Free In the Wake of Wanting by Lori L. Otto Page A

poetry?” she asks.
    “Because she’ll separate us,” I tell her.
    Our responses settle in a silence between us. I think about what she said.
    “And that,” I add. That should have been the first reason. The only reason. My concern shouldn’t be whether or not we can stay partners this semester. I have a girlfriend. But in saying what I did, Coley now knows that I, too, have a desire to know her like she wants to know me. “I’m afraid she won’t accept it at all. That she’ll drop you from the class.”
    “No!” she says, worried.
    “I know!” I agree, equally distressed. We both look surprised at my outburst, neither of us able to breathe in the seemingly electrified air that is starting to suffocate me. If I inhale, I’m afraid these charged particles will escape my lungs and seep out into my bloodstream and begin to affect my heart. Already my pulse feels like it’s being controlled by a drummer on a cocaine binge. Breaking away from the pull of her stare and using up the air I already had, I speak. “I have a girlfriend.”
    “I know,” Coley says. Of course she knows. She knows a lot about me already. “Zaina. She’s very beautiful.”
    “She is,” I agree, trying–with difficulty–to remember what she looks like. “These poems… Professor Aslon may split us up. Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
    “Please don’t say that.”
    “Then you have to start writing something else,” I urge her.
    “I’m doing it now,” she says, grabbing her laptop. “I’m starting it right now.”
    “Okay, but I still have to read it first. I have to edit it. My reputation is at stake here, too. You have to fix this, Coley.” After I tell her that, I look over the last few lines of her poetry. She obviously read my thoughts on Monday, not the other way around. As she was eating that bite of her blueberry muffin, the fork lingered in her mouth, holding my attention. When she flipped the utensil upside down between her lips before gently scraping off the last crumbs with her perfect teeth.
    The fantasy played out quickly. I took the fork from her and threw it on the floor, drawing the attention of the rest of the diners in the coffee shop. In one swift movement, I pushed the table out of the way and pulled on her arm to bring her into my lap. She straddled me, her hands gripping the metal bars on the back of the chair while mine released her messy strands from the clip that didn’t want to hold them there in the first place. The hair accessory found its place on the floor with the fork and we kissed voraciously, uninhibited, unlike any kiss I was able to actually exchange in a public setting.
    Well, unlike any kiss the public Trey she thought she knew would be allowed to exchange, anyway. I wanted to prove that there was another side to me. I wanted to show her that other side of me.
    And just as soon as I started thinking that, I began to berate myself for having such thoughts about a relative stranger–especially with a girlfriend whose only crime committed was being away at school in England.
    Passion. Heat. Mysterious. Unbridled. Rough and rash. Out of control.
    She described that fantasy perfectly.
    “Professor Aslon specifically said I shouldn’t change the content.” I look up at Coley, grateful for the old, wooden slats with peeling paint that separate her eyes from the hard-on that she’s unwittingly caused. I have to adjust myself to alleviate the discomfort, hoping she doesn’t notice. I quickly bring my hand back to the table’s surface. “Is that what you’re wanting me to do?”
    I never wanted to be the editor that censors someone’s work, but I know if she confesses her crush and intentions to our professor, our advisor will think we can’t have a professional relationship. I know we can. I know I will be faithful to Zaina and control whatever lustful temptations I’m having right now. I have self control. Our professor would never assume that of a guy in college, though.
    I