I was intrigued by her the moment I first saw her hanging around the department lounge. She was long, slender, beautiful blond and short-haired to my girlfriend's short, curvy, cute, brunette and long-haired, and she spoke of herself by name in the third person like some demented alien princess exiled to Earth with only a poor grasp of English: "Sky is hungry, Sky will eat now." But she had a boyfriend, a tall, dark, muscular, and chiseled boyfriend, and when he was around, which wasn't very often, she hung on him adoringly and when he wasn't, which was most of the time, she was pining for him. Between her obviously smitten state and me not having any classes with her she was to me only a fantasy, an entertainment and a pleasant esthetic distraction to stare at across a crowded room as my girlfriend babbled on.

We walk back to the apartment together, the apartment I share with my girlfriend, her arms around my arm, her body against my body.

But then in our last semester, we found ourselves in two classes together, one in the late afternoon and the other in the evening, and we fell into a pattern, very quickly, of grabbing a bite to eat between classes, nothing much, usually happy hour food at a bar, since happy hour was what came between the classes and soon it was at least for me a very happy hour, twice a week with a beautiful, friendly girl. munching on salads or nachos of fajitas and downing a beer or a glass of wine or something with vodka in it.

We have spent so much time together already that this progression seems entirely natural, the few month's gap between graduation and today's lunch, today's flirt, today's walk are gone as though we never blinked.

The night of the department finals party of our last semester at school, I sat by myself waiting for my girlfriend, drinking vodka punch after vodka punch after I lost count, and Sky sat by herself, waiting for tall, dark, muscular and chiseled. My girlfriend never did show up, perhaps she was too busy masturbating, or was off fucking someone else, and neither did Sky's boyfriend, which he often didn't. Eventually people wandered off, until there were only six of us left, all graduating seniors, none of us living on campus, none of us wanting the night or school to end. Somebody suggested pizza, so we staggered drunkenly to a pizza place that was almost on the way home for most of us.

I unlock the door to the apartment building, Sky still hanging on my arm, wondering where this will take us, knowing what I wanted so badly as we gazed at each other across the table of the restaurant with the bar where we had eaten so much happy hour food, where she had agreed to meet me again today, three months later for lunch.

All six of us squeezed into a single booth in the pizza place, Sky next to me, and it seemed only natural to sit most of the time with my hand on her knee as we ate our pizza in silence.

The apartment is on the second floor. The ceilings are high. The stairs are long. The door is right there at the top of the flight. We can see it as we walk up, step by step together, arms around each others hips, both of us knowing that my girlfriend is at work, that we are wearing very little clothing, that we have developed some unspoken bond, created an urgent need, left business unfinished between us.

The pizza finished, there were no more excuses, nothing left to hold us to school, or together. We rose as one and walked down the sidewalk through the streets of night to an intersection where we would go our separate ways into the world, possibly never to see each other again. I looked at Sky. She looked at me. We hugged, my arms embracing her taut, slender, wonderful body. She hugged back then suddenly rose on tiptoe and kissed me, three times, on the neck. And then she was gone, breaking away from me, dancing down the street. I stood on the corner watching her go, knowing I needed to go home, but unable to move, wondering at the wonder and the implication of it all because she kissed me, three times, on the neck. Sky kissed me three times on the neck.