The TA.

The Text

I feel my heartbeat in my ears as I draft the text.
Why'd you give me your number? Lannie x.
My phone buzzes a minute later, sends me into a panic.
Nath: I want to help you write.
Me: That's all you want?
Nath: I swear. My intentions are pure.
Me: I don't believe you, but sure, buy me a beer and write with me, it sounds fun.
Nath: Meet me at College Bar off second, Friday night at 8.
Me: I'll be there.
I squeal and throw my phone aside. It bounces off the wall and thuds onto the carpet. Julie sticks her head through our adjoining door.
"What's going on?"
"I have a date Friday night, I think."
"Yes, get it girl!"
On Friday night, I skip out of the door telling myself off for taking so long getting ready. I see Nathan pacing outside the bar, checking his watch as I walk up. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and turns his head. I feel him notice me, eyes tracking down over my jeans.
"Hey you," he smiles.
I stand close to him and let him kiss my cheek and take my hand.
When we walk in the bartender gives me a long look, lifts his chin to acknowledge Nathan.
Nathan pulls me into a booth and holds my hand over the table as I sit opposite him.
"So what's the story? Who are the boys in the poems?"
"Who says there's boys, plural?"
He shrugs.
"There's got to be boys, plural, you're a beautiful girl."
"Well, there was one in high school."
"But?"
"That fizzled when we started having sex."
"What?"
"Turns out the chemistry didn't extend that far."
"Hmm."
He laces his fingers between mine. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
"We need beer," I mutter.
He nods.
He takes his hand away and wanders over to the bar. He glances over his shoulder at me as he talks to the bartender. He comes back with a pitcher and two glasses.
He talks as he pours me a glass.
"So what, you haven't hooked up here yet?"
I laugh, "No. I haven't even been out."
"I'll take you out," he says. "I know which houses are safe."
"Cool. Honestly you'll have a hard time getting guys to hit on me."
"So hit on them."
I hide my face behind my glass and take a long gulp of beer.
"No, no I don't do that."
"Why not?"
"Say there's a hot guy in front of me, I won't approach him because what do I say and how do I say it and what if he's not into me at all? Or worse, what if he's into me but he's arrogant or pushy and he just wants to use me? What if he's bad in bed? Because I don't want bad sex and I know what I'm doing and I don't need him for an orgasm. And then I end up going home and having drunk slightly numb solo sex that doesn't make a difference to how much I need to feel a cock between my legs. Does that make sense?"
He stares at me, blinking slowly.
"Too much?"
He nods.
"But if you need it so bad..."
I shake my head hastily, my cheeks and neck growing red.
"Seriously, you're a pretty girl, someone should throw you a bone."
"Bury me a bone."
He laughs, slaps the table.
We drink our beers.
"So how come you ended up over here?"
He shakes his head.
"Long story."
"Look, I told you about me, come on."
"I just did," he says. "Things were taking a while to happen back home so I thought, college in America."
"As you do."
He nods.
"What was taking a while to happen?"
"I was trying to be a singer-songwriter."
"Maybe you can sing me something some time."
His eyes darken, he looks away and downs the rest of his beer.
"You don't want to hear break-up songs," he mutters.
"Why not?"
He meets my eyes.
"Just drop it. Drink your beer."
He walks me back to my dorm in silence and we stand awkwardly by the door.
"Look sorry, I just don't talk about before."
I nod, "It's okay."
He takes a step back.
I reach forward and grab his arm.
"I had a good time tonight."
The corner of his mouth twitches but he doesn't quite smile.
"Cool, look I've got to go."
He shakes off my touch and starts away in long strides. 
I wander up to my room and sit in the warm light of the bedside lamp, wondering about his break-up songs.