by Mimi Strong
With a groan, I stop.
My keys. My bag. Everything’s back at the office.
I turn around to find the van still there, at the sidewalk.
Nick rolls down the window and holds out my bag.
“Looking for this?”
I jog back and take the bag.
He gives me a wave goodbye, and this time he drives away.
I stare after the back of the van as it disappears down the street.
Maybe Nick really is a good guy, and I can trust him. This gives me a hopeful feeling, like I’m not so alone. For a moment, the wide open space around me doesn’t feel too scary and big.
I let myself into the house and sit down in my bedroom with my laptop.
For the next few hours, I look at the usual websites. Nothing seems interesting. The sites I used to follow seem stupid now.
What has changed? I used to love all these music and fashion blogs. Now I can’t even be interested to catch up on what I’ve missed since I moved.
Compared to my real life, these blogs are so tame. Why would I read about hot guys I’ll never meet when I’ve got a genuine hot guy in my life right now?
I close the laptop and run my finger over my lips, remembering.
The way Dylan talked me into closing my eyes for three minutes seems hilarious now. I giggle to myself remembering. Why didn’t I poke holes in his logic? He said I had to pay a price for seeing his rented apartment. But he was the one who wanted to show me the place. I never asked.
That guy. I laugh again, shaking my head.
That guy had me wrapped around his finger today.
Isn’t it supposed to be the girl who charms the guy? Shouldn’t I be keeping him on his toes? If only I knew how, I totally would.
When he pulled me down onto his lap, all that body contact was so sudden and intense. I couldn’t believe how good it felt.
And then… when he pushed me onto my back on the couch…
My whole body gets flushed now. My skin is hot all over. He put his hand between my legs. Everything happened so fast. We were playing around, and having fun.
When he slipped his hand down into my panties, I could hardly breathe. And the way his fingers felt…
I don’t understand my own body. I’ve put my fingers there, to see what the fuss is about, and I’ve never felt anything like that. It was overwhelming. The pleasure completely took over my body. I found myself moving in ways I never imagined.
But then something happened and broke the spell.
Dylan still had complete control over my body, but he pulled away. And then he said the most awful things. He talked about getting it over with. Like taking me was some chore he didn’t want to do.
I must have done something wrong. I could have sworn he liked me up until that point.
The only thing I can imagine is that he doesn’t trust me. He must think I was lying to him. He probably didn’t believe me that I’m a virgin.
Damn it.
Why did I have to get that extreme waxing job done before I came out to LA? He’s probably right. Most virgins don’t get their whole area waxed, I bet. How could I be so dense?
I slap myself on my forehead.
I’m still being dense.
Here I am, sitting in my bedroom, making excuses for Dylan Wolf. I’m actually twisting things around in my head, so this afternoon was my fault. Oh, Jess, you silly girl, how old are you?
I’m not some dumb teenager. I’m twenty-two, and I have a college degree. Sure, my degree is just from a community college, but I was at the top of my class.
I know I’m smart. Now I just have to prove it to myself by being smart about Dylan.
Today, he acted like an asshole. If a guy acts that way, it’s because he is that way. Dylan Wolf might be gorgeous, and a great singer with an incredible body, but he’s an asshole.
If I’m going to lose my virginity to someone, it’s not going to be to someone who acts like such an asshole.
When I get to work tomorrow, I’m going to tell them the deal is off.
I’m not their Eye Candy or whatever they want to call it.
I’m not their hooker.
Chapter 6
On Thursday morning, I stare at my new pink clothes in the closet. My stomach flips around with nervousness.
I felt so sure of myself last night, but this morning I don’t know.
When I get to work and tell my bosses I won’t be their whore, what will happen? Things can’t possibly get worse than working in the archives, unless they fire me. That would be worse.
Then again, if they fire me, I’ll cash in my plane ticket. I’ll go home and pick up my old life. My friends will make fun of me, but I deserve it. I was delusional to think I had a career in LA.
I take the pink clothes and shoes and push them to the back of the closet. Just looking at that stuff makes me feel sick. I almost agreed to being their whore.
And I almost let Dylan Wolf have me. He was right on top of me, and I could feel how much he wanted me. But I couldn’t go through with having sex with him, because…
Because I was scared.
I can tell myself it was about my pride, but that’s not the whole picture.
The truth is, I was scared. I wanted to feel his skin on mine, his lips gasping for breath against mine. But I couldn’t take a chance, because I was scared.
Just like I’m scared right now, running out the door to catch the bus. It’s not about anything specific, like a mugging. It’s bigger than that.
My whole future is a blank book when I’m here in LA.
Anything can happen.
My life isn’t mapped out for me here like it is back home.
Those blank pages scare me.
I try to think happy, boring thoughts on the way to work. I look around at the clothes that people on the bus are wearing. Some girls my age are talking about nail polish.
I keep sneaking looks over at the group of girls across the aisle from me. There are three girls, and two of them keep teasing the one. First, it’s just about nail polish. She likes to wear green. Then it turns to teasing her about being a virgin.
I shouldn’t stare, but I do. Why is she a virgin? She’s so pretty, with golden blonde hair. She could have any guy she wanted. She could get a guy like Dylan Wolf.
As soon as I think about him, I feel a stabbing pain in my guts.
The jealousy is so bad. I clench my fists and remind myself it’s just my imagination. The pretty blonde girl isn’t trying to sleep with Dylan. My jealousy creeps all through my body, taking over. The feeling possesses me like a demon.
I can’t even look at the pretty blonde without wanting to choke her.
I’m so distracted, I almost miss my stop.
I run off the bus and into the building.
The security guards greet me with a smile today. I fumble with my keycard and go through the metal detector. Once I’m through, they don’t even look at me, because they’re distracted.
All of the security guys have their mouths open, and they’re practically drooling over the girls who walked in behind me. It’s the three girls from the bus. I linger by the elevator, listening in. They’re here for a backup singer audition.
My guts twist with insane jealousy again. They’re probably here for something completely unrelated to Dylan. I’m just making myself nuts, and I know it.
But if I see him talking to the blonde, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I get in the elevator and push the button.
A minute later, the elevator doors open. The smell of dust hits my nose.
Am I in Hell? Nope, just the basement.
I step through the doors and walk over to the two desks covered in cardboard boxes and dusty old junk.
“Good morning,” Nick says. He doesn’t even look up at me, much less acknowledge what happened yesterday.
“Good morning to you,” I say as I take my seat.
For the next few hours, we don’t say anything.
&
nbsp; We both just work. I take hard copy photos from dusty boxes and scan them into digital files.
I keep glancing at the phone on his desk.
I don’t know about Nick, but I’m on pins and needles waiting for the phone to ring.
We go for lunch, where Nick treats me to a hot lunch in the cafeteria.
Then we come back down to the archives and work some more.
The phone doesn’t ring. Nobody has contacted me about what happened yesterday. I ask Nick if I should go up and report to Stephanie, but he says it doesn’t work that way. Part of my job as Eye Candy is being undercover, he says.
Crap. Working in the archives is crap.
Five o’clock comes, and we finally get up to leave.
I never want to see this room again.
I go home, eat, sleep, get up, take the bus, and I’m back here again Friday morning. Did I ever leave?
Crap. Another day of putting disks in and out of an old disk drive.
I fantasize about smashing my fingers between the metal shelves, just so I can take sick leave.
“Plans for the weekend?” Nick asks.
It’s four o’clock on Friday afternoon. I’ve been watching the clock on my computer. I swear the numbers go backward when I look away.
“Groceries. Laundry. Applying for other jobs.” I put my hand over my mouth, pretending that last part was an accident. “Oh, was that out loud?”
“Maybe you’ll have some fun tonight,” he says. His voice seems to be hinting at more than he’s saying.
“Yeah, right. I’ll have fun staying home in my pajamas.”
“Either way, I think you’ll have fun. In fact, staying home in your pajamas is a great idea. Keep yourself available. Don’t go out. If you’re at home, that makes you easy to find.”
“You are so weird, Nick. Have you been spying on people with your spycams? What do you know?”
“I have eyes and ears. Have fun tonight.”
I snort and make a pouty face. “Everyone around here is so mysterious. Especially you.”
“Maybe we have good reasons. A million good reasons.”
“What the hell?”
He runs his fingertips along his lips like he’s zipping them up. He twists his hand like he’s locking them with a key. And now he’s tossing the key away.
Great.
Something’s going on.
It could be something good, or it could be something horrible.
Judging by the way my life has been going, I’m sure it won’t be good. Maybe I’ll get murdered. That would be great, because I won’t have to return to the basement archives on Monday.
Chapter 7
Amanda stands in the doorway of my bedroom.
“I like what you’ve done to the place,” she says.
It’s Friday night, and I’m hanging out in my rented bedroom until she leaves. We both look around at the bare walls, the color of chocolate milk. She’s being sarcastic, because I haven’t put up a single decoration.
“Amanda, you saw the tiny suitcase I came here with.”
“Why didn’t you bring more stuff?” She comes into my room without being invited and picks up the teddy bear from my bed. “Who’s this?”
“My teddy bear doesn’t have a name.”
“But obviously this bear is important, or you wouldn’t have brought it in your tiny luggage.”
She sits on the edge of my bed, waiting for an answer.
“It’s Friday night,” I say to her. “If you’re not working at the bar tonight, shouldn’t you be out having a good time? What’s that guy Caleb up to? Is he a friend with benefits? What’s the deal?”
“Let’s get drunk,” she says.
“I’m allergic to alcohol.”
“Shut up you bitch, you are not.”
I don’t like her calling me bitch, even if it’s a joke, but I’ll let this one go. I close my old laptop so she can’t see what’s on the screen. Raising my arms over my head, I stretch my back.
“Seriously,” she says. “Are you really allergic to drinking? I have a friend who says she’s allergic, but she just gets drunk faster. She’s a cheap date.” Amanda laughs. “Lucky bitch.”
“If I drink, my face gets really flushed, and I get dizzy.”
Amanda howls with laughter. She squeezes my teddy in her arms. I can smell the sweet-scented body spray she douses herself in. She’s probably getting her tramp stench all over my teddy bear.
“That’s called being drunk!” she yells at me. “You’re not allergic, dummy. Come on. Let’s do a booze run. We’ll get some of that coconut shit teenagers drink.”
I twirl around on the swivel chair next to the desk. One of the reasons I picked this shared house over an apartment was because it came furnished. Nan got me Amanda’s email address from her father, and we emailed a few times. When I saw a photo of the bedroom she and our other roommate were renting out, I got a good feeling. I could see myself sitting at this old wooden desk, sitting on the old-fashioned chair.
What I didn’t imagine was Amanda stinking up my room and acting like some weird big sister.
Even more surprising, I don’t actually hate this. Amanda isn’t my favorite person, but she’s not the worst.
Part of me wants to go on a booze run with her and drink “coconut shit.” What does that even mean? Is she talking about Malibu Rum? I did drink that a few times when I was a teenager, usually on school trips.
Amanda holds out the teddy bear and talks to it. “What’s your name? Mr. Teddy, you say? Does Jess do bad things to you? Does she make you touch her no-no areas?”
I rip the bear out of her hands.
“For fuck’s sake, Amanda.”
She laughs hysterically.
“Fine. Be that way. Let’s play a game. You tell me the story about the teddy bear, and I’ll tell you a secret about Caleb.”
I set the teddy bear on the desk.
When she finds out the boring truth, she’ll be disappointed, but I tell her anyway.
“My best friend gave me the bear as a going-away present. That’s the whole story. I’ve barely even had it for a week.”
“Who’s your best friend?”
“Just a person.”
“Is this person a boy?”
“Yeah.”
She groans and flops back on my bed. She spreads her arms out wide. The sweet smell of her body spray is filling the whole room now.
“Jess, you gotta move on. I’ll set you up with someone. You can’t hide away in your bedroom every night.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Yes, you are. And the last couple days, you look like you’re a prisoner on death row. You’re depressing the shit out of me. Wake up and look at all the hot guys in this city. If you like musicians so much, go to some concerts.”
“I don’t like musicians. I like music. Big difference.”
She snorts and sits up on the bed.
“What about that guy? Dylan Wolf? I saw two people I know posting links to that Blue Shoes song.” She holds up two fingers. “Two different people! He’s going to be fucking rich. You should get on that.”
“He’s too old for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not that old.”
“Then he’s too… worldly. Too mature.”
I pick up the teddy bear and hug it to my chest. I’ve talked to Nick a bunch of times about what happened at Dylan’s place. I still don’t understand how I feel. Amanda is not someone I want to bare my soul to, but I need a girl’s perspective.
“Amanda, I haven’t told you yet, but I saw him again. The day after we ran into him busking.”
“And?” Her blue eyes widen with interest. The way the setting sun’s light is coming in the room, her eyes are brilliant. I stare at the little wedge of her iris that’s a bit green. Maybe if I bare my soul to her, I can finally ask about her eye.
“He took me to this cool apartment that he’s renting. I thought things were going well. We kissed a bit. And he tou
ched me. Down there.”
Amanda’s mouth opens. She looks like she’s going to make fun of me for saying “down there,” but she doesn’t.
I keep going, telling the story. I feel weird, like I’m getting turned on again just remembering. “And then suddenly he was like, turn over and let’s do this. Let’s get it over with. And I was like, what? I mean… sure, I’m a virgin. I’m not an expert on sex, but I don’t think that’s how it goes.”
Amanda frowns. “And then what?”
“And then I left. What do you think I did? I fucking left.”
Amanda rubs her lips with her fingers and kicks at the carpet with her toes. “Are you really a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you’re so judgy. You’re an uptight little virgin.”
I hug the teddy bear. Amanda’s not saying more, but I can see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. She thinks there’s something wrong with me. It’s not fair. I might not approve of her lifestyle, but I’ve never been judgy. I don’t think.
After a minute, she says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. But I have to ask. Why? You’re pretty. Are you saving yourself for marriage?”
“No. I’ve just been busy doing other things. College was a lot of work.”
She grins. “If you give it up to a rock star, that would be epic.”
I give her a dirty look. “He’s just a street busker who might get a recording contract or might not. He’s not a rock star.” I turn and look out the window at the darkness. “Not yet.”
“Lay down the rules,” she says. “The next time you see him, if he does anything rude, you slap him across the face. Listen, this is going to sound totally sexist, but guys aren’t like us. Our brains work all the time. Girls are always the same, and always thinking. But when guys see a girl they want, they go into animal mode.”
I get a chill that gives me goosebumps. I swivel around on my chair and see that Amanda’s face is serious. She’s twirling her blonde hair and pulling it across her mouth nervously.
“They’re not like us,” she repeats.
“Are you saying it’s okay for them to…” I can’t say the word. “Be forceful?”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are glassy, shining. Now they fill with tears.
