by Sabrina York
“I can’t.” I shake my head, breaking a teetering tear free. “I’m not ready to do this. I’m sorry.”
His clenched jaw jumps again. “When I asked you out on a date, I thought it meant you were ready to give us a shot and took it as a cue that you were done messing around with other people.” He releases my wrist, fuming. “I know we never discussed being exclusive, but you told me I didn’t have to worry about you having sex with that guy. In other words, you lied to me.”
I look down with a burst of shame. “I didn’t lie. It happened before I told you that.”
“So you moved in with him after you slept together? Are you fucking kidding me?” His sharp words cut through the night, causing a group of girls behind us to giggle.
“It’s complicated,” I say quietly, looking up with tears spilling from my eyes.
Theo moves closer, bringing his hands up to cradle my jaw. I gulp down a surprised cry. His touch feels so damn good.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Cavenaugh. The day Jewels introduced us, I was like some love sick school boy for days. I couldn’t wait for a chance to see you again. Most of the women I meet have become hardened by big city life. You’ve got the same confidence and sexiness, only there’s something soft underneath. It makes me want to protect you, make sure you’re taken care of.” His thumbs stroke the sides of my face. “I can’t be with you the way I want if you’re lying to me. It’s like I told my last girlfriend—I can handle infidelity to a degree. What I can’t tolerate is straight up deceit. If you can’t be truthful with me, then I can’t be with you.”
Then he leans in, at first gentle when he presses his thick, soft lips to mine. I gasp, making way for his whiskey-flavored tongue to slip inside and massage mine with a much harder, much more desperate fervor, like he’s trying to make up for the time since the mere kiss in Erik’s apartment. Still unable to process the kiss despite his contradictory words, I don’t move my hands, though my tongue and lips eagerly respond with all the passion I’ve been holding back.
Each moment when it seems it couldn’t become any more amazing, Theo ups the intensity of the kiss. His fingertips slip underneath the back of my shirt to stroke my bare skin, soft and slow. I want those fingertips all over me, kneading my breasts and releasing the warm ache between my legs.
Remembering that we’re standing on a public street in Times Square, I break the seal of our lips, bringing my fingers up to test the swollen state of my mouth. My eyes snap onto his. “What—”
“I’ve been dying to do that for weeks. I wanted to see what our first kiss would’ve been like.” With an abrupt coolness that stings like a sharp blade to my chest, he takes a step back, his gaze dark. “I guess it’s ironic that it was also our last.”
He leaves me standing all alone outside the bar.
Chapter Thirteen
Rather than sending my belongings in the mail, my parents bring them with on a surprise visit a week later. Our reunion is bittersweet, filled with tears and apologies on both ends. They both seem so different. There’s a bit of gray mixed in with my dad’s chestnut hair, and the way his cheeks cave in slightly I wonder how much weight he’s lost since the beginning of summer. My mom’s dark hair is done up in a chignon, pulling the wrinkles back around her dark brown eyes. They’re barely in their forties, but they suddenly look old. I briefly consider their advanced aging could’ve brought on by my reckless behaviors.
They’re only able to stay for two days as they need to finish closing the camp down for the season. Still, the emotional toll their brief visit takes on me is remarkable. I already feel hallowed out after Theo’s emotional goodbye, and there are days I’m only able to survive on auto pilot mode, smiling even though I don’t feel the slightest spark of happiness. Before my parents leave, we find a psychologist who the three of us not only agree on, but who can fit me in within a few days despite her tight schedule.
I’m nervous as hell during my first appointment with the psychologist. Her office is considerably modern, the furnishings looking like something straight off an IKEA showroom, and it smells like freshly cut flowers. Jean Ritter, MS, LPCC, a very slender woman around 45 or so with short, dark hair and friendly brown eyes, watches me from one of the leather armchairs. She’s casually dressed in a soft tunic and capris with a ton of bright jewelry. My eyes keep skimming down to her flashy heels that totally make her ensemble and most definitely came from a high-end designer.
After we run through the niceties in which I give her a background on where I grew up, what I have for a family, where I went to school, and other things that feel mundane and less important all things considered, Jean gives me a genuine, bright smile. “Why don’t we address the reason you’re here? Your mother told my assistant that it was your idea to see a therapist.” Her soft voice holds the hint of a southern accent.
I nod, my eyes flashing back down to her shoes. “I’m fucked up.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I guess my job here is done. Where would you like me to send your prescription?”
My eyes snap onto hers. She laughs merrily, tipping her head down and looking years younger than I originally guessed her to be. “Let’s drop the labels and assumptions for a minute. If you were so ‘fucked up’ as you say, then you wouldn’t have decided to come see me on your own. What happened that made you see yourself this way?”
I look to my lap and pick at a hangnail on my ring finger. “I don’t seem to have any self-control when it comes to sex. I used to think there wasn’t anything wrong with random hook ups. Guys do it all the time and no one bats an eye. But I changed my mind this summer when I unknowingly slept with a married man who had a terminally ill wife.”
Jean regards me with interest. “This man didn’t tell you he was married?”
“No, but I should’ve guessed there was something wrong the way he always wanted to meet me somewhere private. Maybe a part of me suspected and that’s why I started to believe there’s something wrong with me. My entire family knew he was married, though, and they just assumed I knew it too. Once word got out, I became the town jezebel. I got so tired of everyone hating on me that I packed my bags and came out here. I couldn’t take it anymore. I have a history of running away when things get rough. It’s what I do best.”
“How did you feel when you discovered he was married?”
“Pissed. And sick. I actually threw up. That’s not something I would knowingly do—sleep with a married man. When my friends and family believed the rumors that I knew all along, I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to…check out.”
“You mean kill yourself?”
I think back to the night my mom told me to get out of her house. I begged her to listen to me with tears streaming down my face, my throat raw from yelling. My sister Megan was the only other one around, and she just watched on with her arms crossed, judging me in a way that felt foreign, as if I was in someone else’s body. For one very dark, lonely moment, I wished I was dead. Then anger took over, and I never had that thought again.
“I never would’ve actually killed myself, no,” I say, fighting back a burst of tears. “But there were times I wished fate would take over and make that decision for me.”
Jean watches with an open expression, more curious than anything. “And this is why you think you’re fucked up? Because you found out you slept with a married man who lied to you?”
“No, it’s more complicated than that. I came to New York to start over. I wanted to erase the labels everyone back home had given me. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t a whore, or a slut like they said. When I got here, my friend Jewels introduced me to this really great guy—Theo. Even though I thought it was a bad idea to start another relationship so soon, I wanted things to work out between us…I still do. But then I met Erik, her boyfriend’s brother, and hooked up with him twice even though I swore to myself that I wouldn’t. He’s even more messed up than I am—he once tried to kill his brother. And he made it clear he’s not inter
ested in an actual relationship, just sex. Still, it’s like I couldn’t control myself around him. Having sex with Erik completely fucked everything up with Theo. He hates me now, and I can’t blame him. I don’t know why I slept with Erik when Theo’s the one I really want. And I was so insistent with Theo that we take things slow. I wonder…I mean sometimes I think maybe I’m addicted to sex.”
“I see.” She crosses her arms. “Tell me, Kelly, do you think about sex often?”
“Not unless I’m around Theo or Erik.”
“What about pornography? Do you watch movies, buy magazines, or look at sexual images online?”
I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “I watched a porn flick once with a guy in high school. It was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen–the acting was terrible. But I’ve never bought a ‘dirty’ magazine. And, um, does looking at hot guys on Pinterest count as ‘sexual images?’”
“There wouldn’t be enough therapists in the world if it did.” She winks and uncrosses her arms. “What about masturbation?”
“Yeah…maybe a few dozen times or so since high school.”
“Have you had more than one sexual partner at a time?”
My eyes grow wide. “You mean like a threesome?”
“That, or just having relations with two men over the same time period.”
“No threesomes. I was out with Theo the first time I had sex with Erik behind the bar. We weren’t officially dating yet, though. We were just hanging with my friend Jewels and her boyfriend. Does that count?”
“Behind the bar?”
I shrug sheepishly. “In the alley.”
Jean stops to write something on her little notepad for the first time since I came in the room. “Do you have sex in public often?”
“No way. It was my first time. What are you writing? Did I flunk some kind of sex test?”
“There aren’t any tests, Kelly. There are warning signs, things that would make me believe that you are, in fact, addicted. The impulsive sex does seem disconcerting, though it doesn’t seem the idea of sex has interrupted your daily life.” She leans back in her chair, studying me. “Tell me about the time you lost your virginity.”
My chest grows tight, and the tears finally break free. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”
Jean hands me a box of tissues. “I’m not here to judge, Kelly. I want to help you understand your actions. I want to help you feel better about yourself, and get you back on the right track.”
“Okay.” I take a long, stuttering breath and wipe at my tears with a tissue. “It was the summer before my junior year of high school. I went with a big group of friends to the house of some guy we knew who was home from college. There was a shit-ton of booze. I had only met the guy throwing the party a few times before. He was nice and everything, but I wasn’t attracted to him. At all. Me and my friends were acting like a bunch of idiots, doing a ton of shots and drinking everything in sight. I blacked out some time in the night. The next thing I remember is waking up in bed next to the guy who threw the party. We were both naked. I knew we had sex right away because there was a dull pain between my legs. I was mortified. I always thought I’d lose my virginity to a boyfriend, and not during some random one night stand thing when I couldn’t even remember doing it.”
“What did this older man have to say?”
“I don’t really remember. It was like I was stuck in some kind of nightmare. I think he said something about having a good time. I got the hell out of there and went out of my way to avoid having to see him ever again. I was so fucking embarrassed.”
“Did you tell your parents what happened?”
I laugh loudly. “Are you kidding me? My mom probably would’ve taken me in for an exorcism if I did. My sister, Sarah, took me to the clinic for birth control when I told her I was having sex my senior year. My mom didn’t know I was having sex until she found out about the married guy. I didn’t think she’d ever speak to me again up until they came out a few days ago. I don’t know what changed, but she kept going on about how sorry she was that she didn’t believe me when I swore I didn’t know there was a sick wife.”
“Did you tell Sarah or any of your other sisters how you lost your virginity?”
“I didn’t tell anyone. The only ones who knew were my friends there that night. Half of them were too messed up to really know what happened.”
“When was the next time you had sex?”
“A few weeks later. I knew the next guy, though. We had been going to school together since elementary. He was one of the most popular guys in our grade and all the girls were dying to hook up with him.”
“Was he your boyfriend?” Jean asks, crossing her legs and tilting her head.
“No. I haven’t really had a lot of boyfriends, and I’ve never been in love. I want to, though. It’s one of the reasons I want to stop having meaningless sex with random guys. I want to make myself wait until I’m in love for once…if that’s possible.”
“Why do you think you kept having ‘meaningless sex’ after the night you lost your virginity?”
“The first time it was because I wanted to experience it when I wasn’t blacked out. The classmate I slept with had been with a lot of girls and really knew what he was doing. I loved it. We hooked up again once during our senior year. Other than that, I would sleep with guys I met at parties and concerts. At one point it was my goal to find the hottest guy in the room and sleep with him. Once I started college I was comfortable having sex for fun without the complication of a relationship. The married guy was the first time in years I considered having an actual boyfriend.”
“And then you came to New York, vowing to change your ways.”
“Basically, yeah.”
“What do you get out of sex, Kelly?”
“I don’t know. I guess it takes me to a place where I don’t have to think, I just feel good.” I ball the damp tissue in my hand, waiting for Jean to tell me I’m every bit as screwed up as I think. “I just love it when a guy really wants me that way, you know?”
She sets her notebook down on the ottoman beside her and leans over her lap with her arms crossed. “Kelly, have you ever considered what happened the night you lost your virginity was a form of rape?”
I blink several times before asking, “What?”
“It’s considered ‘date rape’ when someone you know has sex with you, without your permission.”
“For all I know, I told him it was okay.” I shake my head. “I was so drunk I probably would’ve agreed to get a tattoo on my face.”
“That’s not an excuse. When you’re intoxicated to that degree, even if you drank willingly, you weren’t responsible. And this man was older than you. What he did was also likely considered statutory rape.”
I balk at her, unable to process what she’s saying. Wordlessly, she hands me another tissue. I didn’t even realize I had started crying again.
“I’m normally not much of a crier,” I say with a peaked laugh, dabbing at my eyes.
“That’s because you seem to be a strong young woman, Kelly. By no means are we done with these sessions, but I’m starting to get a good handle on what’s going on in your head. It appears sex with Erik took you to a place where you could avoid your feelings. You felt pleasure while doing it, then guilt and shame came afterwards. It seems to me that you’ve conditioned yourself to want sex with attractive men while somewhere denying yourself the chance to have a real relationship. What we need to work on now is finding a way to break that cycle.”
“So I’m fixable?”
Jean laughs, giving me another one of her genuine smiles. “Yes, Kelly, I think you’re quite ‘fixable.’ It’ll take some time, and we’re going to have to set some boundaries on any relationships you want to try in the future. First thing I want to do is focus on getting you back on your feet and making you confident. The fact that you’re here and you’ve recognized your sexual activity isn’t healthy is already a huge step.”
My head swarms
with her revelations as she stands. I bolt to my feet and crush her with a hug. “Thanks for listening to me. I know it’s your job and everything, but…just…thank you.”
She laughs quietly and pats my back. I’m sure I’ve violated some kind of doctor/patient rule, but for the first time in months, I don’t feel completely broken.
Chapter Fourteen
The first day of fall, I move into the apartment above Flanagan’s just in time for Adam’s cousin Davis to take over my spot in Jewels and Adam’s guest room. It only takes two trips up the rickety old stairs by Jewels, Adam, Chloe, Davis, and myself since my new room is so small, forcing me to leave a few boxes with Jewels until I can find a bigger place.
I don’t have time to unpack before starting my very first shift as a waitress. Dressed in leggings and a v-neck t-shirt with the bar’s name on the back, my hair slicked into a high ponytail, I cross my arms as I appreciate the room. There’s a faint odor of mildew lingering from a burst pipe that once ruined the ceiling, otherwise it’s suitable for my needs. With the quilt my grandma made before she passed away and some framed pictures of me with Jewels from college, it actually feels cozy. Maybe I can find a chair small enough to jam in the corner for times I actually find a moment to read. I feel a rush of pride knowing that I’ll be making my way without relying on anyone else’s generosity.
I’m thrilled when I discover Mick and a sprite-looking little thing named Stella have been tasked with the job of training me in. They’re both astoundingly patient with my limited knowledge. By two a.m. I’m keeping up with them, and hardly ever need to ask for help.
The next few weeks go pretty much the same, burning through the long days of September until they’re just a distant memory. I work long shifts until the bar closes at ungodly hours, sleeping half the following days away before a long run through Central Park, a quick shower that leaves my new roommates, Felicity and Avery, ample hot water, either a visit with Jewels and Chloe if their schedules allow for it or an appointment with Jean, then back to work.
