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  “You are adorable,” she said, belying her strong New York accent. Schooner felt himself blush and he never blushed. He was used to women — of all ages — fawning over him. But Mrs. Silver — there was something in her gaze that cut through all that external California bullshit and he felt that she was really seeing him. And she still thought he was adorable. In that moment, Schooner felt more special than he’d ever felt. Inexplicably, he wanted her approval and was so happy to have it.

  “There’s Mia.” Mr. Silver’s voice cut into Schooner’s thoughts, jolting him and he dropped Mrs. Silver’s hand.

  Schooner turned and coming down the path to Brewster Hall was Mia Silver. He cocked his head to the side, taking her all in, a small smile on his face. Mia didn’t look like any of the girls he knew.

  Mia Silver bounded up the walk, quirky lopsided smile taking over her cute face. A mane of long dark curls bouncing behind her. She was wearing funky Lisa Loeb glasses and as she got closer, he could see that the irises of her big eyes were an ombre green that grew lighter as they moved in toward her pupil. The pupil itself was surrounded by rich caramel colored flames. Not only was there sharp intelligence in her beautiful eyes, but Schooner thought they looked like a devilish invitation, like they were beckoning to him, “Let’s be bad together. Let’s have some fun.” Schooner felt his chest tighten.

  Mia could not have been more than 5’2”, clad in faded Levi’s, a tee-shirt and clogs. He wondered if she realized she was probably the only girl in the entire freshman class not wearing a dress. He wondered if she even cared. What was she doing on this campus? She did not fit in.

  “Hey,” she smiled at him, confidently. Her freckled nose scrunching up.

  “Hey,” he returned, captured by her energy. At 5 foot nothing, he was sure she made an entrance everywhere she went. This girl had presence. And she was different. She was clearly not a California girl. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

  “Honey, meet Mr. and Mrs. Moore and Schooner.” Mrs. Silver offered.

  Mia beamed at the Moores, offering a firm handshake and immediately engaging Mr. and Mrs. Moore in conversation, while Schooner became acquainted with the Silvers. As they entered Brewster Hall, he could see Mrs. Silver giving Mia a little nudge and instinctively he knew it was about him. Mothers loved him. Mia rolled her eyes at her mom. He loved that.

  Over the next two days, the Moores and the Silvers spent the majority of their time together, while Schooner and Mia attended the different freshman sessions. As expected, the prom queen found a way to be seated near Schooner, separated by one of her friends who struck up a conversation with him, then quickly included the prom queen.

  While Schooner started gravitating toward the prom queen, her equally pageant-girl-like friends and other jock guys from his dorm, Mia’s growing entourage seemed to be a group from her dorm of Out-of-Staters, über-intellectual potheads and a few gays and lesbians. They were clearly migrating toward their comfort zones, which were as far apart as opposing football teams goal lines.

  On the last night of orientation, the Moores and the Silvers dined together off-campus. When they parted at the end of the evening, Mr. Moore pulled Schooner aside to where he and Mr. Silver were standing. “Keep an eye out for her, son.” Motioning toward Mia, “She’s only sixteen. Make sure you’re there for her.”

  Only sixteen? This little ball of fire who clearly already had her own entourage on campus was only sixteen. Wow — she had the confidence of a twenty-five year old. Only sixteen?

  “I will, Sir,” promised Schooner, trying not to act stunned at the revelation. He’d be turning nineteen in just a few months and little Mia was, well, in fact, little Mia. She certainly didn’t seem to need any looking after. In fact, he felt pretty certain Mia Silver could take very good care of herself.

  CHAPTER 4

  Getting settled in the first few weeks of college turned out to be more of a juggling act than Schooner had anticipated. Classes. Studying. Tennis practice (he was determined to make first string his freshman year). Learning to live with a roommate (Beau Gordon was a trip, he could not sleep without the radio on all night and hated the way headphones felt). And CJ.

  Schooner had already started dating the prom queen, who had been, yes, in fact, the prom queen at her high school. CJ MacAllister was well schooled in getting precisely what she wanted and from that very first day of freshman orientation, Schooner Moore was everything she wanted. Incredibly handsome, smart, athletic, from a well-to-do California family. Schooner Moore was the bomb. And she was going to get him. And never let go. Their children would be magnificent. And CJ MacAllister was going to be the mother of Schooner Moore’s children.

  CJ started to show up at the tennis courts to watch Schooner practice. She always brought a friend or two (Bitches, Schooner thought, laughing to himself, travel in packs). He wasn’t past putting on a show for the girls, taking his shirt off at the end of practice and letting them watch the sweat run down his impressive golden pecs toward his six-pack abs. Her friends would suddenly disappear when it was time for Schooner to get off the courts, leaving CJ waiting alone for him.

  After a few days of walking CJ back to her dorm, she invited Schooner up to her room. Acting coy and coquettish (acting, being the operative word… and he was aware of that, but let her act), they had a hot make out session. Schooner backed CJ up to her bed with its Victorian Rose pattern spread and gently pushed her down onto it. Propped up on her elbows, looking up at him innocently through long lashes, Schooner quickly recognized that CJ knew just how to get to him. This was clearly not her first rodeo, although she wanted him to believe that it was. He also knew, two could play this game and it would be so much fun to make sure he controlled it. Controlled a girl who always got what she wanted — no problem, he thought. Schooner was the master.

  Schooner slid on top of her, kissing her deeply, her tongue meeting his perfectly in its dance. He slid his hands up the back of her thighs and wrapped them around his waist. The bulge in his tennis shorts was straining against his zipper and all he wanted to do was take it out and give it to her, hard. He pressed his package bulge against her moist underwear and she moaned.

  “Feels good?” He asked.

  “Mmm-hmm,” was all she could muster, as he relentlessly ground himself and rammed against her underwear.

  He ran his thumb and forefinger over the front of her pink cotton blouse until he could feel her nipple harden to his touch. He kept running his thumb over it until her nipple felt like a stone and then he dipped his head and sucked it though her shirt, biting it and pulling it with his front teeth. Her sounds were telling him that she was coming undone fast. He grabbed her ass and pulled her into him, pressing the bulge in his tennis shorts tighter against her. CJ strained against him, desperately trying to rub herself against his massive bulge, trying to get herself off on the friction. And without removing a single piece of her clothes or his, Schooner Moore gave CJ MacAllister one mind blowing orgasm.

  He dropped her back on the bed looking dazed and still quaking as he adjusted the raging hard on in his now too tight shorts.

  “Thanks for coming to see me practice today,” he leaned forward, gave her a rough kiss on her already bruised lips, grabbed his tennis racquets and left CJ’s dorm room, stopping at the door long enough to turn to her, grace her with a full-blown killer smile and revel in how utterly stupefied she looked.

  Carrying his racquets in front of him, to hide the sizable bulge he was sporting, Schooner left the all-girls dorm with a smug smile on his face. Tables turned, Prom Queen! She’d be giving it all to him in no time flat, without having to wait for her to play the virgin game, deciding if she should “let him be the one.” He’d met enough cock-teasing prom queens in his life. This was college now, and if CJ MacAllister wanted him, then she was going to play by his rules.

  Four days later they became lovers.

  CHAPTER 5

  The following Saturday morning, The Quad was lined with b
uses for the entire freshman class to take them up into the mountains for Freshman Retreat. Freshman Retreat was mandatory. Schooner, Beau and assorted tennis, basketball and football players from their dorm headed to the buses together. He knew CJ would be looking for him and secretly hoped that she wouldn’t find him (6’2” blonde god was hard to miss). He wanted to establish relationships with the other guys in his dorm, without being part of a couple and without the ribbing — which was already beginning.

  The ride up to the retreat center in the San Bernardino National Forest seemed to take forever as the convoy of buses slowly meandered up the highway’s steep incline and hairpin turns. One of the dorm RA’s announced on the bus loudspeaker that a BBQ lunch was being served in the main lodge, class elections would take place immediately following lunch and the rest of the afternoon was free for hiking, swimming or leisure activity of choice.

  Beau grabbed Schooner’s arm as they got off the bus and motioned to a trailhead. “I brought a dube,” he whispered.

  “You are the man!” Schooner acknowledged, heading down the trail.

  They were probably about a quarter of a mile down the path looking for some boulders to park on when Schooner saw Mia’s telltale long dark curls in front of them. He called out to her and she turned and met him with a big grin. She walked up to the guys and Schooner said, “How have you been doing?”

  She just shrugged her shoulders, “I am so not into the group thing. I hate all this kumbayah shit.”

  Schooner laughed out loud, “You into smoking some shit?” Mia’s eyes lit up and that little devil, partner-in-crime look he had seen on the day they first met, reemerged.

  The three found a path off the main trail and hiked a ways to an area where they wouldn’t be easily found. It was hard for Mia to keep up with the two long-legged guys. They lounged on some large rocks and Beau pulled out the joint and lit it up. Schooner could tell that Beau was not comfortable with Mia. He doubted that he’d ever met anyone quite like her and didn’t know how to take her. Schooner, on the other hand, thought she was a blast. He’d never had many girls who were just friends, not flirting their asses off to try and get his attention, and Mia was so comfortable to just hang out with — kind of like hanging out with the boys, but there was something so cute about her and damn, she had great tits. He had to remind himself that she was only sixteen.

  Beau held up the joint to her, “I hope you’re not a virgin.”

  Schooner saw the blush flare in her face and knew that while his little sixteen year old friend might not be a virgin to getting high, sexually she was really innocent. Her urbane New York exterior masked just how innocent she really was. Schooner felt this strong need bursting to protect her. Protect her like a little sister, he told himself.

  They smoked the rest of the joint while Beau pointedly ignored Mia, just talking directly to Schooner, as if she were not even present. It was uncomfortable and Schooner wondered what the hell was Beau’s problem. He thought maybe Beau was just used to pining over the California Barbie’s that shot him down, but whatever it was, Mia took off immediately upon finishing the joint.

  “See you guys up at the lodge. Thanks for the smoke.” And she quickly retreated up the trail. Schooner wondered where her entourage was and why she seemed to be in loner mode today. But being stoned, that thought quickly evaporated and was replaced by something else, as was the fleeting thought that maybe he should not let her be wandering in the woods alone.

  By the time Schooner and Beau made it up to the lodge, freshman class elections were well underway. They leaned against the wall near the door and Schooner surveyed the crowd. In the second row, paying rapt attention, were CJ and her soon-to-be group of sorority sisters. Scanning the room, he finally saw Mia sitting on a chair in the back. The look on her face was one of pure fright. Crouched down and clutching the back of her chair was Tim Vandergrift, freshman class President-elect and the class equivalent of douche bag Greg Marmalard from the movie Animal House (He looked like him, too!). He was crouched down and sniffing Mia. Schooner and Mia made eye contact and he could see she was paranoid as all hell that Mr. Brownie Points was going to turn her in to some school authority for reeking of pot and that she was going to get sent home for getting high at the Freshman Retreat (which, of course, was held at a Christian retreat center).

  Schooner could see Mia’s eyes pleading with him for help as she mouthed the word, “Fuck!”. All he could hear was his father’s words in his head to look out for her. CJ noticed Schooner leaning against the wall and followed his line of sight back to Mia. She also noticed Mia locked in on her boyfriend. Just then, there was a loud crash as a pitcher of ice water smashed onto the Mexican tile floor. All heads turned to see the source of the crash. Schooner had “inadvertently” knocked a pitcher off the table. The crash had brought Tim out of his crouched position to his full standing height of 6’4” and his attention to the left wall of the room. Mia used the diversion to pop out of her chair and head out of the lodge’s main room through a door on the right. Schooner silently gave himself a pat on the back.

  Mia was standing out at the front circle waiting for one of the earlier buses back, when CJ noticed her standing there. CJ had been in search of Schooner, but thought, “let him have his boys time. I’ve got something more important to take care of.” Grabbing her roommate and some girls from her dorm, CJ convinced them it was time to leave.

  She sat directly behind Mia on the bus and went into full animation mode as she reveled her followers with tales of her prom court and of what a wonderful kisser her new boyfriend, Schooner was (still playing the virgin act, she was not going to let any of her virginal friends/soon-to-be sorority sisters know that Schooner liked to pull her hair when she blew him or that he liked it rough… and that she was learning to like it that way, too). She even went so far as to make the prediction that he was “the one.” Her followers giggled with delight.

  Mia sunk deeper into her seat, wishing she’d had her Walkman and some headphones with her, so she didn’t have to listen to a show she somehow instinctively knew was being put on for her benefit. She couldn’t understand why though. CJ was gorgeous and had clearly already captured Schooner’s attention and from the sounds of it, his heart. So why the big show? Why did she have to make sure Mia knew he was hers?

  Mia silently wiped a tear that began to roll down her right cheek. She buried her face against the cold metal of the bus so that no one could see. In her head, looping was a line from an old Blondie song:

  Went walking one day on the lower East side

  Met you with a girlfriend, you were so divine

  She said, “Hands off this one sweetie, this boy is mine.”

  I couldn’t resist you — I’m not deaf, dumb, and blind1

  Mia had never felt so alone or so very far away from home.

  CHAPTER 6

  Schooner had been sitting with his mother in a coffee shop eating a grilled cheese sandwich when the man approached their booth. Four year old Schooner was not very interested in what they were talking about, because the grilled cheese had bacon that tasted really good and the French fries had bumps (his mother had called them crinkle fries). His mother was also letting him drink Coke that day instead of milk with his lunch, which never happened at home. So everything on his plate and in his glass was much more interesting than anything this man had to say. But Schooner knew, they were talking about him.

  “Photograph so well…All-American Boy…Pay for his education…”

  The man handed Mrs. Moore his card and two weeks later, Schooner was in a photographer’s studio having his headshots and portfolio done. First, the photographer dressed him in a baseball uniform and posed him with a bat. Then, a bathing suit and had him stand next to a giant flowered surfboard, in front of a large mural of the beach. They finished up with school clothes and oversized glasses, pretending to be reading a book.

  “A natural…The camera loves him…Big career in front of him…”

 
Schooner learned early the importance of his good looks and what those looks could do for him. From the age of four until fourteen, his photo graced the cover and pages of every major catalogue in the US (and internationally, too). All the while, a trust account in his name became sizable (a trust account that would one day help him to become a very successful businessman, at a very young age).

  Schooner grew up looking in the mirror and worrying when his face started changing in adolescence, when his skin started to become prone to breakouts. Schooner worried that he wasn’t perfect anymore and that would mean letting people down — especially his mother, who managed his career very tightly and whom he wanted to please more than anyone.

  Sometimes during those extended sessions of studying his face in the mirror, Schooner would think about “the mask” he was looking at. The mask that had perfected the heart-stopping smile. And he would wonder, “What does my real smile look like?” and “Who am I really beneath the mask?” and it frustrated him that he did not know the answers to those questions.

  And so Schooner truly became the ultimate actor — acting out the role he thought would make his parents happy. He was the All-American Boy. Handsome, polite, top student, great athlete, buddy, boyfriend, son, soon-to-be frat brother. Schooner kept everyone happy.

  Schooner Moore had no fucking idea who he really was.

  CHAPTER 7

  CJ and Schooner sat on the big stone steps outside her dorm studying for a Biology exam. It was a perfect fall day to be outdoors, the air was clear, free of smog, puffy white cumulus clouds with towering tops floated by on the breeze and the mountains appeared as if they were the campus’ hand painted backdrop.

  “But I’m still confused,” CJ’s pretty brows were knit together, “which one is oxidation and which one is reduction”.