by Meghan Quinn
“You’re just going to leave?”
“Yeah, I mean, you have stuff to do, men to call back, things to write, now that you got what you wanted.” His tone was clipped, harsh.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, thrown off.
“Your virginity. It’s no longer a mystery. Go write about it.”
I stood and placed my hands on my hips, trying not to get worked up, but I didn’t like the way he was talking to me.
“Why are you being an ass? Are you trying to brush me off?”
“No, just moving on with life, that’s all.”
“Moving on?” Delaney’s words rang through my head. “Oh my God, Delaney was right. You are a cherry chaser.”
“Excuse me?” Henry asked, looking angrier than I had ever seen him, but I didn’t let him intimidate me.
“You’re a cherry chaser. You get fixated on virgins and bring them into your lair until you take what you want. No wonder you were so good at it; you knew exactly what you were doing.” I just had no clue he’d use those gained skills on me. His best friend. My heart was breaking.
The words hurt coming out of my mouth, but by how he was brushing me off, I had to save my heart somehow. What we’d shared together would go down in history as one of the best moments of my life, and I didn’t want to tarnish it. There was no way of stopping that from happening, though.
“Wow.” He paused while he ran his hand through his hair. “Glad you think so highly of me.”
“Tell me it’s not true,” I said, wishing he’d tell me I was an idiot, that I was wrong, that I was the most inconsiderate ass he’d ever come across.
“Believe what you want, Rosie.” Who the hell was this man in front of me?
“You’re a dick,” I said. “I can’t believe you would sacrifice our relationship, our friendship, for a roll in your bed, because you have some creepy obsession. Why would you do that?”
My breath was getting caught in my throat as tears threatened to fall. I refused to cry though. I didn’t want to come off as an attached ex-virgin clinger, and if I cried over him doing the old stuff-and-go, I would look like a serious clinger.
Taking a deep breath, Henry walked to his door and turned toward me to answer my question. “Because according to you, I don’t care about our friendship and would rather stick you and throw away everything we’ve ever had.” He shook his head and as he walked away he said, “See you around, Rosie. Good luck with Atticus. Hopefully he treats you better than I did.”
With his last words, my tears finally fell. I went to my room and slammed my door, wishing to erase the day from the very beginning.
I never should have kissed him.
I never should have let him touch me.
I never should have given in to his seducing ways.
I never should have believed his lies about what he felt for me.
Everything was ruined now.
I pulled out my notebook and stared at it for a while until I wrote the one thing I would remember for the rest of my life.
June 14, 2018
Note to self: Never sleep with your friends. It never ends well, no matter how many romantic comedies you watch.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Sexuals
The sound of Sir Licks-a-Lot’s sandpapery tongue echoed through the walls of my office, as I watched him prop his leg up like a gymnast and go to town on his mini kitty balls. His favorite spot to clean himself in my office was on the top of my filing cabinet where he could be spotted from around the office and today, once again, he was taking advantage of the office view.
Occasionally he’d pull his head away from his crotch and shake his head, as if he had his cat balls stuck on his tongue, but then he’d go back to licking. It was like he was giving himself oral, just like Bear, and it was uncomfortable and odd to be around.
I tried shooing him away so I didn’t have to hear his scratchy tongue cause an obnoxious friction against his private bits, but all he did was flip me off with his toes. Coincidence that his middle claw stuck up further? I think not, the little bastard knew what he was doing.
It’s been two days since I’d talked to Henry. He hadn’t been around the apartment and neither had I to be honest. I’d put in some extra time the past two days at work to avoid him. Now that it was Wednesday, I was starting to go stir-crazy from avoiding the apartment.
Yesterday when I got home, Delaney tried talking to me, but I faked a headache and went straight to bed, avoiding dinner and any reason I’d need to go into the common spaces. I even brushed my teeth in my room with a bottle of water and spat out my window. Not the classiest of actions, but the moment I heard Henry’s voice in the common space, I swore not to step foot outside my room.
Going to bed with Henry was probably the most colossal mistake I’d ever made. To further my dismay, after only a couple days, Henry was already looking for a new apartment. I’d seen a listing tucked under his computer on the kitchen counter.
Not only had I put distance between us, but I’d practically put him out of his own home. Well, it was both of our doing, I guessed. I couldn’t take blame for everything that happened. He was the one who pursued me, persuaded me, kept being all handsy and . . . perfect.
Damn.
I missed him terribly. Why did things have to take a turn to Crapville?
I’d replayed the moment after I checked the message on my phone over and over in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong. Was he mad about Atticus calling? Because after I hung up my phone, his entire mood had changed. The loving Henry who had been holding me, loving me, turned into an angry man, full of nasty comments and hatred toward me.
By the time I reached my room, Henry’s abhorrent behavior had caused an onslaught of tears. I still couldn’t believe how he’d spoken to me, looked at me. What the hell did I do?
A knock on my office door shook me out of my thoughts. Thank goodness it was only Jenny.
“Hey, Rosie. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.”
“How was your mini vacation?” I asked, knowing she and Drew had gone on a long weekend vacay to New England.
“It was so beautiful up there, but I’m all fudged out. You wouldn’t believe the amount of specialty sugary shops in the area. Every little town had their own fudge and do you know who just needed to test every single one of them?”
“Drew?” I asked, clearly knowing the answer.
“Yes, it was a little obnoxious after the seventh stop, but the man needed to try every unique flavor he came across.”
“What was your favorite? There must have been one that tickled your taste buds.”
“Neapolitan. It seems simple but believe me, after testing flavors like Oreo, Maple Walnut, and S’mores, Neapolitan was the superior winner. The strawberry flavor just hits you, you know? Very smooth.”
I giggled.
“I can see you’ve become a connoisseur of fudge on your time off. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. I now get to spend every spare minute I have at the gym working off every last calorie I ate this weekend. Drew can eat whatever he wants and still have a perfect body but me, if I eat a peanut, I have to work it off in the gym for hours.”
Jenny had the perfect body, but to be fair, she worked her butt off for it and was paranoid that she was going to not fit into the same pants she’d worn since high school. She never wore them in public, given the bedazzled ass that was popular ten years ago, but she kept them around as a tester, to make sure she stayed on track.
“How are the jeans fitting?” I asked, seeing if she’d tried them on.
“I swear they felt a little tight yesterday.”
“You’re insane.”
“I know.”
A loud sneeze escaped Sir Licks-a-Lot, pulling his head away from his crotch. When he sneezed again, he nearly blew himself off the cabinet. Death by sneeze. Wonder if I could orchestrate that . . .
“Got some pussy dust in your nose?” Jenny as
ked, making me laugh.
Sir Licks-a-Lot stretched on the filing cabinet, then leapt off it, onto my desk, knocking over my water, right onto Jenny’s lap, making her spring up from her chair. Jumping off the desk, Sir Licks-a-Lot walked out the door but not before turning his head to look at both of us and kick his legs behind him, as if he was covering us up with imaginary dirt.
“That little fuck,” Jenny mumbled while she waved her pants around.
“At least it was water and not coffee.”
“Did you see the laughter in his eyes? He knew exactly what he was doing. Fucking demon pussy.”
“It’s like you expect something different from him. You can’t insult him and get away with it unscathed. Come on, Jenny, you know better than that.”
“You’re right,” she said. Clapping her hands together, she leaned forward and said, “Now tell me why you’ve been working late. Marian in editing has been keeping an eye on you for me while I’ve been gone.”
“What? Why? I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You do when you’ve been going on dates with hunky men. So tell me, why have you been staying late? Are you waiting for a midnight rendezvous?”
“I wish,” I mumbled while I focused my attention on my computer and let the words in front of me bleed together.
“Okay, this doesn’t sound good. What happened?”
The excitement in Jenny’s voice now turned to deep concern.
I will not cry, I will not cry, I repeated in my head as tears started to well in my eyes.
“Rosie, why are you going to cry?”
Crap. That’s all it took. Tears started streaming down my face out of my control. There was no use, I was an emotional wreck, and bottling up my emotions could only stay contained for so long.
“We did it,” I stated through tears.
“Who?” Jenny asked confused as she grabbed some tissues off my desk and handed them to me.
“Henry and I. We had sex.”
Jenny sat back for a second as she studied my confession. She knew of our friendship and how much he meant to me, so it would have been a shock for her to hear this from me.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to say that. When?”
“Sunday, after we had brunch at my parents’. He was really touchy and sweet and I don’t know, it just happened.”
“I’m assuming the post-sex party didn’t go very well?”
“Nope.” I sniffed. “I thought everything was good, he was stroking my face tenderly, took care of me like I was the most precious thing to him and then, like he was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he just switched. He became rude and detached.” Indifferent. Cruel.
“That seems weird. I mean, I don’t like the guy very much but that doesn’t seem like him. Did something happen in between—”
“What the hell is going on?” Delaney asked while she briefly looked at Jenny, waved and then turned her attention back to me.
Slamming the door and inviting herself in, Delaney took the other seat in front of my desk and dropped her purse on the floor.
“What is going on with you and Henry?”
“We were just talking about that,” Jenny answered for me. “Apparently they had the sexuals on Sunday.”
“What!” Delaney nearly spat as her eyes bulged out of her sockets. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”
Feeling guilty, I shrunk in my seat and said, “I didn’t want to put you between the two of us.”
“What do you mean? Did things not go well?”
“The sex was amazing—”
“But post sex was bad,” Jenny said. “He turned into a bit of a dick afterwards.”
“Really?” Delaney asked a little confused. “That doesn’t seem like Henry.”
“That’s what I said,” Jenny replied while lightly tapping Delaney on the shoulder. “I don’t even know the guy that well, but I know that’s not the kind of man he is.”
“What happened after you guys did it?” Delaney asked, trying to get to the source of the issue.
“She hasn't said anything yet," Jenny added as they both leaned forward and waited for me to answer.
Feeling a little overwhelmed, I sat up in my chair and replayed the moment for them.
“Well, after we did things, he held me for a while, talked to me, told me I was beautiful, stroked my hair, sweet things like that.”
“Now that’s Henry,” Delany said.
“But my phone kept beeping from a message, so to stop the irritating sound and make sure nothing was wrong with my parents since my mind wanders, I listened to the message while Henry sat next to me. He was totally cool with it, but once I hung up, he was a completely different person.”
“What was the message?” Jenny asked.
“Remember that guy, Atticus?”
“The one you kicked in the crotch?” Delaney asked.
“Yes, him. He called me and asked to take me out again. I was shocked and didn’t know how to respond and that’s when Henry went all weird.”
Blowing out a heavy breath and sitting back in her chair, Delaney shook her head at me. “God, Rosie, you’re so dense at times. That voicemail upset Henry. The guy has it bad for you, and right after you two have sex you talk about possibly going out with another guy. He was an ass because he was protecting his heart.”
“Wh-what? No . . .”
Henry’s face flashed in my mind when I started talking about Atticus, and that’s when it hit me. Delaney was right. Henry was upset about the phone call. But I wasn’t going to go out with Atticus.
“Oh God, I am dense,” I said, burying my head in my hands. “Do you really think he likes me like that?”
“Jesus, even I saw that he liked you,” Jenny said. “It’s so obvious, Rosie.”
“She’s right. It’s obvious, sweetie. Ever since freshman year in college, he’s loved you, but you’ve always wanted to be friends so that’s what he granted you: friendship. I can only imagine how much he wanted you as time passed and after seeing you date all of these guys in a short time period, he snapped.”
"But what about all the women he's slept with over the years, Delaney? How was I supposed to know Henry had feelings for me? Only a few weeks ago he hooked up with that Tinder girl. Remember?”
"He's a man, Rosie. They can have sex with anyone really. It's a physical release." Right. Sex with anyone for release.
“I don’t know what to say. I mean, what the hell do I do now?”
“Talk to him,” Delaney suggested. “Unless, are you going to go out with Atticus?”
“No. I haven’t even called him back.”
“Then let him know that. Do you like Henry? Do you have feelings for him?”
That was an easy question to answer. Of course I had feelings for Henry. I’d had feelings for him ever since I met him, but I’d always thought he was out of my league. That’s why I’d kept him as a friend because if anything, I wanted him in my life, any way I could take him. But now . . . now I wanted more. I wanted to be the one he kissed good night, the one who slept in his arms, the one he sent flowers to on special occasions. I wanted every last inch of Henry all to myself but was terrified to actually hand my heart over to get that. But then I thought about Derk’s words before he proposed to Delaney. “I realized that at some point, I no longer only wanted her as a friend, because I wanted her in my life at all times.” Yes, I knew what I wanted.
“I do,” I said, which made Delaney squeal. “I just don’t know if he wants me still.”
“You’ll never know until you put yourself out there and ask. Time to take your life by the lady balls, Rosie,” Delaney said while Jenny nodded in agreement. “He’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait any longer, make it happen.”
“I feel like I’m going to puke.”
“Welcome to the world of love, Rosie. It sucks, it’s nauseating and nerve-racking at times, but the reward is so worth it when you have someone by your side, encouraging you, loving you, and being your life support. T
here’s nothing like it.”
Life support, yup, that was what Henry was to me. But at the moment, without him, I could feel myself slowly deteriorating, losing the ability to be happy, to eat, to sleep. He was hands down my life support; he was the reason I breathed.
Later that night, when I got home from work, I stood in front of my apartment door, contemplating what I would say to Henry, how I’d approach the subject without being incredibly awkward.
Usually at this point in the books I’d read, the guy had screwed up, and for the most part, he won the girl back with ease, explaining he’d been an idiot and then made the grand gesture like proposing.
Well, that was out of the picture. There was no way I’d be proposingtalk about an epic mistake. But talking, cuddling . . . honestly I’d love to jump his bones and make up that way. I read a book where that was completely acceptable, but my gut was telling me that wasn’t the best solution with Henry and me.
Talking was obviously the clear-cut choice, but how to go about talking to him was the question.
Did I say something like, “So about our post-coitus relations . . .”
No, no one said coitus, unless you were a doctor in the fifties who liked to skirt around words like sex and fucking. I didn’t really say fucking, even though, there were times where people just fucked. Not that I’d experienced that. I’d only had penis insertion once, but in some of the books I’d read, those characters fucked—holy hell did they fuck. Up against walls, in hot tubs, on desks, kitchen counters, chairs, and my favorite, on top of a horse. That’s fucking. What Henry and I shared was . . . God, it was making love. I felt absolutely worshipped.
I was such an idiot. I was that girl.
I was that girl you read about in a romance novel that you wanted to shake uncontrollably and say, “You idiot. He’s the perfect man for you.”
There had been many a time where I’d read a book and thought, God, what was the author thinking? Well, duh, it’s real life. People were idiots in real life and didn’t see what was right in front of them until they lost it. Life really wasn’t a bunch of sunshine and rainbows. Nope. People made mistakes, and often, they couldn’t see past their noses to find the one man who’d had been a constant in their life was actually made for them.
