The King
I moved to Boston (Boss town) shortly after my 21st birthday. I need to finish college and am attending what is referred to as “a historically blue collar, commuter school” by a cranky old man visiting a coffee shop where I work during my year off of school. When I mention I’m studying English Literature he scowls with judgement, “It’s not really a school meant for people studying liberal arts.”
Anything is better than the rural hell hole where I was raised. I absorb his passive insults and smile while I hand him a receipt for his cheesecake and coffee.
When I first arrive to Boss town I reconnect with friends who had moved there years before. They attend what is referred to as “the school with a more global reputation” by a girl I meet whose father bought her a Lexus. Her boyfriend is a coke dealer but he doesn’t do coke, “Monkeys don’t sell bananas!” is his motto she says.
The girl with the Lexus drives several of us to a dive bar in Allston. She’s wearing a t-shirt with the Sugar Daddy lollipop logo on it. I spot the King from across the room. I want to take him home with me. He is 6’4” with blonde hair and blue eyes. He has a strong jaw. He tells me that’s what makes him so beautiful, it’s been passed down in his genes. He has full lips like some waspy 90s era Calvin Klein model. There are buildings named after his ancestors. I continue to size him up but assume I’m not good enough. My new friends are cackling with each other and playing Buck Hunter.
I gather my liquid courage and walk up to him and his friend and start flirting with him. I tell him he’s not my type and it works. We continue to talk as I explain I’m new here. I decide to abandon my friends and tell him he can come home with me. Later on in the cab back to my apartment, we make out furiously. He brushes his fingers over my nipples through my shirt. His hands are big, his mouth is wide and the kisses are wet. I’m too drunk to have sex that night but in the morning I wake up next to him with a hazy memory.
“What’s your name again?” I ask, I have no shame.
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