?”

“Just like that,” I said.

“Like I said, you’re so fucking lucky. She could have met some guy over there in that program with a bigger dick, and then it would have been all over.”

“Morgan’s not like that.”

Dan shook his head. “All chicks are like that, man. Trust me, as a guy with an abnormally large dick, I know.”

“Go fuck yourself, Dan.”

He chuckled at me. “I’d rather fuck your girlfriend.”

This was our way. The banter was normally harmless, but I’d already been struggling with jealousy and emotional insecurity. This shit wasn’t helping.

“I assume you didn’t tell her about Molly?” he asked.

“We were never serious. And I haven’t seen her in, like, months.” I heard the defensiveness even as it emerged from my mouth.

Dan seemed to get a kick out of that. “I take it that’s a ‘no’. Eh, she probably wasn’t totally innocent over there, either.”

It was one thing to speculate in my head. To hear it uttered aloud, however, made me feel ill. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, come on, Nate. Don’t be a fuckin’ hypocrite. If you can sleep around while Morgan’s a million miles away and you two are on ‘pause’, or whatever, she can, too. No judgment on either of you, and frankly, it’s a good thing. You two work great for each other, so maybe the year apart got all your craziness out.”

“Thanks?” I rose and stretched, checking my watch like I had some place to be. “You’re a really special friend, you know that, Dan?”

He grinned. “I do, in fact, know I’m very special.”

***

I should have talked to Morgan about all of this. In hindsight, that’s the healthiest thing to have done. But I was a 20-year-old college idiot surrounded by other 20-year-old college idiots. So instead, I bottled up all of my insecurities and let them fester inside of me.

After my chat with Dan, I should have gone to class. It’s what Morgan, a hard-working student, would have done. On my walk across campus, though, all I could think about was my girlfriend in all her spandex being ogled by guys at the gym, so instead of my plan to head to class, I swung by my place, grabbed my gym bag, and decided to do some recon.

The campus gym was a state-of-the-art affair, built recently on funds generated by our sports program. I spent a lot of hours here, lifting and running and keeping in shape, and knew the place pretty well. 

Morgan would be up in the cardio area, where she spent most of the time running and biking, but I still made my careful way through the gym. She knew my schedule and would definitely wonder why I wasn’t in class.

I nodded at a few of the guys that I knew there, but didn’t stop to chit chat. Walking with determination, I hit the locker rooms to change and then made my careful way up to the cardio machines. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find—I trusted her, of course, and yet here I was, on a spy mission.

Morgan wasn’t on any of the treadmills or ellipticals. She wasn’t on any of the bikes. She wasn’t anywhere in the cardio room. I went from furtively scouting along the edges of the room to boldly walking through. Got a few looks as I did, but Morgan was definitely not there.

I checked the weight machines, where she also did some reps. She wasn’t there, either. “Hey, you seen Morgan?” I asked a buddy of mine at last, trying my hardest not to sound like a paranoid boyfriend.

“She’s back? Nice! I’ll let her know you’re looking for her if I see her—”

“No, it’s cool. I just wanted to, um, say hi.” I winced. “Not a big deal. See ya around.”

I turned away, my face burning, my guts twisting into knots. It was like someone had taken a baseball bat to my head. Everything rang and swam and I just couldn’t deal with it. I walked out of there without changing or grabbing my stuff from the locker room, and only realized I’d left it all behind when I got back to my apartment building and realized I didn’t have my keys or phone or anything.

“Fuck,” I groaned. My walk back to the gym was less clouded. I let myself cool off. I probably just missed her. She definitely wasn’t at some guy’s place, her legs spread wide as he drilled her. “Don’t go there.”

The more I thought about it, though, the faster I walked and the more convinced that she was cheating on me. It was totally irrational, and yet by the time I arrived back at the gym, I was as pressurized as an over-pumped keg.

Back at the gym, I did one last sweep of the various rooms—not even bothering to be sneaky anymore. She hadn’t shown up, which wasn’t comforting. I hit the locker room, grabbed my bag, and headed back out…

…when I spotted her. Talking with some guy.

The gut punch felt so real that for a second I thought I’d run into something. I stopped, and someone did run into me. “Watch it, asshole,” that someone muttered as they passed by. It barely registered.

Morgan was sitting on the top of one of the picnic benches outside of the gym, and this guy was standing next to her. They were sipping bottles of Gatorade and laughing, and it flipped my whole world upside down.

The guy was exactly the type of guy that I didn’t want talking to my girlfriend. Clean cut and good looking, the dark-haired guy had the confidence and tone to wear a tanktop and a pair of gym shorts without feeling self-conscious. I didn’t recognize him, but that was no surprise. The school population was huge. Whoever he was, Morgan seemed to enjoy his company, which made it so much worse for me.

Now, I’m not some knuckle-dragging, chest-thumping thug. I didn’t walk up to them and headbutt him or anything—although I had a few vivid fantasies of doing just that. But I did approach.

Morgan saw me first. I watched for a reaction very closely—watched for guilt or nervousness, Did she flinch? Did she look quickly at Mr. Tanktop? 

I didn’t see any of that. If anything, she had the nerve to look happy to see me. “Oh, hey, Nathan!” And then, processing my presence, added, “Thought you had class?”

“It was just a review,” I mumbled. “Who’s this?”

Smooth, I thought. Not paranoid there at all, buddy.

“Oh, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is Nathan.”

There was definitely a sizing up that happened when he heard my name. I saw it in the way he looked me over, as if thinking, So this is the boyfriend. “Nice to meet you, Nathan.”

His handshake also spoke volumes, overgripped and over-firm.

Or maybe that was me doing the overgripping.

“Hey, Jeremy. Sorry to interrupt…”

“Oh, hey, no worries at all,” Jeremy said. “We were just catching up on England.”

“Jeremy was in the same study abroad program,” Morgan explained.

“Ah.”

“Morgan talked a lot about you,” Jeremy said. “Good to finally put a face to a name.”

Oh, she did? I glanced at Morgan, who was beaming at me. I was suddenly very confused by it all. “Cool,” I said, hoping that saying it would make me feel it. “Anyway, I’m going to go…” I jerked my thumb towards the gym, like I was just headed there now.

“Right. And I better get home,” Jeremy said. “Need to shower before class. It was good catching up, Morgan. Hope to see you Saturday.”

I waited until he was gone before looking at Morgan. “Saturday?”

“Oh, he’s having a few people over from the program. Like a mini reunion. Want to go?”

No. “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Sweet.” She gave me a hug, squeezing my biceps. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Me likey.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll even have the confidence to pull off a tank top.”

“Oh, please.” Now her laugh was definitely on the hysterical end. “You have nothing to be jealous of.”

“I know.”

But did I?

Chapter 3

I always hated the kind of guys who felt like they had some kind of ownership of their girlfriends. They’d drape their arm around her when introducing themselves as if to say, ‘This one’s mine.’ They got jealous for no reason, and angry at her when she talked to some other male.

No, I was the cool boyfriend, the chill boyfriend. She had friends who were guys, that’s great. I believed in platonic relationships. Morgan wanted to go study abroad for a year? That’s great! No problem. We’ll work it out.

Yet now, after Tank Top Jeremy, I was feeling all those Neanderthal man things. I wanted to get my club. I wanted to remind him that she… was… mine.

“Oh, fuck me!”

I wanted to remind Morgan as well.

“You feel so… you feel so… good!“

I had her legs over my shoulders, our fingers entwined above her head as I rolled my hips into her. This wasn’t just rabbit fucking. This wasn’t just me pounding away. I’d picked up a few tricks of my own and was determined to show off.

“Oh, Nathan, Baby, you feel so… oh!”

My roommate was out at a party, and Morgan and I decided to stay in and watch some TV. It was like old times, before she left—even before we officially got together. Only this time I could lean over and kiss her. Kissing led to hands roaming to clothes coming off. 

I went down on her, worshiping the body I’d missed for so long. I kissed and licked her smooth thighs. I traced the edges of her thong, teasing both of us before pulling the flimsy material to the side and feasting on her bare gash. That was never going to get old, seeing her smooth shaven mound. It was a reminder of our lost year, and a motivator not to lose her.

We moved to the bedroom after I made her scream loud enough that our neighbors definitely heard. I didn’t care. Let them hear and be envious.

“Yes, Nate! Fuck me!” Her voice cracked, a whispered-shout that I would never grow tired of. It was all the motivation I would ever need.

“I love you, Morgan.” I squeezed her hand as I sank balls deep into her. 

“God, I love you too, baby.”

When I opened my eyes, she was staring right back up at me, her lashes long, her dark irises hypnotic. Her pussy rippled around my cock as she squeezed me. I’d never felt something like that before.

“I missed this,” she said. “I missed you.”

It should have been reassuring. Those should have been exactly the right words to ease an agitated ego. But at the time, all I heard was, “All the guys I fucked in London made me forget all about you!”

So I folded her legs until they were up around her ears and fucked her in a way that she wouldn’t ever forget.

My abs screamed. My arms burned. I pushed. I didn’t stop. Morgan didn’t want me to stop. She begged me to keep fucking. She gnashed her teeth and rolled from one thrilling orgasm to the next. 

“Baby,” she gasped. “Are you close? I need you. I… need that come.”

I groaned.

“Give me your come!”

My balls tightened.

“Fuck your come into me!”

That was so unlike Morgan. That must have been learned elsewhere.

But holy hell, was it hot. I obeyed, slamming my hips forward and fucking all my come deep inside of her. She writhed beneath me as she came, again, our slick bodies slapping and sliding.

Morgan sighed when I finally released her legs. I flopped beside her, watching her stare at the ceiling with a big, goofy grin. “That was…” She turned to me and finished, “amazing.”

“I missed you, too,” I said lamely.

She giggled. “Well, hold on to that angst, stud. A girl could get used to that.”

If she only knew.

***

I’d forgotten all about Tank Top Jeremy’s party until Morgan reminded me Saturday afternoon. Or maybe it was more like I was actively pretending it wasn’t going to happen on the off-chance that she’d forget.

“I was thinking we could get dinner up near the Crossing,” Morgan suggested. ”Jeremy’s place isn’t far from there. We could walk over after.”

“Right, the party.” And she knew where Jeremy’s house was? Definitely an irrational thought—of course she had to know if she was invited—but disconcerting anyway. “Yeah, that seems like a good plan. Like a date.”

She beamed at me. “A date. Love it.”

“That mean you’ll wear a slinky dress for me?”

“I think I could manage something…”

And that’s how we ended up at a party of strangers with Morgan wearing the kind of little, black dress that she almost never wears. I was loving it while we were in the restaurant. Less so as we walked up to Jeremy’s house, the party already in full swing.

I didn’t recognize anyone. Seemed that Jeremy, and the small contingent from our school who’d studied abroad, traveled in different social circles than I did. Many recognized Morgan, though, and it was so hard to resist being that guy who puts his arm around her as I walked up.

Because I wasn’t that guy.

“Cute dress, Mo,” said a bleached blonde with a smoky voice. She wore a powder blue dress even tighter and shorter than Morgan’s, showing off a fit, curvy body and a pair of tits that drew my eyes.

Thankfully, Morgan didn’t seem to notice my stare. She beamed at the blonde. “Thanks! Love yours, too.”

“Let’s catch up later,” the other woman said as we entered the house.

“Mo?” I asked when we were out of earshot.

“Oh, that’s Cassidy,” she answered, as if that were explanation enough for the nickname. I let it go. I was determined to let all of this go. I was the cool boyfriend.

We were enveloped into the house party. Morgan waved hi to seemingly everyone, sometimes introducing me, sometimes not, but always as “this is Nathan,” not “this is my boyfriend Nathan.” Not that she had to do that. Not that I was so fragile that I needed that. 

Beer helped convince me that the above was true. At first, anyway, and then, as alcohol goes, it started to convince me otherwise—why didn’t she introduce me as her boyfriend? Was she embarrassed? Did she want to keep her options open?

We found Jeremy on the back deck, next to the keg, chatting with a small group of people. He’d exchanged his tank top for a plain, black t-shirt that still managed to show off his arms and broad shoulders.

“Morgan! You made it!” he greeted, spotting my girlfriend. His eyes skipped over her body, albeit briefly, checking her out before turning the charm on. “And Nathan. Good to see you again, buddy.”

Again, the hard handshake. Again, my probably misplaced dislike for this man. “Hey, Jeremy.” I looked around. Some people were playing beer pong in the backyard. The deck alone was packed with people. “Quite the gathering.”

“You know how it goes. One guy invites some friends, who invite other friends. I probably know, like, half the people here.” He spotted someone else and nodded a greeting. To me, it appeared that he knew everyone.

At some point, I got separated from Morgan. I went inside to use the restroom, and when I came out, she wasn’t on the back deck any longer. The paranoia was real, but I wasn’t going to be the clingy boyfriend. I was going to give her space and be cool about it.

I pumped myself some more beer and pretended that everything was cool, even as I freaked out inside.

“I think you may have over-pumped there,” someone said, pointing at my Solo cup of foam. “Here, let me…”

A cute blonde with nerd-girl glasses took over the keg pump as I dumped the contents over the side of the deck. “Ah, thanks.”

As she pumped, despite her innocent look, my mind went straight to a handjob. The girl’s smile broadened, like she knew what I was thinking. I needed to refocus. “So what’s your connection here?”

“Oh, I know Jeremy. We did this study abroad thing. You?”

“I came with Morgan. She’s my girlfriend.” That felt desperate and awkward. “I’m Nathan.”

“Oh, so you’re Morgan’s boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like there was something loaded in that statement, although she didn’t seem like the judgmental type.

“Yeah, although we sort of took a break last year.” I felt like I was just digging my hole deeper and couldn’t figure out how to stop. “For obvious reasons.”

“Right.” She took my cup from me and filled it, managing the foam better than I had. “I’m Reagan.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before adding, somewhat embarrassed, “Yes, after the president.”

“Nice to meet you, Reagan.” I took the cup of beer, and she began refilling her own. “So you knew Morgan? In London?”

“Sort of. She hung out with a different crowd.”

“Got it.” My blood pressure rose. My palms grew clammy. I knew what I wanted to ask and the beer—that was already half empty and definitely not my first—tore my inhibitions away. “So what kind of crowd?”

Reagan’s smile put me more off-balance. “Checking up on your girl?”

“What? No, I…” I scratched the back of my neck, surprised that it wasn’t actually on fire. “Fine, yes. I’m curious.”

“Heh. I don’t blame you. I’d be curious too if I had a girlfriend who looked like her and had spent the last year away.” We drifted away from the keg and back into the house. “So before I get into that, were you really on a break?”

There was a lot to unpack in that question, but I was too amped up to unpack any of it. “Yeah. I know she saw a guy or two.”

Conceptually, thinking that was one thing. Saying it to another person was much heavier.

Reagan didn’t immediately correct me. In fact, her introspective nod was like being pushed off the side of a building. Flailing, stomach heaving, I said, “I just am curious if she, like, dated a bunch of guys or… you know…”

Reagen seemed to see more in me than I wanted to share. “No, nothing like that. Don’t worry, your girlfriend didn’t turn into some raging slut out there.”

“But there were guys?”

She hesitated before answering, and the hesitation dropped like a sack of rocks in my stomach. “I don't know. Like I said, different circles. She knew a bunch of the Europeans, and they went out a lot. When we were in class, Morgan was always heads down.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” I said.

“Honestly, it was hot. Beauty and brains. I have kind of a girl-crush on your girlfriend.”

Another young woman interrupted us. “Is Reggie going on about Morgan again?”

“Beth, this is Nathan, Morgan’s boyfriend.” Reagan elbowed her friend, Beth, who was tall, lean, and alluring. She had a bob of dark hair that just reached her chin, large, blue eyes, and a crooked smile that made it seem like she got a kick out of everything around her.

“And I’m Beth, Reagan’s girlfriend,” Beth said. She did the thing that I’d resisted so much with Morgan—she put her arm possessively around the much more petite blonde. “I kind of wish those two did hook up. Would have gotten it out of Reagan’s system.” Beth looked at me. “He knows what I mean.”

“Beth…” Reagan warned.

“Have you seen Morgan?” I asked.

“Nope,” Beth said. When she stared at me, I felt naked. “Maybe check Jeremy’s bedroom?”

My chest tightened up. Bile caught in the back of my throat. “Beth!” Reagan objected. “Not cool.”

Beth shrugged. “I saw them head that way. Don’t shoot the messenger.” She looked right at me. “Better hurry.”

Reagan hooked her arm into her girlfriend’s. “You’ve had too much to drink. Come on, let’s go home.” To me, with more sincerity than her girlfriend, she said, “I’m sorry. Ignore her, she just gets jealous.”

Over her shoulder, Beth added, “And horny! I always get so horny when I’m jealous.” With a wink to me, she let herself be guided away.

I refilled my beer before deciding to ascend the stairs. I wore my fatalism like a lead jacket. Each step felt like a workout, and the stairs seemed to stretch on into infinity. “Hey, which one’s Jeremy’s?” I asked a couple flirting at the top of the stairs.

The guy shrugged, annoyed, but the girl pointed to the door at the end of the hall—the closed door. I nearly vomited. Instead, I floated to it, my senses dulled, my heart in my throat. I heard a giggle through the door, followed by a man’s laugh. My face burned. I didn’t knock, but I sure as hell hesitated outside of that door.

I almost left. I almost went home. This was the end of it. It was one thing to fuck around when she’s a million miles away. Entirely a different thing to do it while we were at the same fucking party!

The lance of anger gave me all the courage I needed. I opened the door, swinging it open so hard that it crashed against a dresser, rattling some drinks. The people inside jumped. “The fuck!?” Jeremy shouted, jumping to his feet.

He wasn’t naked. His dick didn’t swing out, wet from fucking my girlfriend. The scene before me caught me off-guard.

Morgan was there. So was that blonde, Cassidy, and a couple other people that I didn’t know. They were all seated on the floor, a hookah in between them, putting out some sweet smell.

“Close the door, man!” someone said.

Morgan looked up at me, her eyes dilated. She smiled warmly and held out her hand. “There you are, Nathan. Come on, join us.”

Jeremy looked a little less pleased with my arrival, but didn’t say anything. I also wasn’t in the mood for this. Any of it. I looked around at the bunch like I’d walked in on some cult, and shook my head at Morgan. “I’m ready to go.”

“You sure?” Jeremy said. “This is some good hash.”

I never looked away from Morgan, doing everything I could to communicate that I really, really didn't want to stay. “I’m good.”

She got it. Rising, she didn’t offer me drugs again. She pressed herself close and said huskily, “Take me home, Nathan.”

I didn’t look back into the room. I didn’t look back the whole way out of the house. I was an adventurer escaping the crumbling temple. I had my prize. I had my treasure.

I had completely forgotten that I wasn’t the kind of guy who treated their girlfriends like things that could be owned. Guess I wasn’t the cool boyfriend, after all.

***

“Did you fuck Jeremy last year?”

That was the question I should have asked. It certainly rode me the whole way back to my place, a fat devil on my shoulder, jealousy and curiosity in my ear. But I didn’t ask. I chickened out. This was the moment, and I couldn’t.

Instead, Morgan pressed us into that territory. “You’re not a fan of Jeremy,” she stated.

“Nah, he’s okay.” I had no idea why I said it. Ego or pride or something equally stupid, I didn’t want to admit the guy got under my skin, maybe?

Morgan wasn’t buying it. Even in her stoned and drunk state, she saw through me. “I get it. I thought that he was an asshole when I first met him, too.”

“I didn’t say he was an asshole.”

She giggled, leaning on me, squeezing my arm. “I know. I did, goof! He’s definitely the guy who likes to be the center of attention, but like all of us, there’s more to him than just that.”

“Well, that’s good.” Sarcasm snuck into my tone. Morgan snorted.

“I’m not asking you to be his friend.” We’d arrived at my place. She stopped in front of it, turning to me and taking my hands in hers. “Thanks for coming to the party with me. It was good to catch up with my friends there.”

“Of course. It was pretty fun.”

Morgan stepped closer. She was so beautiful. Her dark eyes wide and earnest, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, casting it in enough shadow to be mysterious, I wondered how the hell I ended up with her.

“I’m sorry we got split up,” she whispered. “I hope you’re not too upset.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I know.” Closer still, I felt her breasts on my chest. “But tonight, I get to take care of you.”

“Oh… kay.” Even after all the time together, she still could take my breath away.

The spell broke with her giggle. She pushed a strand of hair over her ear, smiled, and turned away. She was sweet Morgan again, the girl who’d left for London. “Come on, take me to bed.”

Next part, Tuesday, January 14!