I didn’t have much to offer High School Musical, Seth. I think he and I both knew I had nothing to offer him. There was only one reason he chose to pledge a fraternity—to be around guys 24/7. However, his fraternity brothers weren’t quite yet “in the know.” I didn’t have a book for him. I did tell him that he might like Double Time by Olivia Cunning, and gave him a wink. Come to think of it, I could use a re-read of that book myself.
Getting back into the car, I had an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. My weight-loss euphoria dissipated momentarily and turned to longing. Without thinking or second-guessing myself, I grabbed my phone and tapped out a text message to Matt: “I miss you.”
I waited. It didn’t take long until my phone dinged. I looked down and read the word: “Finally.” Smiling, I started the car, and drove back to hotel, back to Christine, back to the adventure that was changing my life.
“Get up!” I screamed, entering the hotel room, tossing an egg and spinach wrap from Subway to her. “Eat this, but first, hop on this.” I put the scale down on the floor next to her bed. “Well, pee first, and take your pj bottoms off.”
“I knew you wanted me,” Christine said, sitting up. “I’m not getting on that thing… but I will eat this.”
Grabbing the wrap out of her hand, I said, “Not until you step on this.”
She shook her head, frowning. “Not gonna happen.”
“Oh yes it is. You’ve been making me do crap this whole time. Now, you’re going to do what I want. Trust me, just do it—for me—please?” I batted my eyes at her and puffed out my bottom lip.
“Fine,” she huffed, kicking off the blankets. “But I’m taking it in the bathroom.”
She stormed off to the bathroom, and I read my text message again. I loved that Matt just wrote “finally” and nothing else. It’s exactly what I needed and wanted to see. I didn’t want giant texts, long, drawn-out discussions. I just wanted him to know that I missed him. I didn’t know anything else and couldn’t promise anything else. I just missed Matt. Missed us.
Seconds after I heard the toilet flush, my ears were rewarded with what I’d hoped for, “Holy shit!” The door burst open, and Christine’s elated face told me exactly what I needed to know.
“I know, right! How much?” I asked, jumping up and down.
“You tell me first,” she squealed.
“I bought the scale—you go first!”
Rolling her eyes, “Fine. I’m down eighteen pounds.”
At that moment, I felt my skin changing color as I transformed into an evil, green wench of envy. “Eighteen? Wow… that’s… that’s great,” I said, chewing jaded balls of jealousy in my envy-soaked mouth.
“What about you?” she asked, smiling and clearly excited for both of us.
“Ummm…”
Okay, so I really thought about lying and saying nineteen pounds, because I’m over-the-top competitive. Matt always complained that I turned everything into a competition even when there wasn’t anything to compete over. If I was going to start making changes in my life, I guessed this would be one of those things I could improve upon.
Taking a deep breath, I admitted, “Down 16.6.” Okay, so originally, I said that it was seventeen pounds. I rounded up, so sue me. “But hey, it’s still sixteen less than I started at, right?”
“Damn straight it is! We did it! We’re really doing this. We rock,” Christine fist-pumped the air, happily and confidently.
“Yeah, but you lost more than I did,” I stated, trying to hide my jealousy.
“A freaking pound—big deal,” she said, grabbing her Subway wrap off the bed.
“A pound is a lot, and plus, it was a little over a pound. That can add up,” I argued. “I just don’t get it. I’ve done everything you’ve done, eaten nearly the same things you’ve eaten. How could you have lost more? It’s not really fair.”
“Ang, it’s no big deal; it’s essentially the same amount,” Chris explained.
“Says the girl who lost more than I did,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
“Really? Are you kidding me right now? It is one pound—one freaking pound.”
“I know. Trust me, I know. You lost one freaking pound more than I did,” I snarled, wishing I could just let this go.
“Listen to me, we’re both doing wonderfully. Get excited! And remember, you exercise. You teach water aerobics back home. You go and do all kinds of crap with those boys of yours,” Christine said, taking a bite of her wrap. “My God, this is so good… Anyway, what do I do? I sit around and eat and write all day,” Christine tried to argue. “My body has probably been in shock that a cookie hasn’t passed through it in so long, and it most likely went into panic mode, because it actually had to exert itself. I’m probably going to lose faster than you. My body isn’t used to this crap.”
“I’m going to lose faster than you,” I mimicked like a child.
“You’ve lost your mind—you realize that, don’t you?”
“Where are we going?” Christine asked for the tenth time.
“Not telling,” I quipped.
“Will you at least tell me why I had to dress like this and wear all this crazy-ass makeup?” she questioned for about the one-hundredth time.
Christine looked incredible—but she wouldn’t look at herself in the mirror. Stubborn bitch. Apparently, I have an eye for fashion and sexy clothes when I’m X-ed out and as high as a kite. The clothes we bought on our shopping “trip,” trip being the operative word, were borderline scandalous. Scratch that, way-over-the-border-and-into-the-next-country scandalous. Hell, these clothes might need a passport to get back into the country—a passport and a green card.
For overweight people, anyway.
“Skinny” bitches wore clothes like this daily.
I convinced her to wear dark skinny jeans, strappy high heels, and a sparkly champagne-colored tank top. I even hid her glasses four different times to get her to go out without them, but she kept bumping into shit and tripped over the corner of the bed. I had to relent and give them back to her before she fractured her hip or gouged out an eye.
My little black dress was a little more form-fitting than I was used to. Chris claimed it accentuated my curves. That threw me through a loop. I thought I was supposed to be all about hiding my curves and hoping nobody in a ten-mile radius saw them. After I put on what most people would consider “flats,” but were much higher than I ever wear, I had to admit, I liked the way I looked. Wow, I hadn’t thought that about myself in a very long time. I wanted to take a picture and send it to Matt, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to give him mixed messages or send the wrong signals.
“Well to answer your question, you’re dressed like that, because you look freaking hot. That extra pound really made a difference,” I stated, wishing I could just let it go.
“Oh my God, you’re driving me crazy. Can you just stop for God’s sake?” Christine groaned, pounding her head on the headrest.
“Stop what? Losing weight, so you can continue to lose way more than me, and I can just be your designated fat friend?” Even as I was saying it, I knew I was nuts. I did the same thing with Matt. Every time I felt threatened or insecure, I just spun it out of control. I was surprised I wasn’t saying it with a Ho-Ho in each hand and Oreos in my mouth. That was more how I operated.
“Pull over! Stop right there,” Christine screamed. “I need something in there.”
“What do you need?” I asked, looking at the convenience store. “I asked you if you needed anything this morning when I went to Wal*Mart, and you said, ‘No.’ What do you need?”
“Can you just please pull over?”
Turning into the parking lot, I shot her a look, letting her know that she was being bitchy. And I’d know, because I’d been a raging bitch since Chris stepped foot on that scale exactly eight hours ago.
As I waited in the parking lot, I decided to sign on to Facebook and scroll through Matt’s page. I loved seeing all of his posts about the boys and look
ing at all the fun things they were doing. God, he was such an incredible father. They were always doing something new—not just sitting in his dinky apartment watching Sportscenter, like I predicted they’d do all day.
Looking up, I saw Christine emerge from the store. My eyes widened, and I put the window down. “What do you think you’re going to do with those?” I asked.
“Shutting your ass up,” she stated, matter-of-factly.
Taking a handful of peanut M&Ms, Christine stuffed them all into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, fluttering in ecstasy. I heard an unmistakable moan of pure euphoric pleasure escape from deep within her throat. After she swallowed, she said, “There goes that pound. We’re even now.”
“You did not have to do—”
“Oh my God, I so did. I couldn’t listen to you yapping about that damn pound for another second. You’re fricken nuts, ya know that?”
“Yeah, I kind of do,” I admitted, dropping my head. “But—”
“But what?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“You just got to have M&Ms, and I didn’t,” I whined.
“Freaking nuts—absolutely freaking nuts!”
“Stop rubbing it in. I saw that they were the peanut kind,” I complained.
“Not the damn M&Ms… you… you are freaking nuts,” she cried, sighing in exasperation. “Angelisa, I want you to see how wonderful and worthy you are. I ate the M&Ms to prove to you that nobody—not one person—is better than you. You can do this. You are doing this!”
Smiling, I nodded, my eyes welling with tears. “That’s like the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”
“Hey chick, that’s what friends are for. We’re in this together, aren’t we?” she said, getting into the car.
“Hell yeah we are! We’re taking this trip and showing forty that it can suck it!” I screamed, turning up the radio.
“No chance! I am not going in there,” Christine said, refusing to get out the car.
“Trust me, you’re going to love Nick, Seth, and Jason,” I whined. “When was the last time you went to a frat party anyway?”
“Uhhh, never! Greek life wasn’t exactly my thing,” Christine said, shaking her head.
“Well it was my thing, and I was damn good at it,” I bragged. “Come on, it’s going to be fun.”
“Listen, I never got into the whole Tappa-Kegga-Cock or the Phi-Anus-a-lon thing,” Christine stated. “You go on. I’ll go find a book store or a Starbucks and hang while you take a trip down memory lane.”
“First of all, Greek world 101, a girl never—repeat—never goes to a fraternity party alone. It’s like a law. A girl needs a sidekick,” I explained, pulling her by the arm.
Four guys, four extremely good-looking and incredibly built fraternity guys, walked by the car, each curling a keg as their biceps bulged and beckoned to onlookers. “Hey girls, getting turnt with us tonight?”
“Hell yeah, we are,” I said, grabbing my phone and clacking away at the keyboard.
“What’re you doing?” Christine asked, watching them walk away.
“Urban dictionary. Looking up ‘turnt.’ I agreed to do it, gotta know what it is,” I admitted.
Sighing and walking toward the fraternity house, she said, “For someone who thinks she’s so hip and ‘with it,’ you don’t know crap. ‘Turnt’ just means drunk, you asshole.”
“Let’s get turnt then, bitches!”
“Dude, do you really think Abby would like that?” Jason asked, leaning closer to Christine.
“First of all, I’m a woman, not a ‘dude.’ Secondly, she’s gonna love it. I mean, really love it. She’ll probably do it back to you,” Christine promised. “And you’ll love it too.”
“Jesus, you chicks rock. I always knew I’d like to tap an old bitch,” Nick slurred, shaking his head.
“I’m sitting on your lap,” Hannah stated, slapping him upside the head.
“I love it when you get rough,” he said, biting into her shoulder.
“Then take me somewhere where I can show you how rough I like it,” she groaned, taking a handful of his hair and ripping his head back. Biting his lip, she added, “And don’t ever look at another bitch in front of me again—got it?”
Alright then, maybe I was wrong about Hannah. She didn’t want a nice guy to romance her; she wanted a little BDSM. Pegged that one wrong. I just wasn’t sure at this point who was the Dom and who was the Sub in their little sordid affair.
“Who’s ready for keg stands,” Drake, the obvious party-leader of their fraternity, screamed.
“I am!” Chris yelled, jumping up. For someone who didn’t want to come tonight, she was really loosening up. Hell, she couldn’t get any looser if she tried.
“Zolendz, easy girl, I think you’ve probably had enough,” I called after her, hoping that she didn’t spew when they turned her upside down.
“I’ve had enough when Drake says I’ve had enough,” she flirted, smacking his ass.
Growling, Drake yelled, “Watch out people, I’m caging me a cougar tonight.”
“What about you, darlin’, ya wanna see what you can swallow?” a voice came from behind me, close and in my ear. Turning around slowly, I met the eyes of the most rough-looking fraternity guy I’d ever seen. No pastels. No upturned collar. Nothing from Polo, Nautica, or even Abercrombie. This guy was straight out of a country video—minus the Stetson.
“Dude, if you tell me you’ve got cupcakes or ice cream in your room, then I’m game. Other than that, I’m just going to watch my friend puke on your buddy over there,” I joked, flashing a smile and turning away from him. I had to force myself to not pat him on the head like a little puppy. I’d wanted to come here, but damn, I’d forgotten how young college-aged boys really were. Children.
“I’m not playing, sweetheart. I’m sick of these drunk-ass sorority girls. I wanna party with a woman—a real woman,” he said, slinging an arm over my shoulder.
I erupted.
Exploded.
Guffawed.
Right in the poor guy’s face.
“Holy shit! That cannot, canNOT, work. Seriously, you have got to try some other ammo. Ain’t no way that works—like ever,” I laughed, tears filling my eyes. “Dude, shit, why do I keep saying, ‘dude?’ You kids are rubbing off on me,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway honey, there is nothing that a woman hates worse than being fed a big old block of cheese, and that, my dear, was as cheesy as it gets.”
Dropping his head, he turned to leave—defeated and deflated.
“Wait… wait… wait,” I yelled, grabbing his arm. “Alright Cowboy, look around, pick a girl… any of them… that isn’t with another guy.”
Cowboy scanned the room and pointed to a little dark-haired girl who was watching her friend grind on some college kid. She was staring at them like she wished she were doing the same thing. She was obviously here to party.
“Oh good choice,” I complimented. “Now here’s what I want you to do. Go over there and tell her that Professor Fitzgerald put you to sleep in lecture on Thursday. Could you please borrow her notes?”
“I don’t have a Profess—”
“I know that! Just do it,” I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “Then, after she says that she isn’t in that class or that she thinks you might have gotten the wrong girl. You need say something like, ‘I’m sorry. I thought you sat a few rows ahead of me.’ Then make some small-talk.”
“Like what? What kind of small-talk? What should I say?” Cowboy asked, staring at me like I was the guru of girl-tang.
“Anything,” I explained. “Ask her what her major is. Where she lives—stuff like that.”
“Alright, I can do that,” he stated, nodding his head.
When he started to walk away, I stopped him, “Hold on there Cowboy, slow down, here’s the key: Talk to her for only like five minutes, then tell her you have to be honest with her… that’s when you admit that you knew she wasn’t in your class. Even admit
that you don’t have a Professor Fitzgerald either.”
He looked at me wide-eyed and confused. “Why would I say that? She’ll know I was lying then.”
“That’s when you go in for the kill,” I strategized. “Drop your head, look at her under your eyelashes, grin and then nail her with, ‘I just wanted a reason to come over here and talk to you.’ Then, you’re in like Maverick. ‘Take her to bed or lose her forever.’ I promise.”
“Seriously? You think that’ll work?”
“Trust me, you’ll be pulling out a Trojan by midnight,” I guaranteed.
“I’ll give it a shot,” he shrugged. “But wait! One question; who’s ‘Maverick’?”
Groaning, I shook my head and said, “Oh for God’s sake! Just go!”
No sooner had Cowboy sauntered away, I heard “Cougar! Cougar! Cougar!” Turning my head, my jaw dropped, and I bolted over to the upside down Christine, chugging warm Natural Light while two guys held her legs.
Once Christine gave them the signal, they righted her. Immediately, Drake embraced her, crushing his mouth against hers. Christine met his lips with her own voracious, amorous hunger. Finally, they came up for air and smiled widely. Wobbling, she regained her stance and made her way over to me, smiling triumphantly, as they were still screaming, “Cougar! Cougar! Cougar!”
“Well look at you!” I marveled. “Aren’t you quite the Sig-My-Muff fraternity groupie?”
“Get me to the bathroom. I peed my fricken pants. Ever since I had kids, I piss myself left and right,” she whispered frantically.
#TripleX Page 15
