by Ryan Schow
Total and complete silence, that was her answer. What was really going on in that brain of hers was most assuredly atom-bomb-type thoughts. She would be thinking words like obnoxious dick, and betrayal, and hatred. He understood.
Again, she wouldn’t be wrong.
“Good thing for you is I don’t really judge you for your transgressions,” he said. “I mean, we’re no saints, Jules. The truth is, we’re assholes, and the sooner we admit it, the sooner we can get on being the happy little couple again.”
“You really think I’m an asshole?” she asked, her mood shifting to truth.
“I absolutely think you’re an asshole,” he said with traces of laughter in his voice. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do bad things to you, or help give birth to the thing inside you. Did I ever tell you I delivered babies before?”
“You what?”
“Yep. Triplets. One was stillborn, but the other two lived.”
“You’re so full of shit right now,” she said, but he could tell she was slowly letting go, slowly surrendering to the gravitational pull between them.
“I’m not full of shit. It happened. It was awful, and I’ll never look at the vagina the same way again, but it most definitely happened.”
“Whose baby was it?”
“It doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is you’re the kind of girl who needs someone like me to put up with you and all of your drama. I’m not perfect. Never will be. And I’m not always nice and I don’t always do the right thing. But I am a man and I have needs and desires. I won’t apologize for it. And I won’t apologize for all of the stupid things yet to come, because I guarantee you that—due to no fault of my own—I’ll most definitely do more stupid things. So will you. But I won’t demand an apology when that happens because we’re human beings. We’re damaged. And that’s just that.”
“You really slept with Constance?” she asked. Finally a question. “It’s not just a ploy to get me back?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said.
She gave a heavy sigh of relief then said, “I knew it, you liar.”
“I didn’t sleep with her, I had sex with her. It’s two very different things.”
More silence.
“What, Jules?” he asked in a tone he was using to temper her anger. “What are you thinking about? I want to know.”
“I don’t know if I want you all the way in me or all the way out of my life. I mean, it’s like, this whole thing—I think I’m either turned on, or repulsed, and I’m honestly not sure which it is.”
“I’m going to hang up in a minute, and so are you,” he said. “But first, I want you to simply be quiet and listen. When you hang up, go unlock your door, turn your heater up two degrees and put the Nina Simone channel on Pandora. Then light two candles, take off all your clothes, and wait for me in bed. You have exactly six minutes before I get there so don’t waste a second’s time. If when I’m done with you, if you’re not fully convinced you want to keep me, then tell me to leave and I’ll go.”
She started to speak, but he cut her off and said, “Six minutes, Jules,” and hung up.
2
The phone rang seconds after he hung up. He didn’t answer it. He climbed into a pair of clean sweats and threw on a t-shirt; in his dresser drawer were two condoms—he grabbed them both and headed out the door. In exactly six minutes, he took Julie’s door handle in his hand, held his breath then turned it…
….and it opened.
Inside two big candles were lit, Nina Simone was playing, and for the first time since he met her, Julie was standing in the candlelight completely nude, hidden not by the dark, blankets or clothing. His breath caught audibly.
“Oh my God, you’re beautiful,” he said.
He closed the door, went to her, didn’t even speak. He just started kissing her until his clothes were off and they were entangled in each other. When he took her, it wasn’t as aggressive as how he took Aniela and Becky, but she didn’t need that. He had the feeling Emery was an aggressive lover, so he was the opposite: a sensitive lover taking his time, savoring each moment, reading her every cue.
Her breath burned his neck. Her mouth was steady panting, some nibbling and plenty of kissing. Her hands were claws she raked lightly then heavily down his back, her legs entwining his, making them one. She pushed onto him, slowly at first, then deeper, more needy.
Her heart raced; his galloped.
He couldn’t believe it. He was actually having sex not only with Julie Sanderson, but with a pregnant Julie Sanderson. Not in a million years, he thought.
The realization alone nearly made him burst, but he held on, refusing to go before she did. He was many things, but he was certainly not an impolite lover. Her joy felt like his joy; her ecstasy was his as well—that’s why he held on so tight. With every ebb and flow of their bodies, he found himself falling more and more for her. And when it was over, when they both finished and he laid there winded and spent, Julie glanced over at him and said, “Where in the world did you learn to do it like that?”
“Pinterest,” he replied.
That got her laughing, but then she fell quiet and curled into his arms. Finally, she said, “I’m jealous Constance got you before me.” He decided not to say anything, because really, what the hell was he going to say? “Was she good? I mean, better than me?”
“If I said your brother taught your sister well, would you feel like a total hillbilly?”
She laughed again, then said, “Step-sister, Brayden. Step-brother. The nuclear family is more of a starter kit for the step family than it is a permanent situation. Not being blood related, you really can’t say it’s incest. Or indecent.”
“Whatever humps your camel,” he said coolly, nuzzling into her. “Besides, I think it’s sexy you have a hot sister you sleep with. You’re practically every guys’ fantasy.” Gently rolling her left nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it as it stiffened, he said, “Can I stay the night? I just want to lay with you for awhile. Fall asleep beside you.”
When she nodded and smiled, he kissed her on the nape of the neck a couple of times then buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scent of her. He loved the way she smelled, all of those nectar-sweet scents he couldn’t identify, and he wondered if they could be different people together, or if they would end up making each other’s lives unbearable. In the end it didn’t really matter because he wanted her, if only because he’d spent so much time hating her.
“Why do you like me, Brayden?” she asked as he was vanishing softly into sleep. She asked this as she held him, as she ran her hands across his nearly shaved scalp.
The truth was, he liked Julie because of how she looked, and in typical guy fashion, he wanted to see her body naked and go down on her, and maybe do her a few times to get it out of his system. What he never imagined was that he would like her like her because she really was a mean bitch. That and she was knocked-up with Emery’s kid. The more he thought about it, the more he realized everything about her was taboo, downright immoral. The worst choice of a girl ever. Maybe that was what turned him on so much about her, that everyone said she was bad news, but being that guy doing that girl, for him that was kinda hot.
Some opinions matter, though.
Raven said to dump her. Raven, who was really Abby and once Savannah. Brayden did what he set out to do, which was make Abby (Raven) jealous. At least he thought she was jealous. He wanted to be with Abby, but Raven wasn’t the Abby he’d fallen so desperately for. Raven had some other agenda that had her firmly off the reservation. He wondered, has she lost it entirely?
It was possible.
She was disappearing regularly, and when he was with her she was coming apart at the seams, as in super agitated and not herself at all. Then there was Cameron. Julie’s ex-bestie who hated the idea of her and Brayden so much she banished Julie from their group. No one had seen Cameron for days. And Jules wanted nothing to do with her. Rumor was she was ill, o
r something, but it wasn’t that. Whatever Raven did, it was so horrific Cameron remained in hiding. Or she was hurt. Aside from that, he had to fashion an answer for Jules.
He wondered, why do I like you the way I do?
“I like you because I expected you to be so much worse,” he said, groggily, “and here you have gone and surprised me. Plus I love your ass. And I love the way your skin and hair smells.”
“If only we were decent people, right?” she mused.
“If only.”
It was the last thing he said before drifting off to sleep.
3
The next morning, he went upstairs and knocked on Cameron’s door, not sure what he would find, but what he found was she was at least alive enough to tell “whomever it was” to go away, that she wasn’t feeling well.
He never said a word; he just turned and went, satisfied she was breathing. On the way down the hall, he ran into the non-triplets and that was an awkward conversation. Cicely asked what he was doing and he said checking on Cameron and they were like, “What for?”
“I heard she was sick, but after what happened with Abby, how everything backfired, I thought maybe…I don’t know…it’s just…no one’s seen or heard from her in awhile.”
“So?” Tempest said, her eyes blank.
Last year Tempest, then Bridget, nearly got suspended for hitting Cameron in the face with a lunch tray, so he wasn’t expecting gobs of sympathy from her, and she didn’t disappoint.
“It’s good to see you,” Georgia said, switching subjects.
Brayden didn’t understand their history all that well. He was crushing on Georgia for awhile, but then her DNA got all screwed up and now she could wield fire with her mind. He was scared of her, yet he was still physically attracted to her. He didn’t want to hook up, then get in a lover’s quarrel some day and end up with third degree burns. It was a reasonable fear he had.
“Have you heard from Abby at all?” Tempest asked. Now he saw worry in her eyes, and the hurt she had for Abby not calling.
“I haven’t.”
He looked at Georgia and wondered if she knew that Raven was Abby and the Abby stand-in was a fraud. Her eyes gave nothing away. She smiled at him, and he remembered her in Vegas, how she looked in the bathtub, how he wished he would’ve slept with her because—being back to herself again—he figured he’d never get the chance.
“If you hear from her,” Cicely said, “will you have her call us?”
He nodded solemnly knowing she wouldn’t call because he’d never speak to Abby the imposter again. She was gone, back home with her folks. Away from Astor Academy and its über dysfunctional occupants.
“Are you serious about Julie?” Tempest blurted out.
With the smell of her still on his skin, with the taste of her kiss lingering on his mouth, he said, “She’s serious about me and I’m just seeing where it’s going.”
“She’s a total dick, though,” Tempest replied.
“Yep,” he said.
“And you like that?”
“She provides me with a certain level of entertainment,” he joked.
Tempest said, “You make her sound cute and amusing.”
“The real reason I’m with her,” he said, giving Tempest the eyes, “is because you and I are not a couple, so really I’m settling for her until I find a way to get with you.”
“I thought you had a thing for Georgia,” Cicely said with mischief in her voice.
“He just said he had a thing for me,” Tempest teased.
“Would it be crazy if I had a thing for all of you?” he joked. “Seriously, when it comes to you three, I’m soooooo not picky at all. Yet I am.”
Tempest leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, then looked at the other two girls and said, “Just so you know, he just admitted that he chose me first.”
“Actually, as much as I adore you, my heart’s with Georgia,” he said, looking at Georgia, who all but melted beneath that look.
The way they were, how they were fun and all, maybe that was why he absolutely loved them, and it was most definitely why he missed them.
He looked back at Tempest, something mischievous in his eye. “However, when you’re ready to take our flirtationship to the next level,” he teased, playing lightly with Tempest’s hair, “just text me. If that doesn’t ever happen, please don’t judge me by the poor company I keep.”
“Just remember,” Georgia said, “they don’t call her Julie Satan because she’s cute and amusing.”
“No,” he said, “they call her that because she’s an asshole.” That said, he gave them the biggest smile ever, said he had to go, then blew them all kisses and headed for the elevator.
Going down, he couldn’t stop thinking of the non-triplets. By choosing Julie, he was not only dropping his social proof with them, and Raven, he wondered if he was ruining his reputation with the entire student body as well. Not that it mattered. Sex with Julie was super hot, and she was messed up enough to be interesting. So really, if he was entertained, did his social proof matter? He told himself he didn’t really care what anyone else at Astor thought. The minute he agonized over the opinions of others was the minute he lost touch with himself.
Back in his room, he got a call from Cicely, who said, “I know you don’t want to talk about you and Julie, but I have to ask, is this about Abby? Is that why you’re dating her?”
“Why would it be about Abby?”
“You were in love with her,” Cicely replied, matter-of-fact.
“I still am,” he said.
“We all miss her,” Cicely said, “but she’s changed. After the accident, that part of her we knew, it just…it’s just gone. And now she’s gone.”
“She is.”
“I just didn’t want you turning to Julie because you felt you didn’t have anyone else. Especially us. We love you Brayden. Honestly, we do.”
“I know. And I love you guys, too.”
The bubbly air Cicely had upstairs was all gone. That didn’t mean he was feeling like a Debbie downer. It was quite the opposite. Cicely cared. They all cared about him. Which made him drop the egotistical dick-flexing for a minute to consider what was most important. He craved Julie because she was the unexpected, and he was with her because people hated it. Didn’t understand it. He did it to get back at Abby for not being with him. But Abby wasn’t Abby; Raven was Abby, and she was pissed off at him and the world, not jealous and turning to him like he’d hoped.
“We’re worried about you,” Cicely said, solemn.
He laughed then said, “Is this an intervention?”
“No. It’s just…you’re hanging out with Julie, and that other girl, the one with the black hair and heavy makeup, and honestly, she’s…she’s a bit scary.”
“Her name is Raven, and she’s high strung is all. Maybe she knows more about people than is good for her.”
“What does that mean?”
His chest tightened and he felt defensive. He couldn’t stand all the judgments people heaped on everyone else. Or how if they didn’t know something about someone, they all just assumed that person was…scary, or weird, or nerdy…whatever.
Not that he was an innocent in the judgment of others. Come to think of it, he thought, I’m kind of the same way, but maybe worse.
“A lot of the people here, they have different things about them, Cicely. Regenerative abilities, physical modifications, telekinetic tendencies—things like that. Raven has the ability to know people, like really know them, and so she’s not seeing you for who you are on the outside as much as she sees people as they are on the inside.”
“And that explains why she’s so creepy and quiet? Why she doesn’t engage anyone socially, except you?”
The hollow, tight feeling in his chest, it was beginning to feel like a ball of bad energy growing and climbing up inside him. He didn’t want to argue, because he didn’t want to lose Cicely as a friend, but with everything he and Abby/Raven have been through, he couldn’t
help but remain loyal to Raven.
“She sees beyond the beauty to all the ugliness and catty behavior. She sees your hatred, your jealousy, your fears and everything you’ve ever done that you’re embarrassed or proud of, or downright ashamed of. She sees everything, Cicely.”
“And you know this how?”
“I just do. Let’s change the subject please. She’s not here to defend herself, or explain herself, so maybe we could, I don’t know, talk about something else. Like what you guys are doing for dinner.”
“You want to have dinner with us?”
“Sure, but only if we do something different. Like maybe get out of town.”
“I like your thinking,” Cicely said, perking up. “Let’s head down into Roseville to Cattleman’s. It’s a steakhouse, but more important, it’s not going to have anyone from Astor Academy there.”
Feeling the weight that had been sitting squarely on his shoulders now lightening up just a bit, his mouth broke into a smile and he said, “Tell the others, then call me back with a time.”
“Oh and Brayden?”
“Yes?” he said, almost hanging up the phone.
“Don’t bring Julie.”
He swallowed hard, then said, “Don’t worry.”
Vaginal Poop
1
After the attack on the sidewalk near her home, Netty suffered indescribable pain for several days, but she didn’t go to the hospital because she was terrified of what the doctor would tell her. Even worse, she was terrified of how she was feeling. Not just physically, emotionally. She wanted her baby, but somewhere inside, she also despised it. Her head was turmoil. It was confusion. Worse, her insides burned with regret. She shouldn’t have slept with Brayden, shouldn’t have kept the baby. But she did. That made her vulnerable. She gave up her sensei to the boy-devil. Gave up a fellow student. And a friend of Abby’s no less. What did that say about her?
