It IS my vacation after all

That Sheila woman never showed up this afternoon and after awhile I just stopped worrying about it. Its probably just my ditzy self, but, well, think about it. It IS my vacation, and who cares if someone wants to bug the telephone where we're staying if there's no one talking on it. I mean, besides the fact I don't want to tell Traci and her brother about all this, what's the downside to just going out and enjoying the nightlife on the beach.

Traci looked hot as hell, at least in my humble opinion, in a cute little sea green skirt and white top which showed off her legs. I'd die for long skinny legs like that, honest. Traci's like model pretty, really and I think she belongs on a catwalk or something. After like an eternity of debating the issue, I opted for a pair of shorts and a really cool magenta blouse. Nothing too flashy really, but if you like curves on short athletic women, I have lots of them, and the blouse was fitted well enough to show off my bust without being totally gross. Traci's brother was already out, so T and D just walked down the beach to the party all by ourselves, each of us anticipating a good time and a certain, not necessarily identical, measure of male attention.

Can I tell you it was awesome? There must have been three hundred people, and while Traci and I were on the young side of the crowd, there were plenty of kids just a bit older, a fair number of adults and even a few little kids tugging at their mommy's skirts and begging for hot dogs and cotton candy. The band was some kind of Southern Rock thing, doing lots of bluesy heavy guitar stuff, and everybody seemed pretty into them.

After grabbing some sodas, it didn't take long for the vultures to start swarming, and before you knew it, Traci and I were dancing the night away with virtually our pick of guys. I expected Traci to settle down on one first, but I guess I was sort of distracted tonight, and so after a dance with one really cute college guy, I let him buy me a drink and we walked away from the band to talk and stuff.

This guy, Greg, was just awesome. Six feet two, with dark brown hair and these gorgeous green eyes, he plays on the tennis team and is studying communications. He says he wants to be an anchorman someday. Pretty much the guy had a perfect packaging, and to boot, he seemed not only sweet, but interesting too. That's real important to me, because I don't have a lot to talk about about myself, and on top of that, I got a pretty dismal attention span.

But Greg kept talking about all kinds of stuff, school, his family, what he wants to do. And that wasn't all. He had all these really interesting political stuff too, like insights onto why people do what they're doing which was like totally cool. Now, in case you're wondering, I know and am fully conscious of the fact that what I'm saying was a totally awesome conversation was pretty much overwhelmingly one sided. And I know that Greg was laying on the charm pretty heavily, probably to impress me and all. I mean, lets face it, although I'm sure he would deny it, his interest in me couldn't possibly be because I was interesting, because I barely said a word for every dozen or so of his. No, Greg was strutting his stuff like a peacock hoping to get lucky with a female, and I know I just happened to be a nicely shaped female with seemingly all the right parts who wasn't running away or chasing him off. But you know what, his little array of feathers was pretty cool, and, well, lets face it. I'd be squirming like a stuck pig if he started really trying to know me and asking too many questions. Between being totally ignorant of a lot of things, and having to hide so many other things about myself, real heart to hearts are a bitch for me. They make me nervous, and one thing I wasn't around Greg was nervous.

At least until the band stopped playing and all and Greg offered to walk me back home, anyways. For all that he'd been a perfect gentleman, I knew all too well that Greg was aroused and would probably appreciate a good night kiss, at the very least. And you know, I kind of liked that idea to. It was only my fear of what else he might expect that really had me worried just then, and whether I wanted to do something else, and for that matter, why. Greg was not my type, not that I know what my type is. But for all that I really liked having an easy date tonight who expected nada from me except to nod every once in awhile, I didn't think I could handle him, like his self possession, like again.

I feel bad about thinking about guys like this, but the fact of the matter was, I was bored with Greg. He was like a very sweet pastry that you could enjoy once, but after awhile you'd get sick of it, and it sure as heck wasn't nutritious. Greg was a nice diversion, a summer fling, I guess, although I'm sure he would like to fling a bit more, but by the time we got to the house I was staying at, I was pretty sure that he wasn't relationship material, even in a long distance way.

So when he kissed me goodnight, I'd planned on just giving him like a friendly little peck, and maybe just brush up against him enough to not be totally rude. I mean, the guy was totally hard, but he'd been awesomely cool about it, right? And well, yeah, just because I didn't want to keep him didn't mean I wouldn't enjoy a little through the clothes skin contact.

We walked up to the porch, and I turned, smiling as I looked up at him, expecting to reach up and give him a kiss, but instead of letting me, what Greg did surprised the daylights out of me. He stared at me, frowned, and then looked off into space for a second. My mouth opened in surprise, and Greg reached out to take my hand and pulled me close to him, pressing his most senstive part against my stomach.

"Daphne" he said softly, "you're the most fantastic girl I ever met. You're beautiful, but you're not stuck up, and you're not only sweet, but incredibly bright, vivacious and full of life. Its like I've been waiting all my life…."

As Greg rambled on, my superstrong stomach suddenly got super-sensitive and I had half a mind to hurl all over him. He was going so way over the top, it was like disgusting, because there was no way he could mean any of what he was saying. Pretty ok, but as he went on he kept saying things about how interesting I was, and how smart , it was so disgusting. I knew he was a smooth talker, but here he was blatantly lying to me. Why? Did he think I was that stupid? Did he really think I'd believe this? Moreover, I thought as I heard another ridiculous and insincere superlative pop out of his mouth, why in the world would I want this.

Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore, and I gently slid my hand up to his chest, pressed lightly and stepped back so that I could look him in the face instead of the bottom of his chin.

"Tonight was nice, Greg" I said. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow before we leave?"

I was proud of myself, cool and nice, like it was no big deal, like my heart wasn't broken and like I didn't feel like picking him up and shaking him until he peed all over himself.

Greg looked confused for just a moment, and then nodded.

"Yeah, uh, alright" he said, and then regained a bit more composure. "I guess that means you're not giving me your phone number?"

I smiled, sadly.

"Yeah, Greg, that's what it means. Sorry if I wasted your time."

Greg looked funny and then kind of half smiled.

"Our time, Daphne" he said calmly, "but then again, that's sort of the problem isn't it. Too bad, 'cause when your mind grows into that body of yours, then we'll both know what we could have had. Oh, well, night's young and maybe I can still hook up with a real woman, not just a high school tease. Ciao, Daphne."

I stood there, my mind reeling, fuming half at him and half at me as he walked away. Then I wanted to scream and cry all at once, but when I turned back to the door, I saw Traci and a guy, her brother and some girl, all sitting on the sofa, obviously about to do something else. No way I was going in there, not in my current emotional state and after my total humiliation.

One good thing about being super, I thought as I stepped down off the porch and started walking down the beach, is at least I'm not scared walking on the beach at night. And with my supersenses, nobody's gonna get close enough to see me sobbing like the little girl Greg just nailed me for. Part of me knew it was dumb, and just sour grapes on his part, but it still hurt, the way he'd talked to me. And the way I'd let him talk, too, and then there was the fact that I even cared. I mean, I'd pushed him away, and now I was whining about the fact that he took his frustration out on me. I mean, how hopeless am I?

I made it about a half mile down before I stopped crying and then started walking back towards the house. When I got there, I crashed on the back porch, not wanting to go inside just yet. I was better, but by then things were pretty hot and heavy inside. What a night. I'm going to be glad when this little vacation is over. Besides all the weird stuff, its turning out to be a real emotional downer. At least when I go to sleep alone at home, I can hug my stuffed animals and claim my parents as an excuse. Here, the only thing to blame is me.

Daph