Story #10 Crossing Boundries (Class Workshop)

Danielle Orner
Story # 10
3/26/07
Crossing Boundaries
I don’t know if it was the way his fingertips lingered on the palm of my hand after he returned my pen or my sudden realization that his room was only one flight of stairs above mine that infected me with the wild desire to push boundaries. Or maybe it was the sweaty sheet-tangled dream in which his big brown eyes looked meaningfully into mine causing a deep sense of connection that only dreams can produce. It was the kind of dream that made my cheeks flushed when I saw him the next afternoon as if he somehow knew about my nocturnal visions or as if they were true, as if we had shared that moment. It is the kind of dream that makes you think you’re in love with a stranger.
But he is not a stranger. Now, standing outside his dorm room door wondering whether or not to knock, I am trying to sort out what he is. A friend. A colleague. A fellow history major.
We have been resident advisors together in the same building for three years patrolling halls, hanging tacky decorations for Christmas programs, and swapping stories during staff meetings about drunken vomiting residents who had to be transported to the hospital over the weekend. After all this, it is only now occurring to me that he lives right up stairs from me. In his own room. Without a roommate. And I thought, as his fingertips rested a minute too long on my hand, that I could just walk up there one night and knock on the door and walk into his room and close the door behind me. So here I am staring at the blue resident advisor name plate on his door.
I have always known he likes me. I can feel it when he gives me a cocky crocked grin after a joke as if something more has been communicated between us. I know it by the way our casual flirting suddenly turns serious with a single comment and I have to look away. I know it but I am happy with Jeff. Jeff and I have been together since the first month of freshman year and there is no reason to change that. He is sweet, handsome, smart, and the best player on the water polo team. There is no reason to ruin a good thing. No reason but a lingering touch, a realization, and a dream. I want to know if I can. If I have the courage to knock on his door and alter everything.
Jeff kissed me goodnight at ten o’clock. I waited a half an hour to see if he would call or come back to get something he left behind. Then, I put my books back on my shelf and filed my homework away in the correct folders. I shut down my computer and placed my pens back in their cup. I brushed my teeth, spritzed perfume on my neck, ran a brush through my hair, and smeared peach flavored gloss across my lips. Shutting the door to my room, I jiggled the handle to make sure it was locked and pocketed the keys. I walked up the stairs as if I were going to ask another RA for a favor or to meet a resident for a study session. It was so easy. No one was lingering in the hall or the sub-lounge.
I think of his eyes, large and gentle, close to my face as he brushes my cheek with his nose, moving closer to my mouth. I think of his accented whisper slowly speaking my name as his lips trace the word against my ear. My body flushes warm. I tremble knowing I am about to cross a line. I knock. This is the wrong thing to do but all the boundaries are mine to bend. I hear him shuffling around inside the room. He opens the door. His face is bored like he expects a resident wanting to be keyed into their room. But I am standing there in a white tank top and low cut jeans. One red bra strap hangs on my shoulder threatening to slide down my arm and a long strand of dark brown hair falls across my left eye. These aren’t accidents. His face changes. I smile and it’s not my usual lets-be-a-peppy-res-life-staff smile. It’s a smile that says something more is being communicated between us.
His curly hair is rumpled like he has been running his hands through it while studying. It is exciting to think he has been having an ordinary night.
“Uh, hey Meredith.” He looks like he is about to ask what I need or if everything is going alright on first floor. But he doesn’t.
“Hey James.” I say his name like I am whispering it his ear. “Can I come in?”
He steps back clearing the doorway. I step in and close the door behind me without turning around. He stares not wanting to do anything to easy the electric prickling sensation in the air. I pause soaking in the uncomfortable heat and feeling the pull both towards and away from James body. I don’t want to rush this sensation because it will never be this intense again. After this, the line is blurred. I close my eyes and lean back against James’ door. My body is in chaos. My blood pounds through every inch of me trying to propel me in both directions. I open my eyes and look directly into James’ eyes. He is still standing in the middle of the room staring at me.
I slowly and deliberately close the distance between our bodies. He smells faintly of sweat and faintly of Lever 2000 from his morning shower. His breath is warm. I lift my arms and rest them on his shoulders while tracing the muscles in his neck up to the nape with lazy fingertips. I gentle twist my fingers in the ends of his hair. I look directly into his bewildered eyes and bite my lower lip tasting the gloss. Tilt my face upward towards his, I place my open lips on his mouth before pushing up to his body in a kiss. His hands come up strong on the small of my back pulling me in. We are in his room. The door is closed. The decision is made. And the whole night stretches out before us as I pull him down onto his sheets ready for dreams to begin.