Nobody's Fantasy
Page 6
LOLA
“Oh my goodness.” When I walk into one of the back rooms at the no-kill shelter, it’s like landing in doggy heaven except for the knowledge that all of these adorable dogs have either been abused or abandoned. I shake my head trying to clear the sad thoughts because I’m not here to pity them; I’m here because I want to do whatever I can to help.
They are already way too excited without me adding to it but at the back of the room, there’s a tan cocker spaniel that reminds me so much of Monty, my aunt Erin’s dog. Erin and my mum’s brother, Ben lived across the courtyard from us in Manchester from before I was born right up until we moved to Seattle when I was seven and so even though he wasn’t my dog, Monty was a constant presence in my life for all those years.
I feel so homesick all of a sudden because I desperately wish that there was somebody else here to agree with me that he does look exactly like Monty. Mats would have been too young to really remember Monty – he was only a toddler when he died – and everybody else that knew him is back in Seattle. I could snap a quick photo of him and send it to Erin but I know she still has a Monty-shaped hole in her heart and it would upset her too much to see almost an exact replica of her beloved dog at a place like this.
Sherry, one of the employees at the shelter, lets me into the pen and I kneel down at the side of Jericho, the cocker spaniel. He isn’t like the other dogs, who are all yapping and jumping around, desperate for attention. He looks so sad and downtrodden I want to give him a cuddle but I know that would probably make him anxious so instead I sit on the scratchy beige carpet and gently talk to him. He shifts a little and I can see he’s got a bright yellow bandage on his leg. It’s like he’s sharing a secret with me.
I play with the other dogs and chat to Sherry but I can feel Jericho watching me the whole time.
Zev had offered to pick me up but when I walk out to the parking lot, he’s on crutches and isn’t wearing his prosthetic. “What happened?”
“I’ve got a rash on my stump,” he winces, “so the doc says I can’t wear my prosthetic for a couple of days.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way down here. I could have got Mats to pick me up.”
“I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to, hot stuff besides I got you an even better driver than your brother,” he smirks.
“Ugh,” Emmy scowls, “you owe me big time for this, Zev.”
As I help him climb into Emmy’s car, he whispers in my ear, “am I a genius or what for getting her down here to witness you volunteering at her favourite shelter?”
I gawp at him, “are you only pretending that you’ve got a rash?”
“No, I’ve definitely got a rash in all it’s dry, itchy, pus-filled glory. I can show it to you if you don’t believe me?”
Emmy must have heard the last part of the conversation because she scoffs, “yeah, right. Like Little Miss Prissy Knickers would want to see that.”
“You’re wrong, Emmy. Little Miss Prissy Knickers would love to see your rash, Zev.”
“You’d better not upchuck all over my car.”
“Do you know what my favourite movie is?” I ask.
She looks puzzled by my change of subject. “It’s probably some sappy chick flick.”
“Nope, it’s The Godfather.’
“OK?”
“Do you remember the scene in The Godfather when the guy is getting a massage and he gets shot right in his glasses and his eye bleeds out? I love that scene.”
Emmy actually looks shocked.
“You think you’re so much tougher than me because you tattoo people all day but you go home at night to your fantasy world of ever-changing hair colours and cute little puppies.” I lift up my gammy leg. “I live with this ugliness every day of my life so don’t think that a harmless little rash is going to gross me out because it’s not. My hair might still be it’s natural colour and you might think I dress like a square but don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I’m this ditsy little princess with my head in the clouds because I’m not.”
I can feel Zev trying really hard not to laugh next to me, which isn’t exactly the reaction I was going for. I feel like one of the puppies in those YouTube videos, who’s convinced that they’ve just roared like a lion but really they’ve just squeaked like a startled guinea pig.
Zev’s wearing athletic shorts so he doesn’t have to pull his trousers down for me to see his stump, he can just roll up the hem. He peels back the bandage a little so I can see. It’s not as bad as I expected, it just looks red and sore.
“Are you going to be all right to work?” I ask as he covers it back up again.
“Yeah,” Zev explains. “I’ve rearranged my big pieces and just kept the ones I can do sitting down.”
“Will you let me know if you need anything?” I ask, squeezing his hand.
“Ugh, you two are so annoying,” Emmy mutters from the front seat.
“Don’t start with us, Emmy,” Zev chuckles, “or I’ll get Little Miss Prissy Knickers here to kick your ass.”
Emmy responds by cranking the radio way up so she can’t hear us anymore.
“How did it go at the shelter?” Zev whispers in my ear.
“It was amazing actually.” I tell him about Jericho and the other dogs.
When we get to my house, I ask Zev if he wants to come inside. Mats has already left for his date with Vada and although I’m disappointed that I missed what I’m sure was an epic freak-out from my brother, I’m kind of looking forward to spending some alone time with Zev.
I know he wants to take things slow so I try to make it clear that I’m not looking to jump his bones. “You could sleep on the couch. It’s got to be better than trying to struggle up the stairs to your apartment?”
“I don’t want your pity, hot stuff,” Zev says, “besides I’ll have you know that I’m a whizz at getting up and down stairs on only one leg.”
“I’m sure you are.” Chastened by his obvious brush-off, I smooth down my skirt and climb out of the back of Emmy’s car. Fortunately she’s switched the radio off so I’m not going to get any noise complaints from our neighbours. But it also means that my arch-nemesis can now hear every word of this super awkward conversation. Ugh, I want to pound the pavement with frustration, why out of all the nearly one million people in Oahu does it have to be Emmy that witnesses me getting rejected like this?
“Thanks again for the ride, Emmy,” I say through gritted teeth because I might not be a badass but I’ve got manners.
Emmy nods. She doesn’t need to say anything. She knows she’s won this round.
I trudge up the steps to the front porch, feeling the need for a pint of ice cream and a trashy TV marathon. As I fumble in my pockets for my keys, I curse my brother for like the gazillionth time for being such a zealous vegan. If we do have ice cream, it’s probably made from coconut milk or something equally healthy. I can’t even eat my feelings properly.
I hear my name being called and when I turn around, Zev is hobbling on his crutches up the lawn. He’s leaving divots all over the place which I know will annoy my brother but I don’t care, it’s his fault that we don’t have proper ice cream in our freezer.
“What’s up?” Emmy’s gone now but I still put on my badass persona. “Did you forget something?”
“I’m sorry,” he gulps. It looks like he finds it just as difficult to apologise as I do. “I was a jerk to you back there.”
I turn around to face him. “You have every right not to want to come inside with me, Zev. I just hated feeling like a fool in front of Emmy when five minutes previously I’d been trying to convince her that I’m a badass.”
“You are a badass.” It would be way more convincing if his lips weren’t twitching with amusement.
His arms look tired from using his crutches so I suggest we sit down on the porch steps.
“Do you want me to call you an Uber?”
“You can,” he puts his crutches to one side, “but my name’s actu
ally Zev.”
“Oh my goodness,” I roll my eyes so much I’m sure they’re in danger of dislocating. “You’re such a goof.” It does make me laugh though.
“I like making you laugh,” Zev smiles, bumping shoulders with me.
“I don’t like having to rely on other people for help,” he admits. “When I’ve got my prosthetic on, I can walk up the stairs and drive my car, no problem. It’s almost like I’m normal again but then something like this stupid rash happens and it reminds me that I’m not. I hate it.”
“I can totally understand that,” I give his hand a squeeze. “If I’m in the house by myself, I can pretend that my accident never happened too because how often do you really look down and study your own leg? So I forget about it and when I have to go to the supermarket, I pull on a pair of cut-off shorts or something and at first when I get weird looks, I convince myself that they’re looking at me like that because I’m having a really good hair day but then a little kid points and stares directly at my gammy leg and I’m like, ugh, I’m such an idiot, what the heck was I thinking?”
“I don’t pity you, Zev. I couldn’t even if I wanted to because you’re one of the toughest guys I know and hello, you look like that.” He laughs which makes me feel really good. “I only said that about you staying here instead of going back to your apartment because I didn’t want you to think that I was coming on to you or something. I mean, I know you said before that you didn’t want to rush things…”
“You know I’ve never seen The Godfather?” Zev blurts out
“What?” My voice is so shrill I’m sure I’m going to be getting noise complaints after all. “How is that even possible?”
He chuckles, “I’m guessing you’ve got a copy?”
“Of course, it was the first thing I packed when I decided to move here even though Mats won’t watch it with me because he gets grossed out by the whole horse’s head in the bed thing.”
Zev raises an eyebrow, “horse’s head in the what now?”
“You’re going to love it,” I giggle, reaching out a hand to help him up off the steps.
I wake up when Mats gets home from his date with Vada and realise I must have fallen asleep on the couch with Zev. I’ve literally got the most comfortable bed in the whole entire world; my mattress is memory-foam and it’s got this perfect me-shaped dip in the centre which makes me feel like I’m being hugged all night long but it’s still not enough to tempt me to drag my behind up off the couch and away from Zev. I’ve got my head in his lap and who’d have thought that muscly thighs would make such a comfy pillow?
When I look up at Zev, he’s still asleep. At least I’m assuming so because although he’s got his eyes closed, he’s not making any noise. I’m not really used to being around somebody who’s so peaceful when they sleep. Mats doesn’t snore but he snuffles and he also likes to fling his arms and legs out like a starfish. I feel like there should be a constant ding-ding-ding noise because Zev is just scoring excellent potential boyfriend points all over the place. Firstly, he now loves The Godfather almost as much as I do, secondly, he’s got lovely thigh-pillows and most importantly, unlike my sister, he doesn’t snore at all. I’ve got to think that the women in Oahu are stupid because how has he not been snapped up by now?
“How did it go?” I mouth to Mats.
“Good,” he mouths back but I can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile so I know it went way better than good. Before I can press for more details, he’s heading up the stairs to bed so I lay my head back down on Zev’s comfy thigh pillows (I’m going to have to think of a better word for them because the more I say it, the creepier it sounds) and close my eyes.
ZEV
“Tell me about your first time?” Jane asks. She loves volunteering at the no-kill shelter so much that I’ve started coming with her if I’m not working. We’re walking several of the dogs including Jane’s favourite, Jericho.
My rash has completely gone now and they’ve changed the lining of my prosthetic so hopefully it shouldn’t flare up again. It feels so good to actually be able to walk again and not have to rely on my crutches and the kindness of friends and family to get anywhere.
“You really want to know about my first time?” I cough. We haven’t done anything apart from kissing and over the clothes touching so far.
“Yeah,” she reaches down and gently pats the top of Jericho’s head. “What’s wrong?” she asks when I don’t say anything, “was it that bad?”
My male pride kicks in, “it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great; I mean I’ve definitely got better with practice.”
She wrinkles her nose up at the thought of all that “practice” and I have to smile, “you asked, hot stuff.”
“Who was it with?” She suddenly stops. “Ew, was it somebody I know?”
“It was Sam,” I admit, “I told you we were childhood sweethearts. She was my first.”
“Wow,” Jane says but she’s too far ahead of me, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“How old were you?”
I tug at my lip ring, trying to remember, “I was fifteen, she was a couple of months older than me so she would have been sixteen. It was in the very romantic setting of the back of her parents’ Suburban while we were supposed to be babysitting her baby brother.”
Jane nods and then turns her attention back to the dogs. “Hey,” I say as she kneels down to pick up after one of them, “you’re not getting away that easily. I’ve told you mine, I want to know about yours.”
“Not happening,” she smiles.
“Jane, we’re together, you kind of have to tell me.” We haven’t had the exclusivity talk yet but I’m sure as hell not seeing anybody else and I don’t think she is either.
“That’s not what Cosmo says,” she insists. “I only really have to tell you if I have an STD or not and I don’t so…”
I roll my eyes, “you’re being annoying.”
“I know,” she smiles, “my sister says I’m excellent at it.”
“Was it bad?” I tease, throwing her words back at her.
“Nope.”
“I bet it was something super sappy like on the beach at sunset surrounded by flickering candles.”
Jane huffs, “even I know nothing good ever comes of trying to have sex on the beach.”
I know she doesn’t have a lot of experience but surely she doesn’t mean that she’s… “Jane?”
She turns her back to me and we’re almost back at the shelter so she doesn’t have to talk to me while we get the dogs settled back inside.
LOLA
I don’t know what made me start this incredibly stupid conversation. My mum always said that my natural curiosity was going to get me into trouble one day, turns out today’s the day. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to know more about your partner’s previous sexual experiences if you’re planning on bumping uglies with them at some point in the future. I actually think that it’s the responsible thing to do. I just wish I had a better answer to Zev’s question, that’s all. I guess I could always make something up but since Zev’s still calling me Jane, I think there are already too many untruths surrounding our relationship.
I stomp across the parking lot to where Zev’s car is parked, wondering if I can get away with the quickest ever onset of an ear infection which has rendered me completely deaf just for the duration of the car journey home.
I can’t make up a good devirginizing story but I bet I’d be amazing at faking an ear infection.
“Jane,” Zev sighs when he eventually joins me in the car.
“What’s up?” I’m so busy trying to be all cool and nonchalant that I forget that I was supposed to be pretending to have an ear infection, darn it.
“You know what’s up?”
“Buttercup?” I suggest, thankful for my eclectic musical tastes.
Zev rolls his eyes at me.
I detour into cartoons, “Doc?” I try to be cute and pretend to be Bugs Bunny.
Huh, the implication that he could have something to pass judgment on annoys the heck out of me. “The fact that I’m a virgin just means that I have exceptionally high standards and it does not give you the right to…” I’m cut off from protesting further by Zev kissing me.
“What was that for?” I ask. I’m a little breathless when he finally pulls back.
“Telling me the truth.”
“You kissed me like that because I told you I’m a virgin? What would you have done if I’d told you I’d slept with hundreds of men?”
“I’d have kissed you just the same but I’d perhaps have brushed my teeth afterwards.”
“Hey,” I give his shoulder a shove, “don’t be a slut-shamer. If I had actually slept with hundreds of men, it wouldn’t have made me any lesser of a person, you know?”
“Of course not,” Zev’s lips are twitching, “just very productive.”
“OK,” I turn to face him, “how many women have you slept with then? I want an exact number.”
“I thought Cosmo said I didn’t have to tell you anything apart from whether I’ve got an STD or not?”
“Don’t turn my words against me, mister,” I prod him in the chest.
“I’ve slept with six women,” Zev admits, “and I haven’t nor have I ever had an STD.”
“Six,” I look at him aghast. He’s gorgeous, why has he denied all but six of the luckiest women on the planet from being up close and personal with all that hotness?
“Don’t reverse slut-shame me, hot stuff. I told you I was with Sam for a long time and I’m not a cheater.”
“I’m not shaming you,” I quickly check my jaw to make sure it hasn’t dropped to my chest, “I’m just shocked, that’s all. If I looked like you, I’d be whoring myself all over town.”
We’re stopped at traffic lights so Zev leans over and kisses the tip of my nose, “no, you wouldn’t but it’s good to know that you think I’m sexy.”