Zodiac Boy
By Jordan Davis
My sophomore year of college, I had my first kiss. I downloaded Tinder, matched with a guy who ghosted me six months prior.
“Sorry, I blocked you. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, I had to remove you completely from my life.” Scorpio explained.
Scorpio suggested we meet in person. It was nine o'clock at night. My father warned me to never go out with a man past 8, at least at my age. I was nineteen years old and had just received my first car. I felt reckless with my newfound freedom.
“Hey, I really want to see you tonight. We can meet up somewhere just to talk. I’ll send you the location of where I’m at.” Scorpio said.
My ego was healed. The man that previously rejected me thought I was worthy enough for a second chance. I took a shower and rushed to blend in my foundation. Wore a low-cut T-shirt and skirt. On the drive to meet Scorpio, I blasted Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. I was overwhelmed with an irrational amount of confidence. The guy who I liked wanted me. I arrived at the location. It was a resting truck stop off I-70. I parked my car next to a green Jeep Wrangler. The driver inside matched the pictures Scorpio had sent.
“Is that you?” I texted him. The driver checked his phone, looked at the car parked next to him. He waved, confirming that he was Scorpio.
“This is an odd situation. So, I’m going to take a picture of your license plate and send it to my mom,” I texted Scorpio.
“Do what you need to do.” Scorpio replied. I wasn’t actually going to tell my mom that I met a guy at a resting truck stop off I-70. I was just eliminating my chances of getting killed or assaulted. After snapping pictures of his car, I got into the passenger seat of his car. He played music to drown the awkwardness. Without warning, he pressed his lips against mine. His entire mouth engulfed my lips. This was not a kiss. He was sucking my mouth. After that terrible kiss, he plopped back onto his seat and sighed.
“That was amazing,” Scorpio said.
For the longest, I assumed kissing wasn’t that great. Scorpio set a terrible example. However, at nineteen, I was more concerned about his liking of me.
“Well, I have a lot of homework to do, but this was fun.” Scorpio smiled.
“Let me know when you make it home safely.” I exited his car. I waited for his text, but never heard from him again. He blocked me. Scorpios are weird.
Virgo
In January, I met Virgo. My friend and I walked a mile in flat Converse shoes. We shared a can of White Claw, which numbed our senses to the harsh winter. We arrived at a big, white house engraved with Greek letters. Empty beer cans littered the lawn. A boy with floppy, blonde hair gestured for us to go inside. My friend grabbed my hand, pushing us into the crowd. The cocktail of body odor and beer produced a repulsive smell. I breathed through my nose to prevent myself from gagging. The music buzzed throughout our bodies. While I stood unmoving, my friend swayed to a Drake song. I couldn’t hear, but her lips read
“Just Dance,”
No matter how much my body wanted to move to the beat of Hotline Bling, it couldn’t. Among the crowd of white college students, I was the only black girl there. Not only that, I was a suburban black girl who couldn’t dance. I feared if I tapped my foot, the room would form a circle around me expecting exceptional dance moves. My friend stopped dancing, escorted me to a bar and asked the frat boy for two White Claws.
“Chug both of these,” she requested.
I did. We made our way back to the dance floor. Without inhibition, I swayed my body to the music, the room swaying with me. From a blurred vision, I caught a glimpse of Virgo, the only brown boy in the house — a rarity to see at a frat party in Columbia, Missouri. Virgo was gorgeous. He was lanky and tall. Virgo’s black shaggy hair stopped just below his dark brown eyes. He stood in a corner by himself, blending in with the darkness of the room. Virgo wore all black, from his hat to his shoes. Virgo looked above everyone in the room. He had a sense of superiority or rather a disingenuous confidence. My estrangement translated into insecurity while he masked his with pride. Regardless of his facade, I thought Virgo was attractive. So, I mustered all the liquid courage inside of me, marched up to him and yelled.
“You are really cute,” the rap music muted my words.
“What?” Virgo yelled. I projected louder.
“I said, you are really cute.”
“Oh, thank you.” Virgo didn’t return the compliment. Before I turned to leave from an unspoken rejection, Virgo said, “Give me your number.”
I stumbled over my other foot, hoping he’d ignore my drunken clumsiness. I struggled to type in the numbers onto his phone. Virgo gently took the phone from my hand and laughed. I told him my number. He saved it, along with sending me a text of his name. Probably, so I’d remember in the morning.
I looked at him and smiled, providing nothing but silence. After a brief moment of awkward stares, Virgo said
“314 area code? Are you from St. Louis?” he questioned.
“Yeah,” I screamed.
“Me too,” he responded.
“Oh my god. Are you serious? Oh my god.” I covered my mouth in shock. My friend walked over and grabbed my shoulder.
“Stop staring at him like that.” She screamed into my ear.
I continued to stare at Virgo, hoping he’d gaze into my eyes and fall in love like I’d fallen in love with him. My friend dragged me into the middle of the dance floor where I proceeded to stare at Virgo. I followed Virgo to the staircase, where he sat and talked to his frat brothers. I took every opportunity to stare at him, to burn his face into memory. My friend snatched my phone from my jacket pocket.
“Here,” she brought the phone close to her face and quickly typed. “If you think he’s so cute. I’ll text him for you.”
I was too drunk to comprehend the situation. The boy with floppy blonde hair approached my friend and me.
“Are you guys okay? Can I call you guys an Uber?” He asked, stroking his clammy hands through his greasy hair.
“Do you guys have a bed? I need to lay down” I stumbled over my feet and covered my mouth, forcing myself to ingest the puke I wanted to let out. The blonde boy laughed.
“You can come to my room upstairs.” He responded.
My friend flipped off the blonde boy while dragging me out of the house.
“That works,” I yelled back to him.
My flirtatious reciprocation was caused by Virgo. He bruised my ego. On the walk back to the dorm hall, I let out an uncontrollable cry. Added Virgo to the list of men to cry about whenever I drink too much. My friend laid me on the bed where I curled into a ball on the floor. I cried, puked and then fell asleep.
The following morning, I would wake up with a pounding headache and dry bile stiffened to my hair and face. I didn’t remember much. Yet, I remembered Virgo. Oh, he was very beautiful.
“Too bad I scared him off. Our children would’ve been gorgeous,” I told my friend.
“Well, I texted him from your phone. See if he texts you back,” she shrugged.
In the early afternoon, I got a message from Virgo. It was a selfie with a text message,
“How are you feeling after last night?”
I stared at the picture. Traced his sharp jawline with my finger. I wanted to curate the perfect message, that would make him want me the way I wanted him.
“Virgo is cute as fuck.” I replied.
“Thank you.” He responded. Again, he didn’t return the compliment.
Until the evening, we texted. He was a sophomore, studying business at Mizzou. I was a year older than Virgo. Though I wasn’t usually fond of men my age or younger, Virgo was an outlier. Virgo wasn’t religious. Yet, his parents practiced Hinduism. So, he grew up vegetarian. Virgo complained about the dining hall at Mizzou. I told Virgo about the unlimited vegetarian options at Taco Bell.
“We should hang out.” Virgo messaged.
“Sure, what would you like to do,” I responded.
“You choose,” Virgo requested.
“How about a movie night,” I suggested. This would be a great way to get to know each other. We would be free from outside distractions.
“That works,” Virgo responded. “We would have to do it at your place, my roommate's girlfriend is over.”
“Okay, great.”
“I’ll be there around 8:30ish,” Virgo messaged.
I cleaned my room. Took a hot shower. I put on a full face of makeup. I threw on a sports bra with sweatpants. The clock read 8:45 pm. Virgo sent a message, here. It read. I opened the door to my dorm and rushed him to my room. He sat on the gray futon, facing the mounted flat screen.
“So, what would you like to watch?” I scrolled mindlessly on Netflix.
“That’s your decision.” Virgo withdrew a vape from his pocket. “Are you okay with this?” He asked,
“If you tell me what we should watch,” I gave him a knowing smile.
“Breaking Bad,” he brought the vape to his lips and puffed out a milky white cloud. I sat on the futon, next to Virgo, but not too close.
“You were pretty drunk that night,” Virgo said.
“Yeah, I don’t remember much. I couldn’t tell, were you drinking?” I asked Virgo. He looked at me.
“Nah, I’d never let anyone see me like that.” He said.
I didn’t know what to say to Virgo’s critical comment. I kept my eyes glued to the TV. I felt his hand snake around my shoulder, he drew me in closer to him. My head rested on his chest. Virgo nodded his head fervently, congratulating himself for his suave movement. Soon after, he lifted my chin, drawing me in close for a kiss. I reciprocated with fervor and Virgo did the same. Our lips were in a passionate wrestle. I let Virgo win and steadily pulled back, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. We smiled, stared at each other.
“I feel like you can see into my soul right now,” Virgo said.
“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.
“Nah,” he went in for another kiss which turned into another passionate wrestle where both opponents were fueled by an unbridled attraction. Virgo pulled away this time, allowing me to win. He looked at his phone. The time read 12:00 am.
“Do you have to leave now?” I asked.
Virgo smiled and shook his head no. His hand reached towards my hair, grabbed one of my braids.
“I like your hair,” he said.
My hand then reached towards his black and silky hair, “I like your hair too.”
“Thank you,” Virgo said. “So do you want to take this over there?”
Virgo motioned towards the twin-sized bed. From his pocket, he withdrew a square plastic wrapper.
“Is that a condom?” My face twinged from anger and disgust. Maybe Virgo just saw me as an easy lay. His first impression of me was an inebriated girl vying for his attention.
“Uh…yeah. Is that a red flag?” Virgo questioned.
I didn’t respond. I still liked Virgo. After tonight, I liked Virgo even more. Virgo tried to alleviate the tension by bringing his lips to my neck. Before his lips trailed down to my collarbone, I exerted a gentle push.
“Hey, I’m not ready,” My face got hot, and wells of tears formed in my eyes. I didn’t dare blink. I didn’t want Virgo to see me cry. I didn’t want to scare Virgo away. Until dawn, we stared at the flatscreen, the bright light burning our eyes. Our bodies sat inches away from each other. Every now and then, I’d feel Virgo’s side stare and his unspoken apology. I wondered if he was scared to leave. After suggesting to fuck me and then turning him down, Virgo probably felt obligated to stay long enough to conceal the fact that he just wanted to hang out for convenient sex. Virgo looked at his phone. The time read, 5:00 am.
“Well, I should probably head out.”
“Yeah, I’m getting pretty tired,” I said.
I walked Virgo to his car and told him to text me when he made it home safely.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Virgo stared at the gravel.
“No, you’re fine. Bye, Virgo,”
I tried to lower my head. So, my eyes could see his before parting ways. Virgo looked everywhere else except at me. He stepped into his Honda and waved goodbye. I walked to my dorm room. Once I was in the confines of privacy, I didn’t resist the shame and guilt. I let out a long, tumultuous cry and swaddled myself with a blanket. Interrupting my sulk was a text from Virgo,
“Hey. Made it home safely. Goodnight.”
“Good night,” I replied and then continued to cry.
Virgo didn’t think highly of me. Though, I didn’t think highly of myself either. On the first date, I invited Virgo to my dorm room. Of course, he expected sex. However, the condom was highly offensive. I hate to admit I’d rather him be sorry than safe. I wondered if I wasn’t Virgo’s type. Columbia, Missouri had an abundance of blonde sorority girls. With Virgo being the only brown boy in a white frat, dating a black girl would put his social standing in jeopardy. I tried to swallow that possibility, that the pigment of my skin ruled me out as an option for him to take seriously. Yet, I was hot enough to fuck for a night. At least, I should be proud of that. Despite the emotional turmoil Virgo sparked, I still really liked him. After I was done sulking, I made it my mission to prove Virgo wrong. I wasn’t a convenient fuck. I wasn’t a dispenser of his suppressed lust. If I could convince Virgo I’m worthy, just maybe I’d trick myself into believing it too.