Stella attempts to play it cool.

"Uggghhhh, I am never getting this fucking paper done," I groaned. I was down to about sixteen hours until my final essay was due for class, and I was getting nowhere with it. The class was European History, and the essay, which I'd been making no progress on all week, was to analyze arguments and practices concerning religious toleration from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, based on a bunch of snippets from what I assumed were musty old books. I know I mentioned before that science was my thing - specifically, biology - so it was hard for me to muster much enthusiasm for history, especially pre-World War II history. I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes.

Marie came tearing out of the house, but the heat and humidity stopped her like a brick wall. "How can you work out here?"

"Your mother is Puerto Rican, for fuck's sake! It seems like a tolerance for heat should be in your genes," I replied. "I think being outside helps me concentrate." Although it was obviously not helping at all today.

"Anyway, I've got great news!" she crowed. "The guys are coming over again!"

"You mean Daryl and Jimmy?" We hadn't seen them for a couple of days, and I'd assumed that that little encounter was over. I was grateful not to have an encore for my embarrassment, even though it was apparent that Marie was majorly disappointed. "Both of them are coming over?" She nodded. "Why would Daryl even bother? I guess he must like to fight off the advances of a horny college girl or something," I muttered, slamming my book shut with irritation.

Marie had a slightly guilty look on her face. "Wellll, Daryldoesn'thaveacarrightnow soheandJimmyrideheretogether," she said, trying to get it over with quickly. Just as rapidly, she added, "But look at it as another opportunity to show Daryl what he's missing!"

"Oh, that sounds like loads of fun," I grumbled. "What's the point of that?"

"If nothing else, you can prove him wrong about calling you a kid," she pointed out. "Act like it doesn't bother you, water under a bridge and all that shit. Just make sure you look stunning when you do it. And you know I'm just the person to help you out with that."

Marie was generally pretty nuts, but every so often, she had what I had to admit was a good idea. Of course, as good as her plan was, I was the biggest liability. "So when he says shit about my age, I can't go off on him? What if I say something totally embarrassing again?"

She sighed. "You laugh it off! Act like it was a joke! You are a pro at that usually."

"Yeah, but something about this guy gives me fucking scrambled brains." I frowned, then looked at my open laptop. "And what about his goddamn essay? I have to have it to the professor by ten tomorrow! My dad paid good money to get me into this class; he's going to be super-pissed if I don't get a decent grade."

Marie just shrugged. This was one area of my life that she never could fathom: why money was such a big deal. She came from a securely upper-middle-class family and couldn't seem to grasp what it was like to struggle. "You're a brilliant chicky," she said. "You'll come up with something. Now come on."

0000000

I was tapping away on my laptop agai, after having gone through another one of Marie's makeovers. As her roommate, I was subjected to them on a pretty regular basis, with her frequently marveling at my inability to dress myself appropriately. This time she had outfitted me in a navy blue, knee length knit dress that had a deep V in the front and back. I'm sure she filled it out a lot better than my skinny ass did, but I did feel pretty damn cute. I still had my bikini on underneath because Marie advised me that a dive in the pool might be a graceful exit for any uncomfortable situations. "All he'll remember is your cute ass in a couple of inches of green spandex." Even though she gave me a hard time, she was a pro at building my confidence. Marie had pulled my hair back into a smooth ponytail, given me just a touch of waterproof mascara, and handed me a pair of silver earrings that were a chain of small hoops that brushed my neck every time I moved my head. Sipping a mojito, I felt pretty confident that, if nothing else, at least I looked good. In this particular area of expertise, Marie was a master.

My renewed sense of confidence seemed to have a stimulating effect on my brain, too, as I was suddenly able to string together some sentences for my essay, and then suddenly, I was looking at two full pages and was starting on a third. Only three more to go, I thought. I was actually so wrapped up in what I was writing that when I looked up and saw Daryl standing there staring at me, I jumped, knocking my glass over. Just laugh it off, I reminded myself as Daryl reached a hand out, smoothly catching the glass before it hit the deck. So I laughed, hoping like I sounded like I could care less that I'd just embarrassed the shit out of myself again with my clumsiness. "Jesus Christ, Daryl, you scared the hell out of me!"

He had that motherfucking ridiculous, goddamn sexy smirk on his face, "Sorry, I was just seein' how long it took you to notice me standin' here. Must be somethin' interestin' on your laptop there."

I could feel him staring at me from behind his sunglasses, and I suddenly felt very conspicuous, all dolled up like I was. Play it cool. Mopping up the rest of my drink with a towel, I was grateful that it hadn't gotten on my book or my precious laptop. It was kind of a beater at this point - a hand me down from a cousin - but it was all I had. "Not really. I have to write about religious tolerance in the sixteenth century for this class I'm taking."

As I was saying it, Daryl began to yawn involuntarily. "Shit, sorry. I really didn't do that on purpose," he said sheepishly. "Had a long day."

That made me laugh for real this time. "Want a drink?" As I went inside, I stopped to ask, "Where's Jimmy?"

Daryl chuckled. "Didn't even make it through the house."

Back out at the table with a couple of beers between us, I thanked him for bringing more. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, looked like you were gettin' a little low. I'm guessin' that y'all ain't quite old enough to get 'em yourself." While I tried to think of a witty response to that, he leaned in closer to study my face. Well, I assumed that was what he was doing. I couldn't exactly tell what was going on behind those sunglasses. "I'm thinkin'...nineteen."

"Twenty," I snapped, and then took a deep breath. "How old are you, old man? From the way you talk, I'm guessing you must be nearing forty."

Leaning back in his chair, Daryl lit a cigarette. "Twenty-nine."

Holy shit, the man is almost thirty. I played off my surprise, though. "Jesus, you act like you're on death's door or something." I noticed that the music had stopped, so I went over to where my iPod was plugged into its dock to pick something else out. "What do you like to listen to?" I called over to him, grateful to have an excuse to change the subject.

"Whatever's on. Classic rock, I guess. Y'know, Zepplin, the Stones, AC/DC. That kinda shit," he said noncommittally.

"Hmmm..." I didn't have any of those on my iPod, but the music geek in me started to get excited because I was going to get to play my favorite game: Matchmaker, Music Edition. My tastes ran mostly to indie bands but, if I do say so myself, I had a pretty high average of pairing a new band with a would-be listener. "Do you like the Beatles?"

"I'm a human being, ain't I?" he laughed. Damn, I love the sound of that laugh.

"OK, you might like these guys." I put on the newest Dr. Dog album. "They have kind of a classic rock sound, and the harmonies remind me of the Beatles." This was the hardest part of the matchmaker game for me because I had to force myself not to just sit there, staring expectantly at the new listener, waiting for a reaction. I heard my cell phone buzz with an incoming text message. Grabbing my phone, I saw that it was Marie: how's it going down there?

Me: fine. don't text & fuck.

Marie: lol. not fucking. yet. watching a movie. want to order indian food?

I looked up to see Daryl watching me. "Sorry, it's Marie. She says they're just watching a movie," I explained quickly, as his eyebrows shot skyward. "Do you like Indian food?"

"Uhhh, Indian? Like dot-not-feather? Never had it." From his tone, it didn't sound like he was very interested in changing that.

"Do you like spicy food?"

"Yeah."

"OK, well then today's your lucky day." I texted Marie: we're down for some indian. want me call it in? Marie said yes, giving me their orders, so I opened my laptop. "I don't know why she doesn't just do this. She's the one with the fucking iPhone," I complained good-naturedly to Daryl, even though I was thrilled that for all his "you're just a kid" bullshit, this was something I had on him that he'd never done before. Then a thought occurred to me. "Are you cool to drive? I have a car, but probably shouldn't be driving right now." I was far from drunk, but well into the buzzed stage.

"Yeah, sure." He looked down at his clothes, disheveled from working all day. "Might get your car kinda dirty though."

I grinned at him. "Trust me, it won't matter. When you see my car, you will understand just how much it doesn't matter. So on a scale of meh to fire-breathing dragon, how spicy do you want it?"

"Where does screamin' in pain fit in on the scale?"

"That would probably be a nine. I'll order it, but don't come crying to me when you burst into flames." I called in our order, taking the initiative to pick something for Daryl since, to my immense satisfaction, he had no idea what he was doing. I grabbed my purse and my iPod. "You ready?" I asked, handing him my car keys. We walked out to the street where my car was parked. I couldn't leave it in the driveway because it leaked oil, and I didn't want to stain the fancy finished concrete. It was a 13 year old Subaru station wagon that was probably more rust than steel at this point, held together with bumper stickers, duct tape, and coat hangers. But I had bought it with my own money, and I treasured that car.

Daryl laughed when he saw it. "This is your car? Thought somebody jus' left it here and hoped it'd be towed away."

"Shhhh! Don't say that too loud. You'll hurt her feelings!" I joked. It was blazing hot as we got in, despite the fact that I'd left all the windows down. "Sorry, no a/c. But we'll have music!" I had sprung for a new stereo so I was able to plug in my iPod. Must. Have. Music. "Oh, it's kinda hard to-" I began to tell him, but he was able to start it up with no problem. I kept the radio low on the drive to the restaurant so that I could read him the directions I jotted down. Even though he worked in this neighborhood every day, he clearly didn't spend too much time here otherwise.

"So how far do you live from here?" I asked him.

"'Bout a half hour," Daryl replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

I was suddenly possessed by an immense curiosity about his life. "Do you live in the city or out in the suburbs? Turn left at the next light."

"Edge of the suburbs, I guess. Share a place with my brother," he offered. Stopping at red light, he glanced over at me. "How 'bout you?"

I told him that when I wasn't in school, or house-sitting for Marie's rich relatives, I lived with my dad and two younger brothers in a suburb of Lexington. Then we pulled up to the restaurant, so I hopped out and got the food, gratefully accepting a ten from Daryl to pay for his dinner. Back in the car, the smell from the bags made my mouth water.

"Definitely does smell good, I'll give ya that," Daryl commented. "Guess college kids aren't much for cookin'?"

I winced at the word "kids" again. Apparently, I wasn't being too successful at making him forget about how much younger I was than him. Choosing to ignore my annoyance, as per Marie's directives, I told him, "I was the default chef in our family. I spent so much time in the kitchen when I was growing up, I'd be happy if I never had to cook again." I felt an edge of bitterness creep into my voice, so I finished lightly with, "I couldn't ever make anything this good anyway."

Daryl shot me a curious look but didn't pry. "So ya like Indian food. What other kinda crazy stuff do ya eat?" We spent the rest of the time in the car with me waxing rhapsodic about the exquisite deliciousness of sushi, Korean barbecue, and pasteles which were green bananas stuffed with this amazing pork filling that I'd had one time when I visited Marie at home. While he chuckled at my euphoric descriptions, I could tell he was genuinely impressed at my level of experience, at least where food was concerned, and that made me very, very happy.

0000000

"So what did you think?" I asked Daryl, after he finally quit sweating from the heat of his dinner. "I tried to warn him," I told Marie and Jimmy, "but he wouldn't listen."

Daryl took another swig of beer before he answered. "Dunno. I couldn't taste anythin' by th' end."

Marie suggested we go swimming and the guys were amenable to that, so while they went to change, Marie and I made some more drinks. Just one more, I thought to myself, and then I'll come in and finish that fucking essay. "So how's it going?" she whispered.

"How's what going?" I hissed back. "Sitting around talking to him? Because that's all that's going to happen tonight."

Marie looked like she was going to say something else, but Daryl emerged from the downstairs bathroom shirtless and wearing an old pair of shorts. I handed him another beer, and Marie and I just smiled as he went outside. "Ow, Marie! You're going to leave a fucking bruise!" She had her fingers digging into my wrist.

"Holy fucking shit. Did you see him? I have never, in my entire fucking life, seen arms like that!" she panted and took a giant swig of her drink. "Oh my God, you have got to bang that man." She continued to ogle him through the window. "Like a fucking screen door in a hurricane."

"Easier said than done, my dear," I replied ruefully. At that point, Jimmy had returned, so we took our drinks and headed out to the pool.

Marie and Jimmy got cozy at one end of the pool while Daryl and I sat a respectable distance away from each other at the other end. I was trying to keep my sunglasses on as long as possible because it would allow me to stare at the arms that Marie had just been drooling over, which he had stretched out along the edge of the pool.

"Hey Stella, can you change the music? Put on something more upbeat. Put on that MGMT album or something," Marie instructed me.

"You can't change the music?" I bitched at her.

"You're closer," she replied, so I sighed and got out and went to do her bidding. As I exited the pool, Marie said to the guys, "Stella's got a pretty fucking nice ass, doesn't she."

"Jesus Christ, Marie! Shut the fuck up!" I was so embarrassed, I was relieved that I couldn't see Jimmy's or especially Daryl's reaction to that. "Oh, you know what, there's no MGMT on here? Only My Morning Jacket!" Marie hated My Morning Jacket. I got back in the pool, glaring at her, and taking a big fat drink out of my glass so I could avoid looking at the guys.

We sat in stony silence for a few minutes until Marie grabbed Jimmy's hand and dragged him out of the pool. "C'mon, Jimmy. We can leave these two to their hippie jam band." She stuck out her tongue at me, and they went inside.

Daryl and I hung out there for a few minutes, continuing the silence. "Fuck, sorry about Marie," I said at the same time as Daryl commented, "I'm diggin' this music."

Well, that completely derailed my embarrassment. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's kinda cool for starin' up at the stars," Daryl said, his head tilted back. "Be good to listen to when you're high."

There is no bigger turn on to a music nerd than complimenting them on album that they picked out. I glowed with pleasure. "Yeah, that would be pretty awesome. Shit, I seriously have to write this fucking paper. I need to not even finish this drink," I told him, sucking down the dregs.

"You don't have to babysit me," Daryl said with a smirk.

"I've got plenty of time," I replied with a casualness that was totally fake. After a second, my sense of responsibility returned. "But yeah, I need to go finish that goddamn paper. Sorry." Daryl shrugged, smiling slightly. "You want to come inside and watch a movie or something? I can multi-task." Daryl said, sure, whatever, and got out of the pool. I went upstairs to get out of my wet bikini, trying to ignore the noises coming out of Marie's bedroom. I ended up back in shorts and a t-shirt, giving up the facade that Marie had created for me. Daryl was in the media room when I came down, back in dry clothes as well.

"Jesus Christ, never seen a room like this in someone's house before," Daryl commented, settling into the plush sectional. "This room is bigger than my whole fuckin' place."

"Yeah, me neither," I replied. "It's kinda ridiculous, but whatever." I checked out the massive selection of DVDs. "Can you narrow down what kind of movies you like? Adventure, comedy, horror, romance?" I asked, giving a goofy emphasis on the word "romance."

"Doesn't matter to me. Comedy, maybe?" Daryl suggested, yawning again.

I chuckled. "Are you even going to make it through a movie?" He shrugged. "Here, how about Shaun of the Dead. Comedy and horror all rolled into one."

"Sounds good." Daryl lay down on the couch, and I sat in the other corner, stretching out my legs and opening my laptop.

0000000

"Fuck dude, wake up. We gotta go." Jimmy was shaking Daryl's shoulder. I must have dozed off, too, because I was laying in the curve of the couch, my foot resting on Daryl's head. With a sleepy twinge of happiness, I realized Daryl's hand was closed around my ankle.

But that quickly ended as he sleepily sat up. "Whaaaat? What the fuck time is it? Where are we goin'?" Daryl asked, befuddled.

"It's like 2 a.m., dude," Jimmy told him.

"Can't we just crash here?" Daryl started to resettle himself on the couch. "I'm fuckin' tiiiiired."

"C'mon, man. Get the hell up. You know I need to get home." Jimmy flipped a light on, and I groaned and covered my eyes. "Sorry, Stella."

Daryl groaned and sat up. "Fuck, man." He finally got up. "See ya, College Girl" he said to me, turning the light out again. I tried to get up but in the end decided it was too much work, and I just slept on the couch that night.