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Jerk
We met during registration and, sure, I thought he was pretty cute and all. He looked a little conservative with that short hair but he has these great eyes and, under the dorky clothes, I could tell that his bod was primo. And he was even nice. I don't mean nice like some geeks are, nice and awkward and all tongue-tied; he was nice, hold the door for you you nice, bring you flowers nice, could actually form full sentences nice.
Anyway, it was the day after Labor Day, registration and we were both on the end of this really long line to sign up for the required English Comp class. I guess I'd overslept because of my stupid brother snoring all night and getting no sleep and he said something about having to straighten out some housing thing he had going on. Anyway, we both got locked out the class because it was full so we were told that we'd have to try to get the professor to sign off to let us in, if he'd sign and there was no guarantee he would.
So we walked over to the English Department together and found the prof in his office, threw ourselves on his mercy and talked him into letting us into the section we needed. He wasn't happy about it, though, kept saying how we'd better turn in some primo papers to make up for the special treatment and that we'd better not expect it in the future. He added something about hating to teach freshman, real snark and so when Dick and I finally were finished and outside we ended up bursting out laughing.
"What a jerk."
"Seriously anal."
"This is only one semester, right?"
"Yes, thank god."
"So, I guess I'll see you in class."
"I guess so." That was that but I figured that I'd see him in class and around campus and I didn't want to seem like I was too interested too soon, right?
Registration finished, I hit the book store to get my books and ran into him again since he was doing the same thing. God, he was cute. "I can't believe how much these things cost; it's such a racket."
He nodded but I'd seen him pull out a platinum card to pay so I guess that maybe he came from some money. Either that or he came from one of those families with some serious debt. Boy, was I wrong about that but I don't want to get ahead of myself.
I saw the looks he was getting and figured why let a good one get away so I kind of took the initiative.
"If you're not busy when we're through here, would you like to get coffee or something?" He didn't look surprised that I'd asked him, just kind of smiled and we were walking across the cut to the cafeteria, hauling our new books with us.
"Lori Elton."
He shook his head like he was embarrassed. "'Sorry; Dick Grayson. 'Good to meet you, Lori. Where are you from?"
"Here, New Carthage; 'you?"
"Gotham, well Brixton, one of the suburbs. So you live at home or are you staying in one of the dorms?"
"Home. It's cheaper." I know I sounded like a spoiled brat but I'd kill to be able to live at the school and get out of the house, It's not that I don't love my parents, I do. It's just that, you know, living at home blows and it's like only being sort of in college. "You're in Henderson?" It was the freshman dorm, everyone stayed there.
"I was going to but I'm over in a boarding house over on Prince Street." He sort of shrugged. "It's okay."
"Why? And Prince is two miles from campus, how do you get to class, bike?"
"Usually and why aren't I in the dorm?"
I nodded.
"'Wasn't my idea. 'You want coffee?"
"Tea." I started to get up but he shook his head.
"I'll get it."
I watched him get the drinks and two things stood out. First of all he wasn't as shy or intimidated as freshmen usually, especially in the first few days and he'd changed the subject; I wondered why he wasn't in the dorms, it was a requirement unless you lived in town (thanks a lot). Next, like I said, he dressed really well, conservative, but really well. His clothes looked like anyone's until you noticed that everything he wore was top of the line except his jeans; they were standard Levi's. He had money, it was obvious. And the living off campus thing was telltale, I just wasn't sure what it was telling me. Either he really hated living communally, snored, was anti-social or was maybe hiding something. Okay, okay, I know, I was letting my imagination run away with me but seriously; this wasn't standard stuff.
"'Sorry for the wait." He put down the two cardboard cups and gestured back to the line for the cashier, half the school looked like they were getting coffee.
"So are you doing your own cooking, too?"
"No, meal plan. I'm not allowed to cook where I'm staying."
"So you have to come here whenever you get hungry?"
He sipped his coffee. "I can eat at any of the cafeterias, including the ones in the dorms." He looked around the room, it looked like he was checking out everyone there and, dammit, he was bored with me already!
"If you're don't have any plans, would you like to come over for dinner?" That got his attention.
"At your house?"
No, in the swamp. "Uh-huh." Good thing he was a looker.
"Um..."
"C'mon, what else would you be doing, unpacking?"
He half laughed and nodded. "I have to get my room set up, get on line and all of that stuff but, if it's all right with you, I could take a break to eat."
"Perfect. Say Six-thirty? Here's my address."
He really smiled this time. "Great, 'see you at six-thirty."
He was exactly on time, the clock was striking when he rang the bell and he was even carrying flowers which he presented to my mother with a complete lack of anything other than this was just what you do when you go over to someone's house for dinner. Mom was, of course, totally won over on the spot.
And that's how it started. It was that simple; we were officially dating.
He told me about his parents being dead and being sort of adopted by Bruce Wayne on our third date and, boy, was that a kick in the head. Orphaned, his parents murdered in front of him when he was like eight or nine years old? Talk about horrible. He didn't talk about it much and who can blame him, right? But it was just sort of there in the background, at least for me and it was weird getting past it. I guess I expected him to be seriously screwed up by it but he wasn't—or at least he didn't seem to be. He seemed like the most normal, grounded person on the entire planet and maybe that was what was the weirdest thing about him.
He was just so incredibly well adjusted and nothing seemed to throw him, no matter what happened. He was always calm, reasonable and easy-peasy with everything. It was almost creepy.
He hardly ever swore or anything. Okay, he had the normal number of hormones but he didn't make a big deal about anything. At first I though that growing up with Bruce Wayne he was probably used to naked women swinging from the chandelier during breakfast but, I don't know, maybe that's why he was sort of reserved about the whole sex thing. Then he told me that he'd grown up, at least until he was like nine or something, with a traveling circus and I guess I figured that, you know, being surrounded by all those show business people that it must have been pretty wide open, if you know what I mean. That's what I thought at first, anyway, before I found out that he was raised by his parents to be this nice Catholic boy—but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself again. I'll start at the beginning.
So we started dating.
Like I said, he was a real gentleman but a gentleman who has hormones and everything was going just fine. We'd go to dinner or a movie, had some study dates and he even went shopping with me. When he took me home or I had to go to class or something we'd kiss and stuff, but that was about as far as it went for weeks.
I was starting to get frustrated, let me tell you.
I even began to wonder if he was, you know, like that. I didn't really believe it but I wondered at first.
Okay, I admit it, I'd already done the deed with my old boyfriend back in high school but I started to wonder about Dick and finally—we were up in his room at that boarding house (door opened because of the anal landlady, I mean, cripes!)—making out on his bed and I asked him if he, you know, wanted to keep going (like it would happen there. Not.) and he kind of hesitated and said that he'd like that but then he stopped and got up and made some lame excuse about having to work on an econ paper. I was ready to start taking cold showers.
The other thing that was kind of strange. Maybe it's not but, I don't know—he as always just kind of disappearing. I don't mean like poof in a flash of smoke or anything like that but we'd go out to dinner or a movie or something and he'd be gone.
When it first started happening I thought that he was ditching me, that he had a better offer but I really don't think that was it.
Probably not, anyway.
I know he finished his classes on Wednesday at 2:30, as soon as he was done with Poli Sci he was done for the day but try to find him—good luck. At first I thought it was because he was in the library or something like that but it wasn't; he was just gone. Then I started to think that he was two-timing me but I really don't think that was it, either.
And I know he wasn't going to a job, right? And this happened almost every day. Monday he'd disappear after class ended at 3:45. Tuesday after 1:30, Thursday he didn't have any classes but it was almost impossible to find him and on weekends? 'A will o'the wisp. He'd turn up without warning with this big innocent act or some story about having to go to Gotham because Bruce wanted him for whatever.
Then, still with no warning he'd be around, sort of like he'd had some big project (that he never told me about) and was finished until next time.
Explain it? Not likely. Weird and annoying. I even wondered if he was doing something illegal, selling drugs or something but it just didn't seem to add up with him. Dick was just so the last person in he world to be doing something he shouldn't.
But getting back to our dates.
He was nice, right? 'Opened doors, brought me flowers sometimes and always paid when we went out someplace. This is all good. Then, after we'd had dinner or the movie was over we'd, you know, we'd make out for a while and he was like he wanted to keep going but he was always the one who stopped and it was getting pretty frustrating, believe me. That's when I kind of guessed that he was 'inexperienced', if you know what I mean. I asked and he admitted it. I think he was embarrassed, which was stupid but there you go.
Excuse me? Okay, that's when I seriously started wondering about what team he bats for, if you know what I mean.
This kind of thing happened a few times and finally I just decided to ask him straight out if I was wasting my time or what. We were in the park, just taking a walk for an hour or so that we had between classes. He seemed quieter than usual. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Oh, they're worth more than that." He laughed. It wasn't that good a joke but it was better than nothing, I guess.
"A dollar?"
"That's more like it."
"...Well?" We walked another fifty yards or so before he said anything and then it was like pulling teeth. And I could hardly hear him.
"The thing is—I'd like to, I'd really like to but I've never, you know—I've never done it before."
"It?"
"...Yeah."
"Oh—it."
"Yeah, that it." Another few steps and then it all sort of came out in a rush, like if he stopped he might lose his nerve. "I know everyone thinks that because I grew up with Bruce I've been sleeping with girls since I was like ten or something but it's not like that. I mean, I've wanted to and I guess I've had some chances that I didn't do anything with because I never wanted to just 'get laid', if that makes any sense. I always wanted it to be more than just getting off." He looked over at me and I have to admit that I was kind of surprised. I guess I'd just assumed that he had lots of experience.
I guess I assumed wrong.
And that's one of the things about him that just didn't seem to add up. I don't mean to sound like Miss Suspicious or anything but, seriously, Bruce Wayne's ward a virgin? Seriously? With his looks and that body?
I guess it's possible but what are the odds, right?
I guess it was my duty or responsibility to help him out, right? My friend Jennifer has this theory that everyone is allotted one virgin and Dick was mine.
I had a duty and my duty I did.
Saturday night, our regular date night and Dick came by for dinner with my parents. They love him, by the way. My mom is always going on about how smart he is, how handsome and blah, blah, blah. I know she isn't thinking about what a great catch he is but, okay, I admit it—it had crossed my mind once or twice. Anyway, we finished the chicken and baked potatoes, ate the pie he brought from the local bakery and headed out to 'get some air'.
He loves that stupid motorcycle of his and I think part of it is that he knows how much Bruce hates it. Dick is like the perfect son but once in a while he kind of rebels and I think that this is one of his ways. I'm pretty much okay with that. His relationship with Bruce is his business, right? Anyway, he's a good driver and we ended up at the falls on a warm night and no one around.
There was a blanket, a throw in his saddlebag and the moon was almost full. Things started getting heated up and I half expected him to stop, give his usual excuse about having a paper to due or a test to study for but, to my surprise, he didn't and after about twenty minutes he asked me if I was using any kind of protection. I'm on the pill, which I think he knew but he just kind of nodded and reached over for a condom, also in his saddle bag.
"You were planning this, weren't you?"
"Maybe a little." He half laughed and I guess he knew I wasn't surprised (neither of us were) and—okay, I'm not going to get into the gory details but yeah, we all know what happened next, don't we?
So what was he like? You're wondering, aren't you? I suppose about what you'd expect. He was nervous, a little hesitant and worried that he'd hurt me (he didn't). Then afterward he was sweet, kissed me, held me and made sure that I wasn't cold—we were outside, remember? And did I mention his body? Incredible. Okay, I knew he wasn't a walking piece of flab and back fat but, damn! That boy had some serious muscle action going on under those uptight sweater vests.
Then we did it again.
I'm not sure but I think that he may have been blushing when he took me home. Or not. I know he was smiling.
So after that I guess he thought that maybe he needed practice; it makes perfect, right? So we practiced a lot. Really a lot. Every time we had an actual date—I don't mean just meeting up for coffee between classes, though that worked, too, sometimes—he'd want to practice.
And that boy seriously believed in learning all he could is all I can say
God bless him.
But there was still a major weird side to Dick and I don't mean that as a bad joke. I'd call his room to make sure that we were still on about something and I couldn't get through to him. I'd try his cell, his e-mail his IM and nothing. It was like he'd vanish into thin air and, at first I thought that he was two-timing me. He's smart, rich and major handsome; it's not like it was an impossibility, right?
But the more I thought about it, it didn't seem to add up. It just didn't seem like him; he's like a boy scout about most things.
So, yeah—frustrated and a whole lot confused.
Okay, for a while I just figure he'd gotten what he wanted and was moving on, if you know what I mean. 'Like my grandmother would say; he'd gotten the milk and didn't have to buy the cow, right? But then he'd call me all apologetic and sorry and want to go to a movie or out to dinner and show up with flowers and it was sort of psychotic, okay? If it had happened once or twice no big deal but every week?
I was getting whiplash.
And that was another thing. One day, I think it was Parents' Weekend or something, Bruce Wayne showed up unexpectedly with an English butler in tow. He brought his butler? Seriously? Dick didn't expect them—we had plans—and so he pulled a one-eighty and had to play host and good son. I tagged along for the campus tour and lunch and got the distinct impression that Mr. Wayne was underwhelmed by his ward's girlfriend. Oh, he was perfectly polite but it was sort of clear that he saw me as a stop gap and entertaining piece on the side to keep Dick occupied when he took a break from his studies.
I mean, bite me, right?
I admit it, all right? It was getting on my nerves; all the secrecy, the disappearances, the attitude from his 'family'. But he was still really sweet when he decided to be, I mean really sweet.
Another thing; he didn't seem to have that many friends. Okay, maybe he really was studying a lot and he didn't live on campus so that makes a difference, but he always seemed to be off by himself somewhere. I know he never mentioned many friends, never seemed to have anyone visit and never went away for weekends—unless you call his disappearing without warning. It got tired fast, believe me.
And then, the final straw, remember when a student was shot and killed in class? It was all over the news and it was completely horrible. He was sitting right next to me when he was hit and his blood splattered all over me—he died in my arms for god's sake and you know what Dick did? Of course you do, he pulled his frigging disappearing act again, left right in the middle of people screaming and hiding and police sirens and everything.
Jackass.
Thank god Dave Corby was there to lend a should for me top lean on. I'd seen him around campus, we shared a couple of classes and he always struck me as kind of quiet, a jock and probably not the brightest bulb on the tree but that day he was wonderful and I suppose I saw him in a kind of different light—the anti-Grayson light. He was concerned, sweet, attentive and cared about not just me but the kids who were hurt; he was the one who called 911, talked to the police and calmed everyone down.
Dick? Mr. I'm Somewhere Else? I didn't even see him for an hour and then he had one of his lame excuses when I know he was probably just hiding to save his precious ass.
That was it. That was the end of the line and I didn't care if I never saw him again. Ever. I'd have been just as happy of he'd been the one to get killed and yes, I know how terrible that sounds. I don't care, I didn't care right then. I told him flat out that we were finished.
He kind of just looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language—which I probably was as far as he was concerned. Someone dumping Dick Grayson? Impossible!
Uh-huh. He was history and Dave was in before the ink was even dry on our nonexistent divorce.
Just about the same time there was a costumed bad guy hanging around campus, some clown who had some kind of flying jets-packs attached to his back. He mostly seemed to have it in for Robin. Who, rumor insisted was a Hudson student but, c'mon—Robin going to Hudson? He could have done so much better than that so I never bought it. But anyway, they spent a couple of weeks around school duking it out looking like a couple of dogs fighting to be alpha. Whatever.
The stupid fight went back and forth for a few days, we'd see them fighting above the campus with Robin seeming to get the short end of the stick. It happens, I guess but I don't think anyone thought that he'd lose in the end. Face it, if he was about to really concede to Raven (that was the bad guy's name) you know he'd just call in his friends and before you knew it the Titans or the JLA or Bat-frigging-man would be there to pull his nuts out of the fire. Sure enough, just about the fourth day or whatever of the ongoing fight Robin won the final round, Raven was bested, disappeared and that was that until the next weirdo showed up.
A day or two later Dave and I were on our way to history when Dick showed up, itching for a fight—like we hadn't had enough of that, thank you. He'd tried to call me a few times; okay, he did call me but by that point screw him, okay? He'd disappeared when I needed him and then acted like, golly gosh, he was really busy helping. Uh-huh. Sure you were, loser.
I was shouting at him, at Dick, to lay off, to leave us alone and just go away but, of course, he didn't listen, just kept at Dave and wouldn't let up. Finally I took out my phone to call security but just as I was calling Dick accused Dave of being Raven—even asked if Dave thought that he believed that everyone was too dumb to know that a corby is a raven? He got in Dave's face, was incredibly nasty to me and ended up punching Dave hard enough to lay him out—jerk.
Well, crap.
Naturally, it turned out that Dick was right, that he'd talked to Robin and so he knew the inside deal and, yeah, Dave was working with some crime syndicate because he needed money for school. And that's another thing about Dick; he knows everyone or can get a hold of them or knows their best friend or something. He has to be the most connected person on the planet.
Okay, but that was Robin who'd done all the hard work and Dick who was the jerk, even if he was still incredibly handsome and was nicer to me than any other guy I'd ever gone out with when he wasn't being an idiot.
So Dick was majorly pissed and walked away but I figured that I could talk to him and make him see my side of things—I mean, I did have a side that made a lot of sense but he wouldn't accept delivery. I called him, went to his boarding house, left him notes both in his mailbox and at the school of business but he wouldn't give me the time of day. He cut me off completely and I really think that was a shitty thing to do, okay? Mr. Perfect never made a mistake? He never got upset about something?
That was that. The next thing I heard was that he was seeing some blond hottie and then about ten minutes after that I heard that he'd dropped out of school and was just sitting around in Bruce's mansion trying to decide what to do next, poor dear.
I know, he wasn't that bad and, frankly, in a lot of ways he was pretty much the best but—and there's always a 'but', isn't there...and speaking of which, yes, his was primo; his butt, I mean. Anyway, it's all water under the bridge, I guess. That was then and this is now.
I hear about him sometimes, usually though the gossip rags in the hair place when I'm getting a trim. He's still single, there was an article saying that he was living in Bludhaven, of all places and that someone insists that he's studying to become a cop in the academy down there but, seriously, Dick Grayson a cop? Bruce would have a coronary then fund a new cardiac wing at some hospital.
Dave is still in prison and it looks like he'll be there for a while.
I'm job hunting. I guess my parents were right and a degree in Medieval Studies isn't what anyone could call employment insurance.
I still think about Dick once in a while. Every time I wear that string of pearls he gave me, when I'm driving near Gotham or see Bruce in the papers. I wonder if he ever thinks about me but I kind of doubt it. He never seemed all that sentimental and I think he kind of lives in the moment, doesn't look back all that much. I guess that makes sense if part of your 'back' is seeing your parents get killed but he misses out on good stuff that way.
I was wondering a few weeks ago what I'd do if Dick called or showed up at my door, got down on bended knee and said he realized that he'd made a huge mistake and would I pleasepleaseplease do him the honor or being his wife, have his children, cook his dinner (or hire the chef, anyway)? Would I please just take him back, give him another chance? And, most of all, he knows that I was and will always be the best he'll ever have, both in and out of the sack.
So that would be a no if it ever happened, though I might offer him a damp sponge t wipe the dirt off of his knees. There's still too much about him that's stupid.
And he doesn't know what he lost.
Jerk.
9/5/10