A different story (Chance, 1.7)

November 2008

my life can be summed up like this:





he may be anywhere from 23 to 25. I put his age at 24. I can see some of the resemblance to his brothers. Luke is rather stout and has that distinct look of someone who spends a good amount of his time indoors being a nerd. Chandler is… well, Chandler. sculpted features and dazzling dark eyes. Chance is sort of a compromise.

at some point that night, he was lying with his head in my lap and I was staring at him and suddenly it hit me that he was gorgeous — sort of rugged and older looking with really intense dark eyes. at that moment he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

later on I came down and through normal eyes he was cute, just not spectacular the way he was when that one glance drew all the air out of my lungs. I can’t find him online (though it’s true I haven’t looked that hard) so I tried to recreate him from my memory, sketching him in my notebook in blue pen.

I will likely never see him again 😉 he has a very nice body it is true and I dig the bandana he wears. in addition he is very funny, witty, intelligent and profound, and his personality is the type I’m drawn to — as Ali explained it, he’s an alpha male, always the dominant one in his house and among his friends. he’s quick to get poker-facedly, monotoned-ly aggressive if he feels threatened

this very masculine personality also carries over to the way he treats women — courteous, chivalrous and considerate, but never in the pansy way of guys who make the error of being too sensitive and hesitant because they’re afraid to offend the girl or do something she doesn’t want. there’s definitely that aggressive, dominant aspect to the way Chance approaches females.

it’s nice to finally see some confidence in a guy who isn’t a total jerk.


Chance didn’t call that night.

He didn’t call the next night, either — or the next. It was like a rollercoaster — I was way up high, hovering, hovering, then starting to fall, and then I was plummeting. I kept my phone in my hand, waiting for it to buzz, checking the screen even if it didn’t. I couldn’t focus on my classes or the campus paper, of which I was now an editor.

I’d been had, I realized. As special as I thought the night had been, the ugly reality was that it was just a typical, sleazy one-night stand. Why had I expected anything else?

Then , Wednesday night — deadline night for the campus paper — I was in the newsroom, when my phone rang. On the caller ID was the name John.

John, as you may recall, was Chance’s roommate. My heart started going really fast. I picked up the phone.

“Hello?” My voice came out sounding high and inquisitive.

“Hi,” said Chance’s husky, quizzical voice.

“Hi,” I said as if I didn’t know who it was.

“It’s Chance,” he said.

“Okay,” I said.

“I was wondering… if you would like to come over tonight,” he said, playfully formal, enunciating clearly.

“Yes,” I said promptly.

So much for playing it cool.

He gave me directions back to his place, and after I was off deadline, I headed over. At his place, John greeted me warmly, without batting an eye although he had seen me emerge from Chance’s room a couple mornings ago. He and Chance were watching a movie.

I sat not on the couch, but on the floor — another small declaration, just like when I hadn’t taken my shoes off when I lay down for the massage. I wanted to assert to Chance and myself that I was making no assumptions, that I was perfectly content to be free and independent over here, while Chance was over there.

On the other hand I was also trying to impress Chance with how unconventional I was (sitting on the floor instead of a chair) so you decide how independent I actually was.

At first it was a little awkward, but soon we were talking comfortably. I learned that Chance worked at a pizza shop (I didn’t know how to take this — I’d never actually been friends with someone whose job had been at a restaurant rather than an office or a lab). I learned that he’d been in the Army, and that he had lived in Hawaii and loved it there more than anywhere else in the world. He learned a little bit about my classes and the books I liked to read. “You have a good head on your shoulders,” he told me.

Soon the warmth and the sparks were flowing back and forth between us, as they had been a few nights ago. At some point John went to bed, and Chance stood up too. “I would like to invite you to stay over,” he said, extending his hand, in the same playfully formal tone he’d had on the phone.

“I would like to accept,” I said, taking his hand.

In his room, he lay down on the left side of the bed, and I lay down on the right, not touching him. For a few minutes, neither of us moved and I was stricken with panic — that he wasn’t as interested as I’d thought, that this whole thing was just going to get really awkward.

Then Chance said in a light, teasing tone, “There’s a window of sixty seconds, if you want to kiss me.”

I rolled over and kissed him, and that was night two.


November 2008

coming back from Albany last week, I was falling apart — there was this massive energy pushing at my seams and I felt like I was going to fly apart in a million different directions.

the whole time on the bus, I had my arms wrapped around my stomach and was rocking back and forth to stay grounded and hold myself together. when the bus arrived in town, it was dark. I stepped off and the cold and the rain were jarring — they hit me like a sack of bricks and I found myself taking huge gulps of the icy air like a person almost suffocated, walking fast and crying with relief and frustration.

Ali was home and as soon as I came through the door she could see things were very wrong. she gave me a hug. I told her I thought something was happening cosmically; everything was being shaken up. I couldn’t kick that feeling of intense restlessness. I went out for a ride on my bike and it helped a little to calm me down, but not much.

it was just like the week before, when I was sitting through a four-hour shift in the writing center and ended up feeling physically ill from all the energy coursing through my body with nowhere to go.

it’s that feeling of endless potential and being trapped in a single moment while wanting to realize everything at once. it’s the opposite of the attacks that used to plague me before… when all I’d want to do was curl up in blankets and not do anything.

two days after that first reckless attack, I met Eben. a few days ago, about a week after the second attack on the bus, I met Andy. yesterday, I met Chance.

Eben is leaving (and I’m not his type), and Pete I haven’t gotten a complete read on yet.

now Chance is a different story.


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