Free Next Semester by Cecil R. Cross

what she meant by that, and how many other students really thought I was HIV positive. And even if they did, how the news traveled from our campus all the way to Elman was beyond me. For the first time since I’d been in college, I felt insecure. I hadn’t even attempted to look for Leslie on Facebook yet. The mere thought of doing the research just to get in contact with her made me feel like a sucka. But I’d come to the conclusion that if looking her up on the computer was the only way I could stay in contact with her, I was willing to take my chances. Besides, I figured with her going to Elman and all, it would be a while before I bumped into her around the yard again. Little did I know, I wouldn’t have to wait that long.
    Less than ten minutes after Fresh and I stepped foot in the foam party, there she was again. Even half-drunk, in a club full of half-dressed, gorgeous women, she stood out like a searchlight. I was low on ends, so I watched from a distance as some other guy bought her a drink. Better him than me, I thought. But I kept my eye on her the entire time. Just as she brushed that guy off and headed to the dance floor, I made my way through the crowd toward her. As she danced in a group with her girls, I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to embarrass myself by getting turned down for a dance in front of her friends. Then I took a deep breath, said what the hell and crept up on her from behind. At first she stopped dancing and looked back at me like I was crazy. I hit her with a big grin and kept on grooving. The moment she recognized me, her poker face gave in to a smile, and she began swaying to the beat again. As I held her from behind I was entranced by the way her black tights clung to her curves, accentuating her juicy derriere. I couldn’t help being aroused just looking at the way she arched her lower back and moved her body. The way she effortlessly gyrated her hips in a circular motion as if she was hula-hooping, looking back and biting her lip ever so often to show me she was feeling me. With my hands placed firmly on her hips, I tuned everyone else out. It was as if we were the only two people on the dance floor. I leaned in, my lip gently caressing her ear as I spoke.
    “You are looking so damn fine in this outfit,” I whispered.
    If I could’ve thought of a better line to use, I would have. But at the time, I was so sprung, that was the best I could do. Judging by the grin that permeated her face, she knew it was genuine.
    “Thank you, sweetie,” she said, as she effortlessly rolled her hips back against my pelvis to the beat.
    I don’t know if it was the speed at which all of the bloodin my body rushed to my genital area, the smell of her sweet perfume, or the look in her eye when she turned around to call me by a pet name for the first time, but right then and there, I knew she could be the one for me. We danced for a few more songs, then she spun around and pulled me close. I puckered up for a kiss, to no avail.
    “You’re a pretty good dancer for a second semester freshman,” she said. “I had fun.”
    “You leaving?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” she said. “I got class in the morning. Can’t stay out too late. You got my number, though. Give me a call.”
    Now, I’m not sure if it was the liquor talking or she really didn’t remember blatantly telling me to contact her on Facebook, but since she was insinuating I already had the number, I rolled with it.
    “Actually, for some reason, it didn’t save in my phone when I tried to put it in,” I said, lying my butt off. “What is it again?”
    I laughed to myself as she recited her number in my ear as if she’d already given it to me. Once I had her number safely stored in my phone, Leslie flashed her pearly whites one last time, then disappeared into the crowd. She looked so good, I wanted to tag along and walk her to her dorm. When Leslie walked away from me, I felt like I was standing in the middle of a boxing ring in