The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  "It's just that no one has liked me in a long time," I huff, picking up my glass of wine and turning to toss myself back into Derrick's arms. I want cuddles, all the cuddles that Lucian Reddick has denied me. The guy has the warmth of a stone in the middle of a snowstorm. Not Derrick though. Derrick always gives good cuddles. I love it.

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, kissing the side of my head. I close my eyes and sigh contently. This is what dating should feel like. This, plus that warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from liking someone a lot. It's the only thing missing from the scene. I can pretend though. I can pretend that everything is perfect—fall into the illusion of the perfect romance—if only for a little while.

  The wine is starting to get to me. I'm having a hard time concentrating on the television, and my eyes are growing heavy. I'm just so darn comfortable though that I don't want to move.

  Reality fades away, and I slip into the space between dreaming and being awake. I envision that Lucian is with me, that it's his arm around me. I imagine that he's mine, that we're dating like normal people. He's sitting on my sofa with his arm wrapped around me. The way that he looks at me speaks volumes about what we feel for each other.

  He pulls away from me gently, his impossibly blue eyes locked onto mine. I could stare at them forever, get completely lost in them and never want to be found. They're amazing, just like the rest of him.

  He leans in to kiss me, and I part my lips almost reflexively. Our mouths meet, and I expect that lush softness that I always feel from his kiss. Something is different though. His lips don't feel the same.

  My eyes flutter open, and I realize that someone is touching me. The dream that I was having fades away into a strange reality. All I see is skin. All I feel is warmth against my mouth. My head jerks back as my mind fights to put the pieces together. Derrick pulls away from me, and his eyes are wide with shock.

  He was kissing me.

  It wasn't a dream. He was really kissing me.

  I'm not sure how to react. I'm not even awake or sober enough to fully process what just happened. All I can do is stare, my hand moving to touch my lips as if I'm still not sure whether the kiss was real or not. I lick my lips and taste cherry ChapStick. I'm not wearing ChapStick. He definitely kissed me.

  I wait for him to say something—wait to think of something to say. For several seconds, we just sit there staring at each other. Then he moves in again.

  Briefly, I move away, unsure if I want him to kiss me again or not. This is all so strange. But, to be honest, the alcohol has made me a bit horny, coupled with that odd mini-dream I had.

  Derrick's lips meet mine, soft and uncertain. He closes his eyes and cradles my head, his mouth moving tenderly on top of mine. I don't reciprocate the kiss—don't part my lips to allow him entry. I'm too busy trying to figure out if I like him kissing me.

  When he pulls away this time, he keeps his face near to mine. He's almost on top of me. So close, almost suffocatingly so.

  "I thought you were gay," is the only thing I can stutter.

  He seems to take it like a slap, because he recoils, pressing his back against the sofa and staring forward. The air fills with an awkward tension. Neither one of us can look at the other.

  "I've wanted to do that for a while," he tells me, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice.

  "Did you feel anything from it?"

  He hesitates, thinking. "I felt everything. Everything I had both hoped and feared I would feel."

  It's an incredibly sweet thing to say, yet insulting at the same time. I'm honestly not sure how to take it. I'm not sure how I feel about what's going on.

  "Can I kiss you again?" he asks.

  "Yes."

  This time, I turn to him as well. We look at each other like teenagers necking for the first time. I should have let him advance on me, because we move in the same direction at the same time, causing an embarrassing series of actions that make it seem like fate is trying to keep us from each other.

  This is wrong. I know it, and I'm pretty sure he knows it. We've been friends for a long time. Stuff like this ruins friendships. At least, we can blame it on the alcohol. Alcohol tends to make everyone bi-sexual. And I am feeling needy right now. Maybe it will be okay.

  "Here, let me." Derrick holds my face in his hands, keeping me steady while he cranes his neck to kiss me.

  I shut my eyes and squeeze them together as I open my mouth for him. His tongue slips inside, lightly covering mine. The kiss is so gentle, careful, void of the desperate want that I need to believe that this is real—that he means what he's doing. He's kissing me like I'm breakable, exploring slowly, taking his time. It feels worlds away from what I'm used to, at this point.

  As we kiss, all I can think about is Lucian, how he knows when to be aggressive and when to pull back, when to kiss me like he means it and when to be gentle. He's very experienced with kissing women, knowing what they need. Derrick isn't. Derrick is...

  I pull away from him and move back on the sofa, putting distance between us.

  His expression is full of concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "No." I shake my head. "No. You didn't do anything wrong."

  "Then why did you pull away?"

  My shoulders slump as I try to find a way to word things so that he doesn't get offended. "We're drunk, Derrick. You don't mean this."

  He furrows his brows. "I do mean it, Amy."

  "Why now, then? Why not when we were sober? Why didn't we talk about this first?"

  Derrick shrugs. "I guess I just wasn't brave enough before now. I needed liquid courage." He nods towards our glasses of wine.

  "But we've known each other for years. It doesn't make sense that you'd come out with this now. Besides, you're gay. And I know you're not just pretending to be gay. I've met some of your boyfriends."

  He looks shy suddenly. "I guess there are exceptions to every rule."

  I'm speechless. What happens now? Where do we go from here? I'm not even sure how I feel about him? I've never had romantic feelings for Derrick before. He's been off-limits since the moment I first found out his preferences lean towards dating other men. Never in a million years would I have thought that he'd get feelings for me.

  I lick my lips, tasting the lingering hint of cherry. My mouth feels waxy now, unnatural. I reach over to grab my glass of wine from the coffee table and quickly down it.

  "Say something to me, Amy."

  I hadn't realized he'd been staring at me this entire time, waiting for me to speak. I'm not sure what he wants me to say.

  "This is all so sudden," is all I can come up with.

  "Do you," he hesitates. "Do you...like me?"

  I set my glass back down and hug myself. Things have never been more awkward between us than they are right now. I feel backed into a corner like he expects me to have an answer right this second.

  "I've never really thought about it before," I admit. "I mean, I've always just assumed that you were gay and that..."

  "I can see how you would think that." He seems to relax a little, leaning back against the sofa, a coy smile playing across his face. "You know, I've never really been interested in women. My mom always says that it's because I've never met the right one. I think she's been holding out on hope for a long time.

  "I honestly never thought I'd meet a girl I like. I mean, yeah, I'm obviously attracted to men. I've been with a lot of them. Not that I'm a slut or anything." He looks over at me quickly as if he fears I might lump him in the same category as Lucian from that statement. "There's just something about you though."

  "Something about me." I try to resist rolling my eyes, but it happens anyway. There's nothing special about me. I'm chubby and a bit uptight and prone to giving in to social pressure. About a million other girls in the world share the same qualities.

  "You're sweet, and you're funny, and you're easy to talk to. You're unsure of yourself a lot, but you try to hide it. I see it though. I can see when
your confidence falters." He lazily points to me, keeping his hand on his lap. "You want to make everyone happy, and you're willing to sacrifice your own happiness to see it done. I think that's really why you've been fighting not to piss Reddick off."

  He had me until the last part. Sure, that was why I wanted to please Lucian in the beginning, but that's not the case now. I'm putting my own heart before money and the needs of the company.

  I cock my head to the side to look at Derrick. "I can't really think about this right now. I need to sober up before I can process my feelings."

  "That's understandable." He nods. "And I don't want you to feel like you have to like me just because I like you. Even if you're not interested in me romantically, I don't want our friendship to change." His expression is hopeful.

  It's too late though. Our friendship has already changed. That one kiss shifted him from being a trusted friend to a potential love interest. Even if things don't pan out between us, it will be a while before our relationship returns to normal if it ever does.

  "I still think it's just the wine talking." I take another sip from my glass, even though it's empty.

  "Well, I suppose we won't know until the effects of the wine have passed, now will we?" He reaches to grab my glass, and then stands to go to the kitchen for another refill. Even though I tried to drink from the glass, I don't think I want more alcohol. I was just thirsty.

  When he returns, I ask the question that's now nagging at me. "What would you have done if I hadn't woken up?"

  "Hm?" He seems startled for a moment. "Oh. I don't know."

  "Did you even plan for it, me waking up, that is?"

  "To be honest, it was all in the moment. I just saw you sleeping there, looking so beautiful. I had to kiss you."

  It's the most romantic thing anyone has said to me in a while, but somehow it doesn't cause the feelings that I thought it would. There's no warmth or desire for him.

  "Would you rather pretend it didn't happen?" He arches a perfect brow.

  "For now," I admit. "Can we just finish our wine and enjoy the rest of the night?"

  It's a lot to hope for and kind of a rude request. I wait for the pained look in Derrick's eyes, but instead of acting rejected, his expression softens. He extends his arm for me to curl under it, and I do, though with a little more apprehension than before. Derrick holds me against him, rubbing my shoulder absentmindedly as we continue to watch Futurama in silence. No matter how hard I try though, I can't relax.

  The minutes and hours drag by at a snail's pace. It's not long before my eyes are growing heavy, but I dare not sleep, even though I trust Derrick not to try to kiss me again. After all, I made it clear to him that anything romantic between us is going to be put on hold until we're both sober. He's not like Lucian. He's not going to force me into being with him. It's one part of Derrick that I thought I loved. Now though, with alcohol flowing through me, my body is needy for a rough touch. Derrick definitely doesn't have a rough touch. He wouldn't hold me down and press his body on top of mine, kiss me hard and force his way between my legs. He's not Lucian Reddick.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  By the time Derrick finally leaves, I can barely keep my eyes open. Our goodbye is awkward—the way he looks wantonly at me and hugs me a bit too long. I feel great affection from him, but I can't convince myself that it's anything other than the alcohol talking. He's probably just horny and lonely, and that's what spurred his advance. Maybe the next time I see him, he'll be embarrassed about what he did and try to explain it away. And I'll forgive him. We all have our strange drunken moments where we say things we don't mean and do things we shouldn't. Alcohol is one hell of a drug.

  Once the door is shut behind him, I take our glasses and the leftover snacks to the kitchen. The glasses go in the sink, and I spend the next several minutes bagging up what's left of the goodie tray. Even though we gorged ourselves, there's still a lot. I'll pig out on it again tomorrow and then bring the rest to work as snacks throughout the week.

  When I finish cleaning up the kitchen, I go take a shower and slip into bed. My mind is wired awake though, and I don't sleep. After two hours of just lying there staring up at the ceiling, I decide to get up, drink a bunch of water, and wait for Janice to come home from work.

  She walks through the door at nearly four o'clock in the morning. At that point, I'm struggling to stay awake, but I'm stubborn, and I really want to tell her what happened with Derrick.

  "What are you doing still up?" she asks as she notices the glow from the television.

  I put my hand on the back of the sofa and turn around to look at her. "You're never going to believe what happened."

  "Blue Eyes came over and pounded you in every room in the apartment." She sets her purse on the bar. The disinterest in her voice is almost palpable. I can tell she's not in the mood to launch into a lengthy conversation. That makes sense though, considering the long day she has had.

  "No. It has nothing to do with Lucian." I shake my head.

  Her shoulders slump as she turns to me. "Please don't make me guess, Amy. I have a splitting headache." She draws her hand up to her temple.

  "You're totally not going to believe it." I watch her walk around the side of the sofa to sit next to me.

  She drops down heavily, looking exhausted. "Out with it."

  "Derrick kissed me." My energy renews as I tell her the spicy tidbit.

  She knits her brow in confusion. "Queer Eye Derrick?"

  "Don't call him that." I smack her side.

  "Oh God, have you been drinking?" She stands up and moves several feet away as if the smell of my breath might make her wretch.

  "Mhm." I nod with a grin.

  We're like polar opposites from last night. Now she's sober, and I'm the drunk one. At least, she's not going to have to hold back my hair while I throw up into the toilet in my underwear.

  "You do realize that Derrick is gay, right?" She puts a hand on her hip.

  "I thought he was, but he says I'm an exception to the rule." I sink back against the sofa, thinking about all the sweet things Derrick said to me.

  "Was he drinking?"

  "Yeah. We both were."

  "Then I wouldn't think anything of it." She gestures at me absentmindedly.

  I sulk a bit though I don't know why. I really shouldn't want Derrick to have romantic feelings for me. "Maybe you're right. I mean, I thought it was just the alcohol at first too, but then he started saying all of these things to me."

  "How much did you guys drink?" She shifts her weight.

  "Two bottles of wine."

  "And he's a lightweight." Janice cocks her head to the side. "Definitely, don't think anything of it. He always gets super affectionate when he's drunk."

  "It wasn't like that though," I say weakly. I've been around Derrick when he was drunk enough times to know that this is something entirely different.

  "I'm going to bed." She yawns dramatically. "You should too."

  "What should I say to Derrick when I see him next?" I ask as she starts walking away.

  She pauses, looking back at me over her shoulder. "I'd just pretend it never happened. He probably won't remember. And if he does, it will be less embarrassing and awkward for the both of you if you don't say anything."

  ***

  The fact that Derrick doesn't even text me the next day is a pretty good sign that his love confession was a drunken fluke. Still, I can't help but dwell on it. This is the first time in my entire life that two guys have liked me at the same time, even if it was only temporary. It's exciting, even if one of them is gay...and the other is a hoebag. Putting it that way, maybe it isn't so exciting after all.

  I decide to spend the day shopping since I don't have a hangover, and I know that the stores are all going to be having sales today. They always do on Labor Day. By the time I'm done, I walk away with two new outfits and a cute pair of pink pumps. All the shopping in the world can't make me feel better though.

  It seems like l
ife this past week has been nothing but a stressfest. Part of me is still pining over Lucian, but I know I'm chasing a phantom. He's not interested in me in the way I want him, and he never will be. The other part of me is worried about what happens if Derrick remembers the things that he said. Even worse, if he meant them.

  It feels odd that I've spent all this time thinking about how perfect Derrick would be if he was straight, but now that I'm presented with a potential opportunity to be with him, I'm so uncertain. Flaws I've never seen in him before began creeping up almost the second that he confessed his feelings. He's more like a brother to me than boyfriend material—friend zoned, and I didn't even realize it. The thought that I have to face both of them tomorrow makes me sick to my stomach.

  Time won't stop just for me though. I spend my afternoon in contemplation and my night in restless sleep. Night turns to day, and I have to get up and face my demons head on—both of them.

  When I walk into the office in the morning, I try to act casual. I barely glance over at Derrick before I sit down at my desk and turn my computer on. As soon as I log in to my email, I see a message from Lucian asking me to come over tonight. Inwardly, I sigh. It's always so hard to face him, even when I have good resolve to stay away. There's little doubt in my mind that he'll advance on me again. I should probably spend the day mentally preparing myself for it.

  Derrick must be super embarrassed about what happened over the weekend because he doesn't even speak to me until lunch. I get the feeling that if we didn't regularly eat together, he might have avoided me for the entire day. The thought kind of hurts, but at the same time, I understand. His confession was pretty brazen. And that kiss...

  "Hey, sugar lips." His eyes fall to my lips as he greets me, but there's a strange emptiness behind them.

  "Hey, studly," I tease, then realize that probably wasn't the best thing to say. I don't want to make him feel any more awkward than I'm sure he already does. "Are we going out to eat today or staying in?"