Four Play: A Collection of Novellas

by Silver, Amalie

  What I’ve said seems to make her soften a little. But I wasn’t pulling a line. And I wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. I meant it. All of it.

  But holy shit, I’m wiped out.

  This is going to be a long fucking day.

  Chapter Twenty

  The longest two days of my life have passed. I was lucky: I only received two slaps to my face and one outright refusal to talk to me.

  But I did it.

  I said my apologies. I made my amends. And my junk was still attached to my body. All in all I consider that a success.

  Oddly enough, I still don’t feel great.

  I suspect it’s going to take some time to forgive myself for what I’ve done. And that’s okay. It’s probably going to take them some time too. But there’s only a week left before we leave for Saint Louis, and I need to speak with Arleen.

  I doubt she’ll be able to get over the fact that I’ve been with so many girls on the debate team, and I’m preparing myself for the cold shoulder. But whether or not she’s willing to take that more-than-friends leap, I’ve been paired with her for this debate. And I still have no idea what the topic is.

  I dig out the piece of paper with her phone number on it and send her a text.

  Hey. Can I see you tonight? We need to go over the debate.

  I wait, and several minutes later I receive her response.

  When/Where?

  I’m hopeful. It’s more of a response than I thought I’d get.

  My house. Nine o’clock.

  After typing in my address, I hit send. Her response is immediate.

  I’ll be there.

  ***

  The problem with trying to fix the Arleen situation is that it’s completely out of my hands. At some point I changed from wanting to protect her to simply needing her beside me.

  Sex is a big issue with us: The girls I’ve been with before. The fact that she thought that’s all I would want from her. I’m not sure how I’ll get her to see that I think of her as more than a walking, talking piece of ass.

  She’ll be here in a half an hour, and all I can do is stare at my stupid spreadsheets. The screen is bright, and I have highlights and notes all over it. I look at each name, scrolling down and making sure that I’ve spoken to every one of them—well, with the exception of Tricia, but we won’t talk about that. If anything I feel like I deserve an apology from her.

  Each cell contains the name of a girl. The corresponding cells highlight the date, the location, and what I did with them. My stomach lurches at the thought of how pathetic this all looks.

  Empty cells cross the document and are highlighted in yellow. The only open spot is Number Ten.

  The spot underneath that says nothing but ‘Katie Shields.’ I shake my head at my immature behavior for the past few years.

  At the time it seemed perfectly normal. Logical. At the time, nothing else mattered but getting my dick wet. There’s no way I would’ve known what I was doing was fucked up if Arleen hadn’t had come into my life when she did and opened my mind to other possibilities.

  I owe her an explanation of some kind. I owe her my future. How do you tell someone something like that and not sound like a complete asshat?

  Hey Arleen, thanks for helping me see the light. And thanks for proving to me just how small my testicles can shrink. By the way, you wanna screw? Because you’re different from those other girls I’ve fucked.

  Yeah, I’m sure she’d believe that.

  Fueled on frustration, I storm to the bathroom and get in the shower. By the time I step out, I hear the doorbell.

  I race for my clothes and try to get them onto my wet body. It takes me twice as long as usual, and I run down the steps, pulling my shirt over my head. The outside light is on and Arleen’s shadow can be seen through the window next to the front door.

  I stumble in the entry, and open the door from a kneeling position. She squints and looks down at me.

  There’s barely a hint of a smile on her face, and I can tell she wants to make a joke. But she doesn’t.

  “Come in,” I say, getting off my knees and opening the door wide. “And please, before you say anything, come in and sit on the couch. I want to try to explain myself.” I feel like I’ve spent half my life lately explaining myself to this girl. But she deserves it.

  Deliberating for some time, she hesitates in coming into the living room. She’s conflicted, and I know she’s probably just as confused as I am, but I have to put it all on the table. I can’t hold back now. I’ve gotten her here, in my home, and I know I won’t get another chance like this.

  Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail tonight, and her eyes look tired. She throws her backpack on the floor and sits down.

  “How is your brother feeling?” I begin, starting with a different subject in order to get a feel for her attitude.

  “Better, thanks.” She keeps her head down and nestles into the corner of the couch.

  “Good.” I nod, and am suddenly scared as shit to tell her how I feel.

  I sit on the chair across from her and try not to wuss out.

  “I know that you probably hate me right now,” I say, pausing in hope that she’ll interrupt me and say that I’m wrong. But she stays quiet. Ouch. “But it’s really important to me that you hear me out.”

  She nods. “I’m here, Simon. I don’t hate you, but I’m not your biggest fan either.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “I’ve done some really shitty things. Things that I couldn’t possibly explain in detail right now—”

  “I don’t want…details.”

  I laugh. “No! Not that. I mean, I can’t even begin to figure out how to explain to you why I’ve done what I’ve done, but it wasn’t because I’ve been some horny teenager. I mean,” I hesitate, “not only because I’m a horny teenager.” The joke was a bad one and Arleen’s smile looked more like a grimace.

  “Simon, if this is some song and dance so you can get me naked, keep dreaming, Romeo. Because I can tell you right now, no amount of charm in the world is getting these pants off me tonight.”

  “No! It’s not like that, I swear! I won’t sleep with you—ever—”

  Arleen flinched and I realized how that sounded. Great! I was making a mess of this! Brain and mouth, please disengage!

  “I meant, I won’t sleep with you if you don’t want me to. Of course I want to! I mean look at you! You’re sexy as hell. And I’d love to see you naked. Your rack is amazing.” Oh God, why can’t I shut up?

  I clear my throat and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Okay, forget I just said all that.” Please? “I just want you try to understand why I am the way I am.”

  She nods, her jaw tight. “Then by all means, continue.”

  I clear my throat again. I’m going to do this. I’m going to throw up my sordid history into her lap. Is she ready for it?

  Am I ready for it?

  Well here goes nothin’.

  “I lost my virginity almost two years ago. And my reasons for sleeping with her were stupid.” I roll my eyes, thinking about Miss Shields. “I had this vision of who I wanted to be by the time I was eighteen, and I’ve only just realized—in the past few days, actually—that the person I became was ugly. So, so ugly.” I bow my head and scratch my temple. “I’m not saying this to charm you, or woo you, or get you into my bed. I’m telling you this because I’ve realized how important you are to me. Probably the most important person I’ve ever met. And we’re so much alike. You can’t see it because I haven’t told you about my life.” I realize I’m jabbering like an idiot, but I can’t stop. My mouth is like a runaway train.

  “You’ve had it so much worse than I have, but those feelings of detachment and keeping people at arm’s length are there for me, too. My parents suck. They’re never around. I feel like I’m more of an inconvenience than their son most of the time. I know how it feels to have your parents leave. And I know how hard it is to feel like you had to do it on your own. Your
situation is in a completely different league from mine—so much that it’s almost incomprehensible —but on some level, I understand you.”

  She closes her eyes and sniffs, lifting her head.

  “I know it hurts, Arleen. I know what it’s like to think the people who were supposed to love you left you when you needed them the most.” I choke on my words.

  Arleen isn’t even looking at me. She’s staring at a spot just over my shoulder. Her eyes are wide and glassy and I’m not entirely sure she’s hearing me.

  “I realize that you and I can’t be more than friends right now, but I’d really like to keep you in my life.”

  She finally looks at me, her face clearing, her eyes fixed on mine.

  “Please, Arleen? Let me keep you?”

  She slouches in her seat and wipes her eyes. “I’m not going to be able to trust you for a long time.”

  I nod and smile. “That’s okay. I’m probably not going to be able to trust me, either.”

  Arleen shakes her head. “I don’t know, Simon,” she says, and I can see her resolve ease a little.

  I don’t want to push her for more. I know instinctively it would be too much. And even though I’m a little disappointed, I accept that it will take some time.

  I get up and walk to her, holding out my hand. “Come on.” I motion toward the steps. “We have a debate to research.”

  Her hand slips into mine, and I take it as a positive sign and we walk upstairs.

  “Your house is huge,” she says, taking in the vaulted ceilings, hand-crafted banister, and the six doors she can see as we reach the top of the steps. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this nice before.”

  We walk past the bathroom, and my dirty boxers and T-shirt are lying on the floor from my shower. Reluctantly, I let go of her hand and grab a tissue from the counter and hand it to her. “My room is right there,” I say quickly, “Go in and start Googling. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Her cheeks blush on the way to my room, and I’m certain she saw my underwear. Great. Because this night couldn’t get any more awkward.

  I try to be quick, cleaning up the water I’d spilled getting out of the shower and piling the dirty laundry into the hamper. I take a towel and wipe off the counter, making sure that it looks clean enough. No sense in her thinking I’m a slob as well as a manwhore.

  My reflection catches my eye, and my hair is a mess. After rubbing my hands through it to make myself somewhat presentable, I hear footsteps running through the hall.

  Just as I’m opening the bathroom door, Arleen runs past and down the stairs. I can’t figure out why she’s in such a hurry. What the hell is going on?

  “Arleen, where are you going?” I call out, but she’s already opening the front door.

  “Arleen?” I race after her, and by the time I get to my front door she’s pulling out of my driveway.

  I sweep my hands through my hair, frustrated. My panted breaths make the condensation smoke in the cool night air.

  I don’t understand. I thought things were going okay. What happened? Why is she in such a hurry?

  Walking back into my house, I look around, still trying to make sense of it all.

  Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I race upstairs and into my room.

  Sitting on my desk is my laptop. It’s open and the screensaver is off. My eyes zone in to the spreadsheet where Number Ten is blank and highlighted in yellow.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next few days blur together. Before I know it, I’m packing for Saint Louis. The bus comes in the morning, and I realize I haven’t done laundry.

  Arleen hasn’t called, and when I’ve seen her in school, she hasn’t spoken to me. I’ve tried texting and calling, but she won’t respond. On Tuesday I had a plan to corner her before class, but she took a different way to avoid seeing me.

  I know that game well. I was the master of dodge the psycho.

  And now I have to spend the weekend with Miss Shields. On top of that, I haven’t thought or cared to find out what our debate will be about. Everything is a mess, and once again I feel out of control.

  I’m not upset with Arleen. She’s going to hate me for a long time. And no matter how much it crushes me to think it, I know she has every right.

  I fucked up. I was wrong. Now I have to live with the consequences.

  My phone vibrates, and I check the text. It’s from Miss Shields.

  I hope you’re packing. ;) See you in the parking lot at 5am. I’m very much looking forward to this weekend.

  This is a fucking nightmare.

  ***

  The drive to Saint Louis is long. It’s a nine-hour bus ride, and the only stops we make are for food. Arleen has avoided me like the plague, and makes sure to sit as far away from me as she can.

  Miss Shields, on the other hand, is entirely too close for comfort. She occasionally flips her hair to expose her neck, or crosses her legs and runs a finger down her calf. I know what that would’ve done to me a few weeks ago, but instead it only grates on my nerves.

  I know one thing for sure: I am not having sex with Miss Shields this weekend. No way.

  When our bus arrives downtown, Miss Shields stands. “All right, everyone! We’re going to be at the hotel in about five minutes. Make sure you’ve paired up and you know who you’ll be sharing rooms with. If you could all stay in the lobby until I’ve checked us in, then I can hand out everyone’s keys. I want this to run smoothly, so please make sure you’re on your best behavior.”

  I watch her sit back down, adjusting her skirt to cover her legs. But as I look down, the lace of her thigh-high can be seen. I look back up to where Arleen is sitting a few rows back, and she’s watching me. Her eyes narrow as she realizes where I’d been focusing my attention.

  I’m sure she pieced it together. I don’t know how many spreadsheets she got to, but it was obvious that Katie Shields was on my to-do list. Her name was below Number Ten and highlighted. Arleen probably thinks I’m not only delusional, but that I had intention of using her as a stepping stone to get to Miss Shields.

  What a wreck.

  We get into the hotel lobby, and there are hundreds of students standing around. Miss Shields quickly ushers us into a corner, and we’re all squished together so that we’re not standing in the main aisle. Our luggage is crammed in with us.

  Arleen is directly in front of me. She’s so close I can smell her. My palms begin to sweat, and I want to reach out and hold her down so she’ll listen. I want her to know that what she saw on that screen showed the idiot I was, not the moron I am today.

  I shake my head and chuckle to myself. I am a complete moron, aren’t I? Arleen turns her head to the side and sees the smile on my face. But I can’t remove it fast enough. She looks down and begins pushing her way through the crowd. She runs to the bathroom, covering her face so I can’t see her expression.

  I step out from our group and try to follow her, but Miss Shields stops me. “Oh, Simon.” She smiles shyly. “Here’s your key.” Handing me the small folder with the card, her hand lingers on mine for a moment before she heads toward the rest of the group.

  “Everyone gather around, please…” I hear Miss Shields begin, but I set off to find Arleen.

  I open the bathroom door slowly, and look around the room to make sure no one sees me enter. The door creaks, and there are two women standing at the sinks. I close the door quickly and back out of the room.

  “Wrong bathrooms, Simon.” Miss Shields says from behind me. “Go up to the room and put your things away. We need to meet in the conference room for the Welcome Dinner in twenty minutes. No time to dillydally.”

  I nod and drag my bags to the elevator.

  Once I enter the room, if there was any question as to what Miss Shields had planned for us this weekend, it was definitely answered. My debate coach clearly intended for something extravagant.

  She booked two adjoining suites. “This room sure beats what I had last year,” I
mutter, looking around. The suite has two bedrooms, one on each side of the main living area. The upholstery is white. Everything is white—from the curtains to the couch cushions. The beds are all draped in white linens, and even the blanket on the back of the armchair is white. The only color in the room is the dark green carpet used throughout the entire hotel, and black granite countertops in the kitchen. The place is immaculate, and I can only imagine how much she paid for these rooms.

  But the fancy shit doesn’t impress me. My parents keep their house just as sterile as this room. I’d rather be with Arleen at the ruins any day over this.

  I set my bags down and meet up with some other students in the elevator as we walk toward the conference room.

  I look around for Arleen, but can’t spot her right away. Miss Shields is also a no-show, but she’s probably taking care of last-minute hotel business.

  I grab a plate of food and sit down with my team.

  “You ready for the debate, Simon?” Mallory asks, sitting a few seats down.

  I nod and chomp down on my salad. “Sure.”

  “What stance will you be taking on it?” she pries.

  Shit, I don’t even know what the debate is about. I shrug.

  “Let me guess: It’s a no-brainer?” she laughs.