by T. J. LONG
But hearing his confession blew me away, and not in a good way. I was in total shock. How could a nice guy like him cheat?
Then, when he said he wanted to break up, I could hear laughter in the background, so I knew he was with his teammates. I couldn’t justify such inconsiderate behavior. This was a different guy altogether from the Tristan I dated.
I felt like I was dying; I was on autopilot, not even listening to what he said. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to keep my sobs to a minimum. It took me too long to finally get the nerve to hang up, and then I spent the rest of the night huddled in bed, wondering why he did this to me.
Life really was unfair. I know, dramatic, but when you’re 17 and your first boyfriend breaks up with you things seem more intense.
I lean to my right to look at my clock on the nightstand. “No,” I croak.
It’s already 6:30 a.m., which means Ann will be on her way soon. I ponder texting her and telling her not to come. Do I really feel like going to school today? No, I don’t. Staying home in bed and watching shit TV sounds way better than going to school and seeing him.
“Yeah, I’m staying home,” I say aloud to myself. My hand reaches under the pillow for my phone and I begin to text Ann to let her know she doesn’t need to get me today. I haven’t even finished typing two words before she comes barging through my bedroom door
“Come on, let’s go.” She claps her hands together like a deranged cheerleader.
“Nooo,” I groan as I cover my face with the white down comforter that has been draped over me since midday yesterday. She's probably early because she was expecting something like this from me. “I’m not going,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’ve decided to hibernate today, tomorrow, and possibly the whole summer,” I say through the blanket.
“I don’t think so, babe.” She reaches for the blanket and attempts to tug it away from my head, but I’ve got a death grip on it, knuckles turning white in the fight. "I refuse to let you wallow over a turd like Tristan. Now get the hell up and get dressed. This is the last day of school. You’re not missing it, and I refuse to go alone.”
I let out a whine when I feel her pull on the blanket again, and dammit, my grip weakens. She’s a lot stronger than she looks, and with one final tug, the blanket falls to the floor. Ann -1 Blanket -0.
I glare up at her through squinted eyes and fall back into the bed, mashing half of my face into the pillow. She gives me a sympathetic look when she notices my swollen eyes and no doubt blotchy face.
“Gosh, Tay.” She walks closer to the bed. Her voice comes out in a soft tone and I can hear the comfort in her words. “I know right now you’re hurting, so you can’t see it, but he didn’t deserve you. You’re better off.” She squeezes my hand and gives me a supportive smile.
“I know. I just... wasn’t expecting this.”
She jumps on the bed beside me and gives me a bear cuddle. “You know this summer has the potential to be our best one yet. Two single girls out on the town.”
I know she’s trying to lift my spirits, but I don’t want to be a single girl this summer; I want Tristan.
“We may even meet the men of our dreams,” she says wistfully.
I shoot her an unsettled glare and laugh out loud at the ludicrousness of it all.
12 hours ago I was in a committed relationship, I thought anyway. Now my summer plans involve me and Ann possibly picking up random guys. Ughm, kill me now.
“Ann, your thinking is a little off kilter.”
“Fine, then we can start with something simpler, like getting you ready so we can get through our last day of school.”
I groan and roll over in my bed “Fine.” I exhale. “I’ll go, but you know today is technically an optional day.” I give her my best evil eye but then smirk.
Ann is the kind of friend every girl needs. She pushes me when I need to be pushed, and I guess right now is one of those times.
“I know. Apparently showering is optional too.” She takes her fingers and pinches the end of her nose and starts laughing hysterically at her own joke.
I squint my eyes at her. Ha.
As soon as I’m up and my feet are touching the floor, she’s behind me, pushing me to the en suite so I’m forced to shower and get presentable for school. She jumps up and takes a seat on the sink countertop. “You’ve got to be speedy in there.” She looks at her phone. “We need to leave here in like 30 minutes, my little banana,” she says in a baby voice.
My back is to her while I start the shower, so she can’t see me roll my eyes and stick out my tongue. Banana is the name my dad calls me. When I was born, I had a slight case of jaundice and my dad thought it’d be a funny nickname. It stuck. Lucky me. I’ve always found it embarrassing. I don’t want to be compared to a phallus-shaped fruit. I’d yet to meet anyone who had.
The water from the shower is exactly what I need. It’s like a rebirth. The droplets wash away the tear residue and mascara, which dance their way down the drain. I wish my feelings could just as easily get washed away. I hate what Tristan has done to me. My fingers tighten on my shampoo-lathered hair as I think about him and his little fling. I let out a squeak as pain sears through my scalp.
Ouch.
My hair is not the enemy. I repeat, my hair is not the enemy. Then I manage to get through the rest of my cleansing routine without incident.
When I step out of the shower, Ann has laid out everything that I’ll need for the day. My makeup, hair products, even my uniform is hanging on the doorknob, and twenty minutes later, while examining my reflection in the mirror, I find I am quite pleased with what I see. I look good. Like I haven’t been up crying most of the night. The heat of the shower made the swelling of my eyes decrease almost completely, and alive, amber eyes glitter back at me. My bleach blonde hair is even cooperating, falling in loose beach waves to the small of my back.
I threw my normal makeup routine out the window and decided to go all out. No bland Taylor today. No, today, I want to make a statement. I’ve been concealed, shadowed, bronzed and blushed to the best of my abilities, and I am hoping my appearance reads “Strong Woman,” not “Emotional Mess.”
While I’m applying lip gloss, Ann reaches for my skirt and rolls the waistband down three times so it’s no longer knee-length but hits mid-thigh. Our eyes meet in the mirror and my lips go flat as I give her a concerned gaze. She sends me a devious smile.
“Don't look at me like that. If you must see boy-we-no-longer-mention-by-name, then you may as well make a lasting impression.”
I give her an uncertain smile but decide to go with it. Tristan is so used to the conservative me that this should make him do a double take at least. And that double take is exactly what I need.
***
Nerves build in my stomach as we pull into the student parking lot. I’m dreading seeing Tristan, and everyone else if I’m honest. I know I’m going to be talked about, and I’m not sure if I’m mentally prepared. Ann parks the car and turns in her seat to face me. I’m certain she can see the nerves dripping from me like condensation on a glass.
“I don’t want you to walk in there with your head hanging low and looking like your puppy just got ran over. You don’t want Tristan or his loser friends seeing you looking upset. That will give them ammunition. Show them you don’t care.”
“But I do care. I feel... embarrassed.” My hands fidget in my lap. I pick at my cuticles, something I do when I’m anxious.
“Of course you care. I want to punch that douche in his face for what he pulled, but the only way to get back at him is to show him you’re unfazed by it all.”
I consider my embarrassment of being cheated on and betrayed. Everyone has been whispering about it for days. I hate looking stupid, but I would also hate for him to win. We dated for six months. He was my first boyfriend. My first kiss–yes, I was a late bloomer in the boy department, so sue me. I really thought he was a good guy.
Hooking up with a cleat chaser at the end of season
baseball celebration is not what good guys do. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but last night, he pretty much confirmed the rumors by breaking up with me. He said he wanted to be single for the summer. Well, no, his actual words were, “We’re going to have a bro’s summer.”
I’m not stupid. I know that meant he wanted to party with his teammates and hook up with random girls. I knew most of the guys on the team were like that, but I thought he was different.
Reality hits me hard in the parking lot. I need to welcome the confusion and anger. It’s the only way I’ll get through this without breaking.
“You know what? You’re totally right.” I open the car door and grab my bag. “I’m going to act so unbothered that it’s going to make him bothered.”
A devious smile dances across my face and I feel ready to take on the day. It takes a lot to draw the hidden bad girl from me, but I can feel her creeping out from all the stress I’ve been under. If only confidence like this lasted forever.
“That’s my girl.” Ann smiles and grabs my hand as we walk toward the front doors of Shrewsbury Preparatory Academy.
The cafeteria is still pretty full for it being the last day of school. Rumors and gossip spread like wildfire here, so when I feel eyes on me during my walk to the coffee bar, I know it’s not just my mind playing tricks on me. Everyone here has either heard the rumors of Tristan cheating, or they know he broke up with me last night.
I do as Ann suggested: I act like nothing has happened. Like my boyfriend never existed and my life is exactly how I want it to be.
A boyfriend-less virgin.
I feel the frown coming.
No! I can't think like that or people will see how hurt I am and they’ll eat me alive. They are piranhas, always hungry and digging for the next big gossip.
I whisper quietly to myself, “You’re smart, hot, athletic, and funny. Screw anyone who doesn’t want you.” Pep talking myself is a learned trait from doing sports half of my life, and it helps lift my spirits slightly. I place my order and I’m finagling the lid onto my coffee cup when I feel a strong hand land on my shoulder. “Damn, girl you look hot.”
I look up, startled to find one of Tristan’s teammates grinning at me, squeezing my shoulder tight. I roll my eyes, subtly.
“Hey, Brian, how’s it going?” I give him the best fake smile I can muster. I don’t really care how he’s doing, but I don’t want to be rude. He happens to be one of the elites of the school, so no one dares get on his bad side.
“Better now that I’ve seen you in this.” He grabs at the hem of my skirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers.
I knew wearing my skirt shortened and dolling myself up could make me more susceptible to male attention. I still looked like me, just a sexed-up, school girl fantasy version. I take a step back, out of his reach so his fingers can’t touch me anymore. His stare never falters, and he adds to the awkwardness I’m feeling by pulling his lips into a wolfish grin. He looks like he wants to devour me, right here, right now.
Nerves radiate through my body, making my hair stand on end. I am not used to this kind of male attention, and it’s throwing me for a loop. Uncertainty looms in me. Do I like this attention? A small voice, that I push away immediately, tells me I do.
When I take a step forward to leave, he blocks my way, cornering me between his arms and the coffee bar. He leans his face into my hair, and I let out a small gasp from the unexpectedness of it. I hear him sniff my hair and let out a low moan.
His warm breath hits my ear when, in a hushed seductive tone, he whispers, “I hear Donaly dropped you. Don’t worry...” His warm breath trails down my neck as his nose nudges my hair out of his way. His lips part, allowing me to feel the full warmth of him. I feel a slight wetness on my neck, and a small whimper escapes my lips before I can shut it away. “Now you can be mine.”
My heart is beating so hard in my chest it sounds like a drum. I’m sure he can hear it reverberating in my bones. My eyes close and I suck in my lips. I find myself afraid, and slightly turned on. What the hell is wrong with me? Has the stress diluted my brain?
I regain my composure and try to move backward but the coffee bar counter is blocking my escape. Damn Ann for stopping by the office and leaving me alone. She’d know how to handle this. She’s far better equipped at dealing with guys than I am.
Ann and I have similar builds and features, but she is all spunk. People are drawn to her outgoing personality. I, on the other hand, am an introvert to the T. I prefer to keep my group small, like one person small. And I never draw attention to myself. That is until today.
Nerves sprout in me. He’s close, and he’s not moving. I think about telling him to fuck off, but that’s too forward for even the new and improved version of me. Instead, I stand against the counter, trapped by his large body and feeling uncomfortable.
My eyes dart around, silently pleading for help, and I notice a group of baseball players entering the cafeteria. They spot us immediately and hoot and holler as they approach. When they are only a few feet away, Brian finally moves his arms so I’m no longer a prisoner.
Relief floods me. My feet begin to make our exit, but Brian grabs my arm, not hard enough to cause me pain, but enough to let me know he isn’t through with me.
“Hey, guys, you remember Taylor, right?”
Their matching smirks tell me they know I got dumped like yesterday's trash.
“Does Donaly know you’re trying to hit that?” One of the guys points at me and laughs.
My face must turn scarlet. How dare these guys talk about me like I’m just a body to be used for sex? As I search for an appropriate response, Brian comes to my defense, though I certainly don’t want it. “Bro, bro, cool it.” He looks at me and then back at his friend, giving him a stern glare.
I get the feeling they are having a silent conversation that no one else is invited to. After a few more seconds in standoff, they both laugh and do a “bro” handshake, releasing the tension from the air.
It seems like the best time to make my exit. “See you guys later,” I say nonchalantly as I give them all a small smile and a half wave. Of course I have to be polite, even when they don’t deserve it. I should have just walked away without saying a word, but Miss Proper Taylor strikes again.
As I’m making my escape, I hear one of them say, “Dude, she’s a prude. You better set your sights on someone who's going to give it up.” They laugh and my face goes hot.
Then, the next comment I hear hammers the nail in my coffin: “You know that’s why Tristan dumped her. She’s chained up with a chastity belt.”
They howl out laughter in my direction.
My feet stop walking for a split second, not believing what I’m hearing. The guys at this school suck. Rich trust fund babies who say and do anything they feel like, no matter who they hurt. I bite my inner cheek to stop the tears that have been welling since their first asinine comment.
“They will not get those from you, not now, not ever,” I say loud enough for only myself to hear. But hearing them laugh at my expense makes my ears ring from the adrenaline coursing through me. “Hulk smash,” I think, and I let out a small laugh. At least my brain is trying to diffuse the anger and hurt with a silly thought.
I walk into the bathroom to text Ann about what just happened. Like the real MVP of my life, she lets me know that I can come to the office and get the keys to her car and go home if I want. I consider that option for a full 20 seconds and then throw the idea away.
I know if I leave I’ll miss out on the opportunity to see the look on Tristan’s face when he sees me looking this good. This is what today is supposed to be about: Tristan seeing that the breakup means nothing to me and I’m totally fine being single. Though I know that is a lie.
I physically shake the last ten minutes from my body and glance in the mirror to make sure I still look hot. My lips are begging for more gloss; they are one of my best features and I want to highlight them. I know what they make guys thi
nk about. I’m inexperienced but not oblivious. Growing up, I constantly heard about my DSLs (dick sucking lips). And, hey, maybe I had them, but no D has been near my Ls, so who knows how good I’d be? Apparently my lack of forwardness to voluntarily give blowies to the baseball team caused the demise of my relationship.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and give myself one final look over before heading to class. First period is empty as I make my way to my seat at the back of the room. I take a quick glance around. It seems half the students took the optional day, and annoyingly, Tristan and Ann are still MIA. I need her to get here before him. She needs to be my buffer in case anything goes down. Ann is my security blanket.
I pull my phone from my bag and text her.
Me: UMMMM, WHERE ARE YOU????
Ann: Be there in 3...2….1
She walks into the room with a smug look on her face and slides into the seat to my right. I lean into her and whisper, “Why are you making that face?”
Her head bobs toward the door. “I overheard quite an interesting conversation.” She grins and I’m intrigued. “It seems our darling Tristan and friends were discussing the lunchroom fiasco.”
I go pale. How embarrassing. I wonder if he heard about me being cornered. Of course it probably got spun into me pining for Brian, or me and Brian making out against the coffee bar. Hell, the way this school works, maybe he heard that I was blowing the whole team.
Though the truth isn’t much better.
Ann breaks through my brain’s many scenarios and brings me back to reality. “No, trust me, it’s nothing like you’re thinking.”
I nod in relief.
“I overheard one guy say to him how you looked hot and another asked if you were free game now that you weren’t together. Tristan seemed... bothered.” Her brows dance up and down.
A smile slowly spreads across my face and I’m sure it reaches my eyes.
“He said,” she lowers her voice to imitate a raspy guy voice, “‘She’s not free game, bro. Back off.’”
My eyes narrow at this news. Why the hell does he care who I date if I’m single? I am free game!
