Accept Yasmin's Invite

After texting to coordinate, you meet up with Yasmin on the edge of campus. And you're surprised.

For once, she isn't wearing her tank top or yoga pants. Instead, she has on a tight, short dress. Bright orange with white wavy lines running across it, and huge hoop earrings that dangle halfway down to her shoulders. You never thought that she had large breasts before, but the dress is flattering and seems to have some quality that produces cleavage. She has curled her hair and clipped it so that it all runs off to one side.

"So it's walking distance?" you say, as you approach her, trying not to get caught up in how beautiful she looks.

She nods, then once you're close enough she says, in her usual serene tone. "It's a short walk. But, Ryan, technically: everything is walking distance."

You blink. "But...it is a short walk?"

"Yes," and she starts going.

You have to rush to catch her. Not too quickly, though, because you don't want to miss the view from behind. The dress curves around her backside impressively, seeming to emphasize it.

As you walk the two blocks, you decide to outright say it. "You look really, really good, tonight."

You don't know how it will be received. Spiritual as she is, is she beyond such vain compliments? But then she smiles softly. "Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to walk me there."

"Aren't you walking me?" You ask.

Her smile doesn't waver. "Perhaps. But maybe I am traditional in some ways. Maybe I like feeling like a man is walking me."

You decide to let that comment breathe. You let silence pass between you. A sidewalk lined with palm trees and small one-storey houses slowly rolls by. You remember chasing after her, after yoga class. Now, somehow, you feel like the two of you are so much more together. It wasn't that long ago that you saw Yasmin completely naked, in art class. Yet somehow this dress flatters her so much that she looks even more beautiful in it.

"You're remembering me naked," she says.

You almost stop. "What? How?"

"A man gets a look on his face," she smirks. "I think some women don't admit they notice it, when they do."

You keep up with her pace. "I was just thinking: It's impressive how you aren't self-conscious about that."

"Oh. I am," she admits. "Not in the way you'd think, though. I am proud of my body. That pride is something I've really earned, worked for both physically and mentally. But it's fragile, I think. If I'd gone into that room and one man had made a comment...I don't know."

"Impossible," you say, reflexively.

She smiles again. It's worth it.

As you walk next to Yasmin, you consider something: You have gotten to know a lot of girls, here. And there are multiple of them who you are, to put it a certain way, vibing with. When it comes to casual hookups, you assume that there's no rule on exclusivity. But if you're going to start being serious, it's worth thinking about.

In a way, it's because of the party. As the large house appears at the end of your walk, you think of how many of the girls you've met will be in attendance, including Yasmin next to you. There's a sudden premonition, then. A realization: Soon, perhaps as soon as tonight, you'll need to make a choice.

"Thanks again," Yasmin says, as the two of you approach the party. "But I'll have to break away, now. Catch up with some of my sisters. Talk to me soon, Ryan. Please."

You can't deny some disappointment. But that's the other thing about not really dating a girl isn't it? You can't claim any ownership over her time. Not yet, at least.

Maybe you can fix that.

You wave goodbye to Yasmin, who sees a few of her sorority sisters standing outside on the lawn, and approach the door yourself.

Yasmin (Love) +5