The Girl Next Door

"For her part, I think Angie needs someone steady in her life who knows when to step in and warn her when she's pushed it too far. I don't know if I do nearly enough in that regard, but I do all she'll allow."

"And that's enough for the two of you to be best friends?"

"That, and whatever intangible stuff there is that makes people friends. I've loved her to death since I was five and I probably always will."

"That's cool, but since we're on the subject, there's just one other thing about the two of you that I find fascinating."

"What's that?"

"The idea that she got a really horrible STD right out of the gate, but it never seemed to slow her down at all, yet you, just witnessing what happened to her, swore off dating until college."

Kim smiled. "Told you we were opposites, and that includes our respective ideas about personal responsibility. All she learned from having her pussy nearly rot off was that she should make her endless procession of guys use rubbers. She's got a drawer and purse full of the things. Myself, I understood the reality of manufacturing defects, so I wasn't about to trust a thin layer of latex with my health and future."

"Your sense of personal responsibility is one of the things I love about you, Kim."

"And I adore yours as well, Connor. I know I can trust you. Still, it pisses me off that Angie got naked in front of you."

"Angie never had a prayer."

"Good," Kim said, taking me in her arms. "I'm going to make sure to reward you extra special tonight."

Within a few days of my encounter with Angie, I noticed that the little minx had gone from not being around much, to not being around at all. I hoped I hadn't destroyed their friendship, so I asked Kim about it.

"Oh, it's not you, and it's not anything I said to her," she said. "Angie's got an honest-to-God boyfriend." Kim used the same tone of voice I would have expected her to use if she'd reported seeing the Loch Ness monster.

I almost had to chuckle at that. Usually, when people are surprised that a girl has gotten a boyfriend, it's because she's had a hard time attracting a guy. But Angie must have had a bedpost notch-count well into the triple digits. What we were surprised about was that she could limit herself to just one.

"Wow, he must be one hell of a man," I said.

"So I hear. Angie's spent the last five nights at Jack's apartment. She only drops by to pick up fresh changes of clothes – and to chat with her best friend. I haven't even been allowed to meet this guy yet."

I did see Angie a few days later when I showed up at Kim's room one evening. She and Kim were talking as Angie stuffed some clothes into an overnight bag.

"Weenie," Angie muttered with a nod, acknowledging my presence with the nickname she'd hung on me since our little episode.

"Wench," I replied in kind. Kim just rolled her eyes and shook her head sadly.

"Look," Angie said to me, "I was talking with Jack about your financial situation."

Kim gave me an apologetic look, obviously not sure if I was okay with her having discussed my fiscal difficulties with Angie. Well, I hadn't asked her not to.

"Okay..."

"Well, he knows someone in the scholarship office," Angie continued. "Jack says you need to go talk to Ms. Hinckley, the Scholarship Coordinator. She's supposedly got some sort of new computer program that can match students up with scholarships, even some of the really obscure ones."

I was stunned. Angie was lifting a finger to help me? Maybe pigs were about to fly – or maybe I'd somehow misjudged her. "Uh, thanks."

"Hey, I'm just passing it along," she said, brusquely turning back to her packing. Kim gave me a "don't look at me, I just live here" look.

Angie was done a few seconds later. She gave Kim a hug and me a mumbled "bye" as she went out the door.

The sound of the word "scholarship" had basically the same effect on me as a ringing bell on Pavlov's dog, so I wiped off the drool and called the Coordinator's office the next afternoon. I was given an appointment a full week out. A week? Eventually, though, the day rolled around and I arrived at the appointed time, eager to see if Ms. Hinckley could do anything to help me.

It turned out that the Coordinator was not so easily accessed. According to her personal assistant, Towanda, I would have to fill out some paperwork and take a computer evaluation before I'd be allowed to discuss scholarships with her in the inner office.

So I completed the eight-page questionnaire with stuff that was probably already accessible through the computer on the assistant's desk, then sat down at an ancient terminal for my assessment. The questions it asked were all about my age, race, sex, grades, disabilities, family background, and a whole bunch of other things. Some I could understand, but others had me scratching my head. Was there really a scholarship out there that would be awarded based on one's ability to play an autoharp?

At last, though, I finished and Towanda instructed me to take a seat. "Ms. Hinckley," she said into her phone, "he's ready."

Towanda listened patiently. "Yes, ma'am." Putting the phone back in its cradle, she looked at me apologetically. "It'll be just a few minutes."

Twenty-seven was evidently the definition of "a few," but I was ultimately escorted in. Ms. Hinckley's office was large and plush, with a wall of windows overlooking one of the nicer views of the campus. She was in a high-backed leather executive chair with her back to us, sitting at a workstation that faced that view. Between us was a mahogany desk the size of a battleship.

"This is Connor O'Leary," Towanda announced. She gave me a surreptitious thumbs-up, then scurried out, closing the door behind her.

"Okay, let's see what we're looking at here," Ms. Hinckley said tiredly. As she began to swivel her chair toward me, she blanked the screen on the laptop she'd been using, but not before I could see that she'd just been blown up in a game of Minesweeper. Really? Was that why I'd been cooling my heels? I took a deep, calming breath.

I guess I'd been expecting someone matronly, but as the turning chair revealed more of her, I realized that she was in her mid to late-thirties, slim, and actually quite attractive for her age. That was unexpected, but hardly earth shattering.

Her reaction upon seeing me, on the other hand, was quite startling. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in shock, like I was a ghost from the past or something. I got the impression that she was about to bound out of her seat, but then she suddenly seemed to realize that I wasn't who she'd thought I was. A mask of calm fell over her almost instantaneously. Whoa. That had been so strange that I almost wondered if it had actually happened.

"I really appreciate your taking the time to see me, Ms. Hinckley," I said, wanting to be on the good side of someone who could potentially help me out.

"Nonsense," she said with a dismissive wave. "It's what they pay me for, and I really enjoy working with students." Really?

"And please," she continued, "call me Rhonda." Wait. Her assistant had to address her as Ms. Hinckley, but she wanted me to call her by her first name? There was something going on here that I definitely didn't have a handle on.

Then she noticed that I was still standing. Before I'd lost her, my mom had diligently taught me the rules of etiquette, so I wasn't about to sit until I was invited. "Oh, please have a seat, uh..." she looked at the big monitor on the battleship desk, "Connor."

"Thank you, Rhonda."

She turned to her keyboard and started pointing, clicking, and typing the occasional command. The monitor was turned away from me, so I couldn't see what she was doing. "I'm looking to see what the system has come up with as far as matches for you," she eventually explained.

"I hope it finds something good," I ventured.

"Me too," she said, "but the computers have been running very slowly today. It'll probably be a couple of minutes before we get any results." Her hands left the keyboard and she turned to me, giving me her full attention. "So tell me a little bit about yourself, Connor."

I gave her the bare bones about how I'd been orphaned at ten and had grown up in foster care. I told her that I had my heart set on becoming an architect and that I really needed more scholarship money if I was going to complete my schooling in a reasonable amount of time.

"Well, you've come to the right place. It says here that you had a 3.88 high school GPA. You're obviously quite studious."

From her tone, I wasn't sure if she felt that "studious" was necessarily a good thing. "I try to be," I said anyway. "I'm hoping to keep up the same kind of GPA while I'm here."

"That's great, Connor, but college is supposed to be fun as well. Hopefully you're doing some socializing?"

"Well, yeah. I've got a pretty serious girlfriend."

"Awesome. You guys living together?"

I thought that was rather forward of her to ask, and it flustered me into oversharing. "No, we'd only do that if we got married."

"What, are you virgins?" As soon as it was out of her mouth, Ms. Hinckley finally seemed to realize that she'd stepped way over the line of what was proper to ask a student. I couldn't imagine that any scholarships in the year 2003 involved a virginity test.

Unfortunately, I was so conditioned to answering any question given to me by teachers or other educational officials, that by the time I realized that she shouldn't have asked it, I'd already answered it. "Yeah, uh, we are," I stammered.

"Oh, Connor, I'm sorry," she said, seemingly ashamed of herself. "That was none of my business." Seemingly chastened, she glanced over at the monitor. "Oh, here we go."

She studied the results for a long moment. "There are a couple of small ones here that we sometimes see. They're such a hassle to apply for and so hard to get that they're probably not worth the time and effort, but..." There was a long pause as she seemed to be reading something. "Well this is certainly interesting. I haven't seen this one pop up for a while, but it's a biggie."

I unconsciously leaned forward, as if that was going to allow me to see what she was looking at from the wrong side of the desk. Noticing this, she looked over at me. "Here, let me move this so we can both see it." She swiveled the monitor, moving the oval base with it. The dust that was revealed underneath told me that this wasn't the treatment that most of her clients got.

Then she got up and walked around the desk.

When she stood, I realized that Rhonda looked like a fifteen-year-older version of Angie. She had narrow hips and a taut, but shapely butt, nicely displayed by a pair of nearly painted-on black jeans. Her tight sweater showed that her belly was flat and her breasts small but shapely and nicely high on her chest for a woman of her apparent age. She even wore her short, dark hair the same as Angie and moved with that same unconsciously feminine grace.

Before I could even react, Rhonda was next to me, so close that I could feel the brush of her soft sweater against my shirt and smell the sweet jasmine of her perfume. It seemed to envelop me in its embrace.

"Now," she said, in a voice that I'm sure was a little huskier than it had been before, "let's see what we're dealing with here."

I was holding stock still, wondering what I'd gotten myself into as she leaned forward to point out what was on the screen. Her left hand was on the back of my armless chair with her forearm lightly touching my shoulders, and her hip was pressed casually against my side. As her hand reached out to touch the screen, I felt her breast momentarily brush against my ear. I only just managed to suppress a sudden intake of air.

"This is the Hammer Memorial Scholarship," Rhonda murmured in a low voice. "It was established through the will of Mr. William Hammer, an early alumnus of this school who came to us from an orphanage. The college gave him a generous scholarship to attend, and he was our valedictorian in 1918. He went on to establish one of America's largest construction firms, but died without leaving an heir. His entire legacy was placed in a trust for our University. The trust awards a scholarship every year to one orphaned student who excels in the fields of Architecture or Civil Engineering."

I was fascinated by the possibilities of what was on the screen, but Rhonda was still pressed against me, the small movements of her petite body driving me to a rather inappropriate level of sexual arousal. I'd never been so stirred by a woman significantly older than me before.

"Uh, wow," I nearly choked. "That's really interesting."

"It is, but one of the most fascinating things about it is that it's only awarded to a freshman after the first semester, and only if they have a GPA of over three point five. Mr. Hammer wanted to make sure that the money went to students who had already proved themselves capable of college level work. If no otherwise qualified candidate scores that high, the scholarship money rolls over to the next year. It's, uh, rolled over for six years in a row. It would basically amount to a full ride now – tuition, fees, books, housing, and even a generous stipend. And that's for the duration of the student's course of study here, as long as his or her GPA stays above a cumulative three point three."

This was an astounding opportunity. It was almost enough to make me ignore the incredible feel of Rhonda's lithe body against mine.

"According to what's on the screen," she said softly, "you qualify based on your major and family status. Will your grades be that good, Connor?" She moved fractionally and the side of her breast came to rest lightly against my cheek. There was no doubt in my mind now that this was fully intentional.

I was so pumped with a combination of testosterone from my arousal and endorphins from the scholarship information that I totally forgot myself. I turned my head and nuzzled her breast with my face. I was amazed to find that she wasn't wearing a bra and I could feel a hard little nipple against my upper lip. She leaned into me and I felt her hand come off of the back of the chair. She began to run her gentle fingers through my curly red hair.

I was only barely able to register her question. "Uh, I'm all A's so far," I mumbled, my lips teasing her nipple. It was only then that I realized what I was doing.

Suddenly ashamed of my behavior, I jerked my head away from her and leaned my body toward the other side of the chair. Now unsupported, Rhonda whipped her hand from the screen and gripped the edge of the desk for balance. Her other hand came out of my hair and grabbed the back of the chair.

For a long moment, we were motionless, but then she straightened and took a step back. I had the sudden empty feeling that I hadn't helped my cause with my sudden rejection of her advances. I needed to do something to try and recover the situation – and fast.

Before Rhonda could start to walk back to her side of the desk, I stood up and turned to her, gently, but chastely, wrapping my arms around her slim body and holding her against my chest. She made no move to resist.

I'm sure she could feel my erection against her belly. She was taller than I'd guessed, maybe just a few inches under my five foot ten.

"Rhonda," I said, using a low tone, "I really appreciate your finding this scholarship for me. You're a beautiful and amazing woman. I've been wondering how I'd ever find the money to continue after this year." I wasn't sure if that was enough, so I laid it on a little thicker. "Everything you've done for me has been wonderful and very appreciated. If the Hammer Scholarship works out, you'll have taken a huge burden off of my shoulders and I'll always think of you very fondly."

"Thank you," she murmured in my ear. I felt her relax, but then begin to withdraw. This was still highly inappropriate after all.

I released her and she quickly walked back around to her side of the desk. We took our respective seats almost in unison. Rhonda swiveled the screen back to face her side of the desk, then did a little more pointing and clicking. Finally, she spoke in a very quiet, but formal voice, not looking at me.

"Well, Mr. O'Leary, it does look good for you at this point. I'll have Towanda print off the application paperwork for you. Please complete it and bring it back in the next couple of days."

"I sure will, Ms. Hinckley," I said, following her lead back to a more formal relationship.

"As the Scholarship Administrator, I lead a committee that makes the decisions on who gets what. Any recipient of this particular scholarship would be notified before the start of the next semester's classes, and the appropriate funds would be made available to the student shortly thereafter." She looked up, now apparently recovered. "If your grades meet the requirements at the end of the semester, I'm going to recommend you for the Hammer."

It took no effort to put on my most sincere face. "Thank you, Ms. Hinckley. I really appreciate that."

She nodded, and I could see that she was back on an even keel. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Connor."

"And you too, Ms. Hinckley."

I quietly took my leave.

Kim was over-the-moon excited at the news that I would be getting a full-ride scholarship. I had to remind her that it hadn't been awarded yet, and that I had to continue to study hard in order to make sure I qualified. Still, things were really looking up.

As a matter of fact, things were going so well between Kim and me that after only knowing her for a couple of months, I counted some chickens before they hatched and pulled money out of my college savings to buy a diamond ring. I knew we should spend the rest of our lives together and couldn't see how time would make it any more obvious.

So on that momentous day, I took Kim to the same Italian restaurant we'd visited the first time we'd gone out. I used the excuse that this was the ten-week anniversary of our first real date, but then, in the middle of dinner, I took a knee, held out the open box, and quietly asked for her hand in marriage. My proposal didn't go unnoticed by the people around us, and a hush fell over the restaurant, growing in concentric rings. Heads turned toward us as people caught on to what was transpiring.

Kim's eyes were wide. I'd evidently caught her by complete and total surprise. "But we've only known each other since August," she protested. "You haven't even met my parents."

"Are you worried that they won't like me?"

She shook her head.

"Then why not marry me?"

"Connor, we're only eighteen. We have a lot of college in front of us and a lot of growing up to do."

Had I pushed things too far, too fast? "Kim, we'll go through college together and do our growing up side by side, working as a team, supporting each other and building a whole lifetime of shared memories."

She seemed to consider that, then nodded slowly. "Well, I can see how that makes a certain amount of sense," she said, noncommittally.

"Kim, the biggest reason I'm asking you to marry me is that I love you. I love what you do, I love being around you, I love your brains, your kindness, your looks and your ambition. I love you in ways that I wouldn't have guessed it was possible to love a woman. There has always been a Kim-shaped hole in my life, and you fill it just perfectly. Frankly, I can't come up with any credible reason for us to spend another three and a half years living apart."

She nodded, apparently mulling what I'd said. The restaurant had quieted way down and most everyone had heard what we'd been saying. The hush became complete as the wait staff paused and watched. You could have heard a pin drop.