Free According to Jane by Marilyn Brant

roommate's gone. Wanna come up and see my beer-can collection?"
    "Do you, Ellie? Do you see?" Brent asked me.
    I stared at Brent but didn't answer. He loved the chase and, having been his prey for a month now, I knew better than to give in too quickly. In studying his face for so long, though, I noticed that only a couple of small blemishes marred his smooth, golden complexion. His pores, though large, were somehow intriguing, especially up close like this. It made me laugh. That was my test to see if I had a bad case of lust--when even a guy's pores looked sexy.
    "What's so funny?" he said, seeming surprised by my reaction and, for once, a little vulnerable. It was the vulnerability that finally got to me.
    He pulled back a few inches, and I realized this was the moment of truth. The time when I needed to choose whether to follow up or not.
    "You are," I told him. I glanced down at my Poetry 417 notes, riffled through them until I found the Henry Vaughan page, and began quoting from a complicated seventeenth-century poem called "Corruption."
    I finished reading and Brent grinned carefully at me. "I have no freakin' idea what that means."
    "I'll give you a hint," I said, pointing to the title.
    His grin broadened. "Ah. So that's what you see."
    "Exactly," I said dryly, but I added a smile and a wink so he knew I was stepping into the game. "The verse is actually about death, but Vaughan named it 'Cor--"
    He reached out and snagged my sweatshirt collar with his finger, tugging me toward him. He planted a kiss on my lips. A long, hot one. No doubt at all about his sexual orientation. (Given my vast history of mistakes, I didn't want to misinterpret a guy's intentions again. I'd already made that error as an undergrad.)
    "I'll be back at ten, then," he informed me. And he strode away, the picture of fearlessness and unquestioned masculinity. The sauciness back in place. The vulnerability a well-used, now discarded tool.
    The desk phone rang.
    "Wilder Hall," I said, my lips still smoldering from Brent's kiss, my mind racing with the possibilities of where this relationship might be headed.
    "Hi, Ellie! How are you?" The relentlessly cheerful voice of my cousin came across the line loud and clear.
    "Angelique. What's up?" I asked this although I already had a sneaking suspicion. She'd been calling me from Stanford with goofy questions about sex and dating all semester. California guys were, presumably, a new breed of male, and any prior advice about Midwestern men didn't apply.
    "I've got a question for you." She paused to add suspense. "What do you wear to a bar mitzvah?"
    "What?"
    "A bar mitzvah. You know, that Jewish ceremony thingy where the boys--"
    "I know what it is , Angelique. But what are you doing going to one?"
    "Oh, well, my boyfriend's Jewish," she said breezily, as if the knowledge of this wouldn't give her mother--and half the members of our extended WASPy family--a coronary. "His nephew is having his next weekend, and Leo invited me."
    "Leo? That guy you thought was so cute in your Renaissance Music class?"
    "Yeah." She sighed happily. "I think I'm going to marry him, Ellie."
    "Wow. That's...wow. And, um, about Aunt Candice...you've maybe mentioned this possibility to her?"
    "Nope. Not yet. But she's going to love him. Dad and the twins will, too, I just know it. Leo's so smart and funny, and his parents are the nicest, most laid-back people ever. Tres gentils . His sister, Lily, kind of reminds me of you, actually. Really into books. It's her son who's having the bar mitzvah."
    "Got it," I said. "Well, I've never been to one, but I hear they're kind of like weddings as far as formal attire goes. You should dress up."
    "See, that's what I thought, but Leo likes to joke around so much. He said I could wear whatever I wanted. That he'd like me best in a toga." She laughed. "But then, he's a fan of the Roman period." When I didn't laugh along, she added, "He's getting his PhD in Italian history."
    "Ah," I said. "That