Flavor of Harvard — Day 2

The living room smelled like freshly popped popcorn and the light from the cracked window made the couch glow orange on one side. I tugged twice at my sweatshirt. It barely reached my mid-thigh, and I regretted coming out of the bathroom with just that on. I looked down at my bare brown legs. They sparkled since the only lotion in Iris’s toiletry bag had diamondy bits in it. It was as if she knew this very scenario would happen and stocked the bathroom ahead of time with a first date preparedness kit.

I peeked through a handful of chin-long curls to see Wesley staring back at me with his lip parted. “Yeah, I don’t know,” I said to him for no particular reason.

Iris, who’d certainly been listening, burst out of her room. “Oh wow, you look so beautiful and confident,” she locked eyes with me on the word confident as if to remind me to fake it. Then she turned to Wesley and shook his hand. “Nice meeting you again, Wesley. I’d love so much to stay but I have a thing. Take a seat anywhere you like, there you go great choice.” She walked over and directly me to sit so close to him that the tiny hairs on his bare legs tickled mine. “Soph, squish in. Good, good.”

She then lifted the remote and pressed play on the first episode of Flavor of Love. “Viel Spaß. That means have fun in German.”

When she closed the door, I blurted out to Wesley. “I just finished the first two episodes, sorry.”

He laughed in response. “Me too,” he whispered, his sleepy eyes inches from mine. “I didn’t want to look like an ill-informed idiot since I’d never seen it before.” He gently tucked two of my twists behind my ear. “How can you see through your hair anyway?” His gaze kept darting from one of my eyes to the next and then to my mouth making a seductive triangle which felt intentional, but I didn’t know what to do or how to respond so I turned to the TV.

“Third episode then?” I asked handing him the remote. “You mind?”

As he fumbled with the remote, I felt my forehead crunch at my behavior. I’d gotten into Harvard University after all. I’d read thousands of books, many of them nonfiction. I could recite hundreds of poems and sonnets even essays without a single stutter. But there I was questioning my intelligence at not knowing how to work a remote control to watch Flavor of Love. Iris was correct. Chin up, Sophia, I told myself. Get yourself together! Sure, my best friend was a chicken named Annie, and my siblings and Mama and backyard farm was my whole world, but I’d earned my spot on this couch at this moment with this boy.

I turned back to him, forcing my chin in the air. “Which contestant do you think will win?”

He smiled genuinely. “I like Goldie.”

“Me too,” I replied. “She reminds me of home.”

“Hate that he eliminated Picasso though,” he said tilting his head further down revealing the under-whites of his eyes like a puppy. “I actually believed her when she said she liked the guy.”

“I said the same thing!”

After a moment of quiet, “Shall we?” he asked.

“We shall.”

And we watched Flavor of Love Episodes 3-7 without as much as a bathroom break. It sounded strange, but it was the perfect way to get to know someone—watching Flavor of Love for hours together. I listened for his gasps and moments of disappointment and found some of his tells. I glanced over at his eyes when Goldie went home and caught a touch of sadness the same as mine. I saw him absolutely loathe New York at first and then felt him evolve at her quick wit and mean honesty. Then, when the contestants began to get seriously close to being chosen by Flav, Wesley’s arm lifted around the back of my shoulders, and I leaned into him a bit. It was sweet and easy, and all that I’d been afraid of was unfounded. It really was the perfect first not-date date.

Then, Wesley suddenly pressed pause and leaped to his feet. “I have something to tell you,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone this, but I need to tell someone and you’re a beautiful writer, so I think you’ll understand.”

I settled in attempting to hide my disappointment he’d left the cuddle of the couch. “What is it?”

“I realize we just met,” he continued. “This is insane. I’ll just say it. I’m leaving Harvard.”

“What?” I asked shifting to the edge of the couch. “Why would you do that? You’re grad assistant. You must be a great student.”

“I am, and I know,” he said with his hands on his head. “I got the Steinward Fellowship.”

“Oh my,” I replied before standing. “That’s…well that’s a great reason. That fellowship has less than a .0003% acceptance rate I think.”

“Exactly right,” he looked impressed and grabbed my hands. “I went to Exeter on scholarship. And I’m scraping by here in Cambridge. I’d love to stay here but it’s impossible at this point. The Fellowship pays and I can’t turn down paying gigs.”

“I understand.”

“It’s in…” he started.

“England,” I finished for him. “I know it well.”

Sadness seeped in and it must’ve showed on my face. “I’m telling you this today,” he said before glancing at his watch. “The twenty-seventh day of August, because I want you to know I’m leaving this city in a few months. And I wanted you to have that information before I kiss you.”

He did the triangle thing again—left eye, right eye, and his gaze lingered on my mouth until I bit my lip out of nervousness.

“I,” I said. “I grew up… I never knew how to…”

I thought back to all the paperback romances on the spin display in the library. They mostly had men riding horses on the covers or men with six pack abdominals bending slightly backward with beaches in the background. But the few with women on their covers looked confident in their sexuality. Those women would’ve welcomed kisses after a lovely evening of Flavor of Love. Then I thought of Goldie who’d just got sent home from Flav’s mansion. And New York and Smiley who both relished every chance to lock lips with him. It couldn’t be rocket-science. I could do this. I leaned forward, closed my eyes and kissed Wesley. Right there in my dorm living room.

His lips were soft and sweet like yeast rolls with honey in the batter. His fingers traced my arm and then cupped my face gently. I’d never felt anything like it before and I was thankful to be experience it then and there. No wonder kissing was such a staple in books. The tingly whisps shooting through my belly were euphoric and I never wanted to stop this. Then our teeth clanked, and I pulled away.

“Sorry,” I said but he just smiled and sat back down.

I stood over him and I wanted so badly to kiss him again, but he lifted the remote and held his arms open for me to fall into them. “Come.”

So, I did. And we finished the season on the couch with me tucked tightly in the arms of the dreamy graduate assistant that was leaving in a few short months.

“We should do a school-wide rewatch of this,” he said before brushing his lips on my bare neck. “I think we could charge for something like that.”

He chuckled and proceeded to press play, but I thought it just might be a decent idea.