The Story of Us Part XI: (aka "Hot and Cold")

Sunday, rainy Sunday.

In what would become, well, the norm in our relationship over the years, I wasn't ready when Chris arrived for our hot date in Moscow. It had started raining AFTER I got dressed, so I didn't think a tanktop was a hot idea seeing as that it looked like Seattle in October outside. This would be my first introduction to WTF weather on the Palouse, considering that it had been in the mid 80s the day before.

Anyway, Emily very altruistically (ha!) went down and got him at the door and brought him up to our room. It took him all of about 10 seconds to recognize her from Starbucks the day before, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

I emerged from the bathroom in a cute pink floral tanktop with a pink cardigan over it and khakis (yes, I remember what I wore on every first date with Chris, and yes, I am aware of how ridiculous it sounds to say every first date) and felt justified in holding up our departure once I saw that he was wearing the same winter Nautica coat he had in high school. (I didn't know back then that Chris had a ridiculously sparce wardrobe and therefore no lightweight jacket.)

We set off for Idaho, chatting easily, and all too soon took our seats in the darkened theater to watch "The Rainmaker." I don't remember much about it other than that while it wasn't a high-school production, it was hardly "A Mid-Summer Night's Dream" at The Globe. And I'll admit that I was both hoping and worrying that Chris would take my hand. The fact that Mr. Sports had so readily agreed to go to the theater to begin with was a pretty good indication that he was into me.

After the play, Chris waited patiently while I took the pictures Vroomway had requested, and then held the door for me on the way out. I remember that specifically because it crossed my mind at that moment what a gentleman he was.

The parking lot was nearly deserted by the time we reached his car, and we slid inside as the rain pelted the roof. But Chris didn't start the car.

He shifted in his seat to face me and said, somewhat nervously, "Jennifer, I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend."

I felt my pulse speed up and my heart skip a beat all at once. "Yes," I, the total Type-A control-freak planner, blurted out without even a moment's hesitation.

His face lit up and we embraced, his puffy coat getting in the way as we stayed locked in a wonderful moment that seemed to go on forever. It was straight out of a movie.

As for what happened next, when I started thinking about it a few days ago for writing purposes, I felt compelled to go into the bathroom and apologize to Chris while he was taking a shower. He was pretty much like, "OK ... great... we're out of facewash." It clearly doesn't bug him, but the same can't be said for me. I will say this, though: I do not feel bad about the decision I made, just about the way it affected him, and in turn, us.

But first, let me explain what happened.

As we left the University of Idaho campus, Chris asked if I wanted to go get something to eat, and for some reason, that sent me into an internal state of panic. I was still reeling from him asking me to be his girlfriend, so I didn't think I would be able to choke down a salad, let alone make small talk and toss my hair and in the way Seventeen suggested as a surefire way to get -- and keep -- a guy.

I didn't know what the hell to do.

But I did know this: I had just barely turned eighteen; I was away from home for the first time; I was just getting acclimated to taking classes and taking care of myself. I was having fun making friends and dancing with brooms in the hallway at midnight and going on Papa John's runs in the middle of the night to escape the fire drill that we were so sure would go off and never actually did.

And from what I had seen of college relationships so far, I worried that I would lose out on the freshman-year bonding experience if I had a serious boyfriend and spent all my time with him and at his apartment. I didn't want to play house; I wanted to dance on desk chairs with Emily and my other new friends, damnit.

I declined dinner, and we lapsed into silence. I knew that I wasn't ready to be Chris' girlfriend, but how did I tell him that?

As he drove onto campus, I worked up my nerve.

"Chris," I said quietly, "I was wondering if maybe we could date more casually. Like not as a formal couple."

He glanced briefly at me as he drove through Greek Row and I hastened to explain that I was just starting to get my footing in Pullman and I especially didn't want people to make a big deal about us dating at the paper. Blame it on professionalism; it works every time. But it was the truth. I already knew he didn't get along with Candace, and I didn't want to be associated with potential accusations of favoritism by an upperclassman. Lois Lane got there on her own -- and I was determined to take the same route to the top. Distractions did not lead to Pulitzers.

"Okay," he said slowly.

I knew I had hurt his feelings, but I felt I had made the right choice.

When he dropped me off in front of Community, I emerged into the rain accompanied by growing doubts about my decision. Had I been too hasty? Was I being unfair to him -- and potentially cheating myself? I turned to wave at Chris, and was met with a tremulous smile that made me feel terrible. Still, we had agreed to give it a try on a more casual level, and I hoped we would.

And true to form, Chris held up his end of the bargain, calling a few days later to invite me to a party at his apartment. The Evergreen's star photographer was back from his internship in Eugene, Ore., for a few days and now that they were all 21, they wanted to have a good time. I was torn. On one hand, I wanted to go and see Chris and have bragging rights that I had already been to a college party. On the other, our relationship was supposed to be casual, on the downlow, and I feared that my attendance would raise questions about why an 18-year-old too young to legally drink and who had never actually met Kevin was at the party.

I declined, and fortunately, Chris seemed to understand.

But it did give me some hope that he did want to see me, that we could slowly work on our relationship. I enjoyed spending time with him and our talks on the phone. So THIS was what it was like to be an adult. To meet and get to know someone. The potential here could totally erase our checkered past.

Or so I thought.

A couple days later, while talking to Candace in her office, she subtly mentioned that at the party, Chris had insinuated that we had slept together.

WHAT?!?

I asked for further clarification, and she provided it. Enough so that I believed Candace completely without pausing to consider her possible motives for sharing this little piece of information. Now, I know that Chris wouldn't have ever said anything of the sort. Back then was another story entirely.

I stormed out of her office and down the hall -- and ran into Chris outside. He was playing catch with Kevin, and I wasted no time in blasting him for his lies.

His lack of response -- likely from shock -- confirmed my irrational fears. I told (yelled at) him to leave me alone and then turned and ran off down the hill.

Chris started to follow me, but I had a good start on him. And whether for common sense or because he thought things would blow over, he stopped, turned around and went back to the Murrow Center. And as much as I didn't want to see him, I was even angrier that he hadn't caught up to me; that he hadn't begged me to listen; that it was just a big misunderstanding.

How could he have said ... that?

I ran all the way home, feeling for the first time that it actually was my home, the place where I could hide under the covers, eat ice cream and get over Chris -- again.

This time, it was really over.

To be continued ...