Disclaimer: GW and all things associated belong to Sunrise
& the Sotsu Agency.
Notes: All grammar credit goes to Lilias, who is great at
keeping me in check. ^o^
CHAPTER FOUR: Extracurricular
Lessons
It was nearly two weeks later when the Omega Zeta hopefuls
had their pledge ceremony. We weren't
surprised to learn that Wufei had made it.
He was smart, talented, handsome, and incredibly popular, considering
what a quiet and brusque person he was.
He seemed relieved, though—like a weight had been lifted from his chest.
It was probably because of the hazing. It was illegal, but the Ozzies had been
doing it for years. But as long as you were
a member of the fraternity—as long as you made it in—you were protected from
the college police. It was the kind of
thing that made Duo and me seethe, but at the same time, we were glad that
Wufei wouldn't get busted for his prank at the football game.
The night after he pledged, he told us all about it. He'd gone with Sally Po; she'd offered to
play lookout while he mowed the name into the field. He said it was the most nerve-wracking thing he'd ever done, and
if he hadn't made it into the frat it would've driven him crazy. I personally couldn't imagine doing
something like it, but Trowa and Heero said they thought it'd be fun.
Duo decided to throw his own personal opinions aside in
order to celebrate. Midterms seemed to
be a lot easier than our professors had made them out to be at the beginning of
the quarter, so we gave up some of our study time to have a small party in Wufei's
honor. Trowa and Duo had plenty of
connections—our refrigerator had been stocked with bottles and cans of beer
since the second week of the quarter.
Heero and Duo came over to our room early Friday night—no dates, no
girls. Just the five of us, lots of
alcohol, and Trowa's PlayStation.
"This music is crap," Duo slurred, tossing my
CDs onto Trowa's bed. "Do you have
any metal? Who the hell is Rachmaninov
anyway?"
Trowa gave a half-smile.
"I don't think you'll find what you're looking for in Quat's
collection," he smirked.
"Check Wufei's desk. It's
mostly rap, but there might be some hard rock, at least."
Duo changed the music, opting for some classic rock
instead of the "boring" music I'd left in the CD player. "Ah, this is much better," he smiled,
sitting on the floor beside me and leaning on the couch. "I've made some nice memories to music
like this." He grinned wolfishly
and poked Wufei in the ribs. "So
spill it, scowly-boy. Who was your
first?"
"The first girl I slept with?" Wufei frowned slightly. He pulled a framed picture from his desk
drawer and passed it around to us.
"Meiran," he said. His
voice carried a touch of wistfulness.
"What school does she go to?" I asked. She was awfully cute. She was tiny and pretty and wore her hair in
two pigtails. She was smiling in the
picture, but it was more of a triumphant grin than a simple smile for the
camera.
"She doesn't go to school." Wufei shook his head. "She was killed in a car accident last
year."
Heero's eyes were sympathetic, but his voice was bold as
he asked, "Were you two dating at the time?"
Wufei shrugged.
"We were never official or anything. Hell—we fought more than we ever got along." He was silent for a moment, staring at his
bottle of beer. "But our families
were close and we were always together.
We had the same friends in school, so when everyone else started doing
things, we did, too. She was the only
girl I ever liked. Loved. Whatever." He took a swig of beer
before glancing at Trowa. "What
about you?"
My heart began to thump wildly and my mouth was suddenly
dry. The last thing I wanted to hear
was about Trowa's first conquest. I
instantly thought of that night with Sylvia.
I avoided looking at Trowa, taking a gulp of my beer instead.
"Was it the babe from all those pictures on your
wall?" Duo asked eagerly, nodding to the photos of Cathrine and Trowa
plastered over his desk. Trowa rarely
spoke of her—and he never gave detailed explanations to anyone about anything.
He laughed.
"Cathrine? Hardly. She's my sister!" I froze.
His sister? So then.... My stomach turned, violently reacting to the
alcohol in my system as well as the realization that I'd been mentally accusing
Trowa of cheating on his sister since the OZ party. I could feel beads of sweat on my brow; my hands felt clammy and
gross, and my dry mouth suddenly began to water.
"Then who was your first?" Heero asked.
Trowa shrugged.
"Someone from my old hi—"
I threw up. In his
lap. My face burned with mortification
and I couldn't look at him. Duo was
laughing—I could hear him howling even when I buried my face in my arms.
"Are you all right?" Trowa asked softly, setting
a cool hand on my shoulder. The other
guys were snickering and making comments about my inability to hold my liquor.
I looked up, startled to see concern etched on his face
rather than disgust.
"I-I'm sorry.
I think I'm okay now." My
face became even hotter, but my stomach was no longer lurching.
"Good."
He stood up and offered his hand to me.
"Let's get you to the bathroom, just in case." I let him help me up, ashamed to be enjoying
his hands on my shoulder and back as he led me to the bathroom. Once we were inside, he wiped my face with a
cool, wet towel. "Was this your
first time drinking?" he asked patiently.
I nodded.
"I figured.
You're not exactly the partying type." He handed me the towel and took off his soiled shirt. His muscles were well defined. I'd studied his torso a million times since
the first day I met him, but I never failed to be impressed. I wondered if his skin felt as smooth as it
looked.
I didn't like staring at him. Well, I liked it—I just didn't especially like liking it. I examined his face, rather unguarded for
once. His profile—the straight nose,
sharp jaw line, soft-looking lips—was interesting to study. There was something unique about him,
something I couldn't pinpoint.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I hadn't noticed that he was looking at me
again, I was so engrossed in studying him.
I flushed again. "You're
making me worried, Quat."
"I'm okay."
I rinsed out my mouth quickly and we headed back to the room. Heero and Wufei were engrossed in a new game
and Duo was on the phone, ordering a pizza.
I sat down on Trowa's bed, feeling a bit queasy again.
Trowa rummaged through a basket of newly-washed clothes,
unaware that I was watching him. He
pulled on a fresh t-shirt, then unbuttoned his jeans. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him pull off the tight
pants. I'd never watched him like this
before—not that his jeans left much to the imagination, anyway. But I had to confess that reality was much
better than the mental picture I'd spent the last month and a half conjuring.
I wondered, briefly, what it might be like to run my hands
over those perfectly sculpted soccer-playing legs. Or maybe to brush my own bare legs against his. I shook my head, forcing the idea from my
mind. When I finally glanced across the
room, Duo was looking at me. I felt
very sick again.
***
"You know, I understand where you're coming
from," Duo said the next day as we finished our dinner. "I mean, sometimes it's really hard to
be a little guy and be surrounded by people who are better built and stuff. But you've got to have confidence,
Quat. You know, you look nice, too,
even if you don't have the huge muscles.
Besides, once you start training heavily for the swimming season, you're
going to spend more time in the weight room, too."
I rolled my eyes and stood up to go to the trashcans. Just my luck—Duo thought my staring at Trowa
had been an envious thing, that I was jealous of my roommate's physical
superiority. And, in Duo-world, that
meant I lacked confidence about my sexual prowess as well. He wouldn't even give me a chance to tell
the truth, though I still wasn't completely sure I wanted to.
"Besides," Duo continued, oblivious to my
silence, "some chicks go for the little, scrawny types. Look at Heero. He's not any bigger than you, and he's dating one of the nicest
girls on campus. I know at least five girls
who think you're cute."
"Duo," I said, stopping in the middle of the
cafeteria. "I don't need a pep
talk. I just want to go swimming."
He nodded sagely.
"That'll be good for you.
But remember, Quat—it's what's on the inside that counts."
I dumped my trash in the recycling bins and quickly made
my way over to the rec center. I hadn't
spent nearly enough time in the pool, and I intended to change that. What was the point spending all my free time
mooning over a guy who was clearly straight?
Sure, he wasn't with Cathrine, like I thought—which meant he wasn't
cheating on her, as I'd suspected—but that didn't mean he wasn't straight. I was just keeping my hopes up to make
myself feel better somehow.
I changed quickly in the locker room, wondering for a
moment if I would ever have a run-in with a gorgeous gay man who was clearly
interested in me. Like you'd ever be so
lucky, I thought sarcastically as I tossed my belongings into a locker.
I made my way to the Olympic-sized pool. I was anxious to get in. I missed swimming. It had always been my "alone time" when I was at
home. If things got frustrating, or I
needed to think, several laps were enough to sort things out. But unfortunately the school natatorium was
not in the privacy of my own home.
There were several girls swimming at the other end of the pool. And one was familiar.
"Quatre Winner?" Dorothy called as she jogged
toward me. She had been training
seriously with the other girls, judging by her goggles and the stopwatch in her
hand. "I wondered when I would see
you here."
I smiled half-heartedly and responded lamely, "It's
been a tough quarter."
"Tell me about it," she said, tossing her
hair. "I've let my times slip so
much since summer. I think I might
actually have to cut my hair so I can fit into a swimming cap. Do you want to have a friendly race? Just so we don't lose our steam?"
I had the feeling that she'd be hard to best, although I'd
never met a girl who could match my scores—let alone beat me. She was tall and very strong, I could
tell. "Sure," I replied,
pulling my goggles over my eyes.
We took our places and proceeded to race for the next two
hours, stopping for short breaks and lazy swims intermittently. She was good. Toward the middle of the second hour she was beating me
frequently. I had never been good with
long distances, and these short breaks weren't enough to keep my muscles from
tiring.
"I started out as a distance swimmer," Dorothy
explained when we finally called it quits.
"My favorite was the 1600-meter.
But I had an appendectomy at the beginning of my sophomore year, and my
times slipped. So I decided to start
over. I trained for shorter races and
eventually began to excel at those. My
specialty now is the 400-meter individual medley."
I was impressed.
"I'm only strong with freestyle and backstroke," I
admitted. "I never could get the
hang of the butterfly."
"That's my weakest, too. But maybe we can help each other train or something. I think you'll be fun to work with."
I had to agree.
This had been a relaxing evening and exactly what I needed after all the
ups and downs of the quarter. After all
the thinking about Trowa, anyway.
We walked back toward the dorms together, talking about
little things—where we were from, what our families were like—just getting to
know one another. It was nice. When I finally got back to my room, there
was a hastily-written note on the dry-erase board Wufei had put up a month
before. "Come back later," it
read in Trowa's scrawl. I listened at
the door for a moment, wondering if he had Sylvia over again.
I went to the lounge instead, to bug Heero and Zechs while
they played chess. I found that nothing
pissed off Heero more than explaining to him how he could've played a better move. After a half hour or so I saw Trowa coming
down the hallway with a tall, attractive guy.
I recognized him—he was one of the Ozzies. They paused at the door, talking briefly.
"Who is that?" I asked Zechs, gesturing toward
the hall.
"Nichol," the blond man grunted. "Check."
Trowa said goodbye to the guy and came into the
lounge. He looked tired. "Sorry about that," he said softly
to me, glancing at my swim bag. "I
mean, if you wanted into the room and all.
It's just that we were studying pretty hard for our German lit
class. I didn't want Wufei to come in
listening to his headphones and singing along, insisting that he was being
quiet. You know how he is." He met my eyes briefly before turning away
and leaving the lounge.
I nodded numbly.
It wasn't like Trowa to make a priority of studying. Not even for midterms.
Zechs cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression
on his face. "But Nichol took
German lit with me two years ago."
Continued in Autumn: 05