Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell am I doing? I lean into my elbow, squeezing my eyes shut as the hot water pelts against my back, straining to clear my head as I finish myself off. I watch in disgust as the white fluid shoots out of me and swirls down the drain.
Fuck this, this isn’t me. I don’t pine for girls.
Hurriedly I finish with my shower and yank on my clean change of clothes. There’s only one solution to this fucked up situation…
Friday, 10:30 PM
An hour later I’m walking in the front door of a house party that’s already in full swing. Les was tied up with Leila tonight, so I’m here with Nick, a friend I met in my Rock and Roll Theory elective last year.
Within minutes of crossing the threshold I have a Jack and Coke in my hand, and my eyes are sweeping the female guests in search of someone who can put me out of my misery.
Let me clarify, I’m not typically a sexual predator like this. I don’t go out looking for sex – I let it find me. And up till now that’s worked out pretty well for me. Jerking off in my shower to a mental picture of Tawny Read, however, was a wakeup call of epic proportion. The ideal solution, obviously, would have consisted of somehow tracking down Tawny herself and fucking her until we both found our release. Since that can’t happen, though, this was the best thing I could come up with.
Now all I have to do is hang back until I can catch the eye of someone who seems willing.
Tawny – Friday, 10:45 PM
I had hoped maybe Kyle would call and ask me to do something this weekend, but so far he hasn’t. We’ve exchanged a few text messages this week, but our conversation has never deviated from superficial questions like “How is your week?” or “What’s your favorite class so far?”
When Beatrix asked Harumi and me to go to a party with her tonight I was halfway tempted to say no, just in case Kyle called and wanted to hang out. Convincing myself this line of thinking was not only stupid but naïve, however, I agreed to go along.
There aren’t all that many people here. I’m sitting on a couch in the basement nursing a White Russian, watching Harumi thoroughly vanquish some guy at pool while another guy tries desperately to engage me in conversation. Not wanting to be rude, I turn to face him and offer an “Mmhmm” or an “Oh really?” where called for. I don’t put much more into it than that, answering his questions with the fewest number of words possible. When he finally gives up on me and walks away I feel a pang of guilt and hope I didn’t come across as disrespectful. It wasn’t him necessarily – I just don’t do well in party situations, as I’ve explained.
Harumi finishes one game of pool and begins racking the balls to start another, more than ready to take on her next opponent. I take that as my cue to go up and get some fresh air – the air in the basement is dank and musty.
I’m relieved when I walk out the door in the kitchen to find the small patch of backyard deserted. I sit down on the concrete stoop and set my still half full cup between my feet, then pull out my phone to check the time. I wonder how much longer Beatrix and Harumi will want to stick around – I’m not sure how smart it would be for me to walk back alone. Then I scold myself for thinking that way. I should at least be trying to enjoy myself. Rhiannon would remind me this is a golden opportunity to meet new friends.
I swipe my finger across my phone’s display and tap on the icon for Facebook. I tell myself I’ll just kill a few minutes while I cool off a bit, then head back inside with renewed commitment to act more social than I feel.
I scroll down through my newsfeed, reading about other people’s weekend plans. Becca, my friend from Winnemucca who’s now at UCLA, is on her way to San Diego. Blake and Rhiannon are in Sacramento for a concert, and Leila Anderson is on a date with Les. I keep scrolling, stopping when my eyes land on Kyle’s name. His profile picture was taken at a lake – maybe Tahoe? He’s shirtless, suspended in midair above the deep blue water, having apparently just jumped from the wooden dock behind him. I inspect the picture closely, admiring the hard planes of his chest and the defined lines of his stomach muscles. His wall says he’s attending a party at 43 Claymore Street… Of course he is. I sigh to myself. I’m sure he’s having a great time, dancing and drinking and doing all the things you’re supposed to do at parties, while I sit here by myself, wishing I could disappear.
Who was I kidding, thinking we could be in any way compatible?
Kyle – Saturday, 8:30 AM
Getting shit-faced hadn’t been a part of my plan. I can already feel the dull ache seated deep in my skull before I open my eyes and the light streaming through the unfamiliar window makes it ten times worse. Fuck, I’m never doing shots again.
I prop myself up on my elbows and look down at my legs tangled in the sheets with someone else’s. My neck feels stiff as I turn my head to see the girl sleeping next to me – I’m pretty sure her name is Andrea. I’d never seen her before last night, but she was certainly more than willing to do anything I asked her to.
I tug on the sheet to cover her exposed breasts, but without waking she murmurs something unintelligible and pulls it back down, baring all. I use one hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, then, making as little movement as possible, swing my legs around the side of the bed and very slowly rise to my feet. My eyes dart around her messy bedroom, picking out my boxers, jeans and shirt from the heap of discarded clothing on the floor. Once I’m dressed I sit down in her desk chair and begin putting on my shoes. She stirs and I freeze, feeling like an asshole but not really in the mood to talk. Although, I’m pretty sure she was using me just as much as I was using her.
I’ve almost made it out the door, free and clear, when a voice behind me says, “Kyle?”
I turn back around to see Andrea sitting up, her blond hair a frizzy mess. The sheet is bunched around her waist, and she’s pushing out her tits – the girl has no shame. “Where are you going?” she asks, her voice taking on a slightly whiny timbre.
“I’m heading home,” I reply, whispering since I’m not sure whether she might have roommates who are still sleeping.
“Without saying goodbye?” she asks, sticking out her bottom lip in an artificial pout.
I turn back around and lean against the door frame, crossing my arms over my chest. “Bye, Andrea,” I say.
She shoots me a devilish smile, then scoots out of the bed, leaving the covers behind as she steals toward me. She does have a nice body, if you’re into big boobs and fake tans. Still, I’m careful to keep my eyes level with hers. I hold still while she clasps her fingers behind my neck and rises up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the lips. She teases my lower lip with her tongue, then draws back, a questioning look in her big hazel eyes.
“You sure you don’t wanna stay?” she asks coyly.
I sigh, feeling not the slightest stirring of a boner – my head hurts too much. All I want to do is go home and crawl into my own bed. I reach both hands behind my head and grip Andrea’s fingers in mine, gently removing them from my neck. “It was fun,” I tell her softly. Then I give her a final parting kiss on the cheek and pull back altogether. She nods in understanding and flutters her French manicured fingers at me with a yawn.
“Bye, Kyle. Let me know if you wanna do it again sometime.” She winks, and I nod once before turning to leave, wishing our meaningless encounter had done more to fill the hole inside of me.
Chapter 8 – Getting Educated
Saturday, August 27
Tawny – 2:00 PM
I’m sitting on my bed finishing my math homework while eating a dining hall chicken sandwich when Harumi walks in, her ever-present headphones perched atop her cap of glossy black hair. She’s singing softly with her music as she swings her book bag up onto her bed and kicks off her shoes. When she lowers the headphones around her neck, I can hear the faint, tinny melody of a song through the small speakers.
“What are you up to this afternoon?” she asks as she strolls over to sit across from me on Beatrix’s empty bed.
“J
ust finishing homework,” I reply.
Harumi nods, holding my gaze with her penetrating stare. Sometimes when she looks at me I’m afraid she’s able to divine every secret I’ve ever kept. She takes a deep breath and settles back against the multitude of throw pillows on Beatrix’s bed. “Do you have many friends here from your high school?” she asks.
I shrug. “A few acquaintances I guess. All my close friends went to other schools. Why?”
“You just seem sort of…lonely.” I’m grateful her tone isn’t judgmental – she’s just being observant.
I sigh. “I worked a year before coming here. Since everyone else left for college while I stayed at home, I was pretty much a loner for the past twelve months. I guess I just haven’t gotten back in the swing of making new friends.”
Harumi nods. “You’re not alone there.” She sits up then and leans forward, bracing her elbows against her knees. “What about that guy Kyle?”
I look at her, assessing the situation. I’m not obligated to tell her anything, but a part of me wants to. It’s sort of like being in therapy again.
I push my math book out of my lap and shove it aside with my half eaten sandwich. I draw my knees up close to my chest and take in a cleansing breath before responding. “Kyle was the first boy I ever liked – sixth grade. I liked him all the way through high school, but he never paid much attention to me. I was so infatuated with him – I lived for those moments when he would notice me, like when he told me he liked my drawing best in art class, or at graduation when he asked if he could have his picture taken with me. I know I must sound so pathetic, but that’s the way it was with me. We weren’t in contact at all last year when he was here, but then he came into the pizza place where I worked this summer. He found out I was starting here this fall and asked for my phone number so we could ‘hang out.’”
I finish telling her about the night of Jared Mink’s party, including what Kyle said to me before going inside that night. Then I tell her about bumping into him again at the mixer and going over to his house last weekend. When I’m done talking I wait quietly for Harumi to speak. She seems introspective, as if she’s mentally framing the right words to say.
“So, you like him,” she says, working it through in her mind as her words come out measured and deliberate. “And I’d almost be willing to bet he likes you, too—“
She stops when she sees me shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so,” I tell her. “Kyle is – well, he’s never really had a girlfriend. I’m pretty sure he’s had lots of…experience with women, but he doesn’t settle down. I think all he’s looking for is a good time.”
“Okay…” says Harumi thoughtfully as she processes this latest bit of information. “You mean like sex?”
She says it so casually. I nod.
“So why don’t you just have sex with him?” she asks, as if this solution should have been apparent all along.
I open my mouth to speak, but she continues before any words come out. “I mean, so maybe you don’t get the works with him – the cards, the flowers, the commitment. And maybe that stuff is important to you. But let’s face it – you’re in college, and you’re still really young. Who says you need to be looking for long term relationship material? Maybe you could concentrate on just having fun, too. You said yourself, Kyle seems like he’d be willing, right? And I’ve seen the man – he’s gorgeous. I mean, you could do a lot worse, you know? As long as you both have clear expectations going in, and you understand he can have sex with other girls, just like you’re welcome to have sex with other guys, then it actually seems like a pretty perfect arrangement.”
A lot about what she’s saying rings true, even if it goes against everything I’ve been brought up to believe. I never intended on saving myself for marriage, but I never saw myself as someone who could be content with a random hookup either. I bob my head along as she speaks, wanting more than anything to go along with what she’s saying. Once she finishes, she sits back with her hands clasped over her stomach, awaiting my response.
I draw a strand of my hair through my lips, an old habit that’s hard to break. “There’s just one other complicating factor,” I say. She lifts an eyebrow, looking as if nothing could surprise her. I clear my throat and rub my chin, unsure if there’s some graceful way of phrasing my next statement. Deciding that, nope, there doesn’t seem to be, I just take a deep breath and blurt out, “I’m a virgin.”
Harumi’s standard poker face doesn’t change one bit. After a moment she steeples her fingers beneath her chin and says, “And why is that a complicating factor?”
Her question catches me off-guard. “I… I don’t know. It just seems like a big deal…”
She sighs. “Tawny. It’s only a big deal if you let it be a big deal. It’s sex, not neurosurgery. There has to be a first time for everything. If it wasn’t for our language assigning a special label to those who haven’t had sex, I guarantee it would seem much less significant.”
I eye her apprehensively. She seems to pick up on the fact I’m not completely sold on the idea. “Look. Some people’s virginity is very sacred to them. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m not trying to sway you one way or the other – I’m just saying you have to think about whether it’s a big deal to you. Not to your parents, not to your friends, and not to Kyle. You’re the one who matters here.”
I have to admit she makes a lot of sense. And truly there’s some small part of me jumping up and down at the prospect of ignoring all the conventions modeled for me during my upbringing. Plus, sex with Kyle would be nothing if not exciting.
I watch Harumi as the seed she’s planted takes root in my mind. After a moment a smile spreads slowly over her face, and she speaks again. “Now – while it’s true this is one hundred percent your decision, if you want my unsolicited opinion, it seems to me that Kyle would be the perfect person to instruct you in the ways of physical love.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me playfully – Harumi has very expressive eyebrows, I’ve noticed.
I can’t help it – I burst out giggling. I have to bury my face in a pillow to muffle my laughter. Imagine – Kyle Freeman as my very own sex tutor.
4:00 PM
Two hours later, Harumi is sitting beside me with her computer open on her lap, and I’m in hysterics – my abs are getting sore from laughing so hard. Then the door opens and Beatrix walks in.
With a boy.
So long, giggles.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, blinking her confusion as she moves into the room. Her friend, a not-unattractive Hispanic guy, glances between us as if he’s waiting to be let in on the joke.
“Ever heard of Nips Ahoy, B?” asks Harumi.
“Is that a sex position?” says Beatrix. Her eyes narrow with suspicion.
“So you’ve heard of it,” says Harumi.
Beatrix shrugs. “Not exactly. It just sounds like something straight out of Cosmo. What is it?”
Harumi reads the description while Beatrix drops her bag and joins us on my bed. I watch, mortified, as her friend drops into a desk chair. For all the excitement written on his face, you’d think Harumi was reading a paragraph from a quantum physics book.
“Sounds difficult,” says Beatrix as she peers over Harumi’s shoulder at the graphic.
“Sounds fucking impossible,” chimes in the mystery man.
“Oh yeah, guys, this is my friend Danny,” says Beatrix, as if she’s just remembered he’s here. “Danny, this is Harumi, and that’s Tawny.”
He gives us each a nod. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” says Harumi. She glances back at her computer screen. “What about Rock-a-Bye-Booty?”
I’m sorry, but am I dreaming right now? There’s a boy sitting RIGHT THERE, and we’re just going to keep talking about SEX POSITIONS?! If I could climb inside my bed right now, I wouldn’t think twice about it.
Beatrix seems to pick up on my discomfort. “Don’t worry about him, Tawny. He’s cool.” Looking at Danny: “Right,
Danny?”
“Sure,” he replies. “It’s no big.”
“What are we doing this for anyway?” asks Beatrix.
“Tawny’s getting educated,” says Harumi, “so she can charm that sexpot we met last week.”
“Ooo, he was cute,” says Beatrix.
I’m not sure it’s possible for any more blood to rise to the surface of my cheeks without my head exploding. I absolutely cannot look at Danny.
We spend the next hour combing through every off-the-wall piece of advice the website has to offer. After deciding Danny isn’t such a threat after all, I gradually begin to loosen up and join everyone else in their sidesplitting laughter.
Beatrix: “Try mixing a few of your favorite flavors, like peanut butter and chocolate, and licking them off his body.”
Harumi: Ugh, no thanks. I don’t do food sex.
Me: Why not?
Harumi: Too messy.
Danny: It’s also a good way to end up with type 2 diabetes.
Beatrix: “Dip your breasts in edible body paint and use them to paint his entire body – then lick it off.”
Harumi: How large would this bucket of “edible body paint” need to be in order to dip your breasts in it? Do they sell it by the gallon?
Me: Besides which, how does one paint with her breasts? Wouldn’t they have to be, like, bizarrely dexterous for that?
Harumi: “If you run out of lube, mix a tablespoon of saliva with a tablespoon of water to stretch the spit.”
Beatrix: Exactly one tablespoon?
Danny: Does it say whether you’re supposed to whisk it together in a mixing bowl or something?
Beatrix: “Studies have found that the smell of peppermint can be sexually arousing. Dabbing some peppermint oil between your breasts may stimulate some nookie.”
Forever With You (Silver State Series) Page 6
