But there’s a big problem here. Every time I sleep with a girl—without fail—they end up majorly attached to me. One-night stands, friends with benefits—all of them. But something in the way Maya moves is otherworldly to me. She’s got this smile, this vibrancy, and it’s not that I even want to sleep with her, even though I’m kidding myself if I say I don’t want to sleep with her because, hell, I’m a dude.
But more than anything, what I really want is just to be around her. Soak up her vibe. Chill with her and get to know her. Thursday morning was randomly the most fun I’ve had all year with a girl. I miss our drunken chats from fall term, and I want to bring those back. And she definitely needs to not get kicked out of school. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.
As she steps up to the starting line for her race, she finds me in the crowd, smiles, and gives me the tiniest wave you can imagine.
I do mean tiniest. She pulls her elbow in and moves her hand almost imperceptibly toward me. So, I do the same, imitating her little move.
When I return it, I see her smile, then shiver and shake her shoulders all around. I wonder if that’s a normal thing she does when she’s getting ready to race, or if she feels the same tingle down her spine that I do when we make eye contact. As I watch her race, I’ll think it’s the latter.
She takes her mark, then takes off. Every other runner is faster than she is out of the blocks. She’s not the smoothest runner. She doesn’t have the longest legs. Or the smoothest stride. Actually, she looks kind of awkward as she picks up steam, her stride isn’t a classic sprinter’s stride. She looks different than everyone else out there.
Still, she is damn fast.
When she comes around the curve of the one-hundred meter mark and runs past me on the home stretch, I get a slight breeze from the wind she creates.
There is something damn sexy about a woman running fast. To me, at least.
I swallow, and pangs of need land in my gut. Maya’s “improper.” She’s a tomboy who talks about sex like one of the bros and runs faster than most guys. I’ll bet she intimidates the heck out of many a man.
I wonder if the guys are right and my reluctance to make a move on her has to do with the fact that I’m so used to women coming as easy as pie to me. Hell, most things in my life have come somewhat easy. My baseball skills, my writing ability, my tenacity for music. I’m lucky to have a fantastic combination of amazing parents and inherent talent.
When it comes to Maya Waters, it’s now clear to me that I’m playing a whole different ball game.
With some people, you just get this feeling deep down that they’re going to be important in your life.
And that’s what I get with Maya.
So, I buckle in.
I might not have ever been with a girl as fast as Maya before. But luckily, I’m a quick learner.
5
Maya
The following Wednesday, after track practice I’m lazing around my apartment when I get a text from Grant.
Grant: Just so you know, I came up with a few other ideas for how to make a million dollars:
hit man
create an app
Instagram influencer
make a video game
start a coffee business
move into my apartment
paid blowjob classes
I giggle and reply.
Maya: Well hey there best friend. A million? We only need twelve thousand though.
Grant: I figure if we shoot for a million, it’s more likely we’ll get twelve. And wow, best friends? You move quick.
Maya: Yes I do. I’m fast, remember ;) And I like where your head’s at. Moving into your apartment would barely make a dent. And…blowjob class? Really?
Grant: It’s a high-demand skill. You could give classes.
I roll my eyes.
Maya: It’s just enthusiasm and preventing your gag reflex. It’s not hard.
Grant: It’s not?
Maya: No, it’s not.
Grant: No one has ever done that to me.
Maya: Are you saying you’ve never gotten a BJ? Please.
Grant: Not the way you’re describing it…I don’t think.
Maya: Oh, you poor boy. Why not?
Grant: We should continue this conversation in person… What are you up to this weekend?
Maya: Working Friday at Purple Spike, cocktailing... Saturday, we have a track meet, and work Saturday night, but I’m free Sunday.
Grant: Geez! Your schedule is killer. I have a game Sunday. Morning