The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  “I thought you were at work.” Janice leans forward to grab the remote and turns off the television.

  My gaze instantly falls to her arms, to the tiny cuts there. They look better now that the blood has dried. Not so horrific.

  When she stands up to leave, I hold my hand out to stop her. “You're fine. I'm just going to make a cake.”

  “I'm fine?” She raises an eyebrow as if that was a stupid thing for me to say.

  “No work today?” I ask as I make my way to the kitchen.

  She settles back on the sofa. “I called in. I'm in too much pain to be on my feet all day doing all of that moving around.”

  “That makes sense. You looked to be in pretty bad shape last night.” I open the pantry to pull out a box of chocolate cake mix.

  “I am in bad shape. And so are you, judging by the pj's.” She nods towards me.

  “It was a rough day. Lucian canceled his interior design contract.” I set the box on the kitchen counter and open one of the cabinets to pull out a mixing bowl.

  “Oh,” she doesn't sound the least bit surprised.

  “Yeah. I still don't know why. I texted and called him, but he hasn't answered. I think that maybe he's mad at me, but I have no clue why.” I try to shrug it off. Just talking about Lucian is making me depressed again. This is one of the reasons why I wish she wasn't here. I don't really feel like talking. I just want to eat my cake and forget everything.

  Janice doesn't say anything. She just stares at the television screen while I mix and pour the cake. The silence is awkward, but I'm thankful for it.

  After I put the cake in the oven, I come to join her on the sofa. When I lean over to pick up the remote, she grabs my wrist. Her grip is firm, and the sudden action catches me off guard. I glance over at her, confused.

  “We need to talk,” she tells me, and her eyes have that serious look in them that says something is very wrong.

  I lean back, feeling my body begin to tense. “Alright, talk.”

  “I don't know how to say this. I don't even know where to begin. You're going to be so mad at me.” Her gaze shifts to the ceiling.

  All of the horrible feelings I was trying to push down surge to the surface. I already know what this is about. My hands are shaking just thinking about it. Hopefully, I'm wrong. I'm probably not though. I've never seen Janice look more guilty in all the time that I've known her.

  I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. She simply sits there, staring at the ceiling as if she's praying for forgiveness. Every passing second is excruciating. My nerves feel like they're on fire with anger and an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

  “Did you fuck him?” I ask quietly. Part of me doesn't want the answer, but I know that I need it. I need to hear it so that I can hate them both. So that I can fall apart and scream and throw shit.

  “No.” She shakes her head, finally allowing it to fall.

  I suck in a breath between clenched teeth. “But he did this to you.”

  “Yes.” She wraps her arms around herself. Her voice is unsteady and I can see the tears forming in her eyes. I can't feel sorry for her though.

  Everything in me wants to rage. It would be so easy for me to lash out at her right now. I want to choke her and punch her and be dramatic. Ask her why. Cry like a lunatic. The anger is definitely there, but it has transcended anything I've ever felt before.

  The two people I care about the most. I don't know what they did together. I know some of it, just by looking at Janice. But oddly, I don't care to know the rest. And then the realization hits me. I don't care. I don't care about Lucian. I don't care about Janice. They could both catch on fire, and I wouldn't piss on them to put them out. Neither one of them matters to me anymore. Not one bit. It's as if something inside of me has broken and part of my soul has slipped out, the part that has any compassion for those who have stabbed me directly in the heart.

  I stand abruptly, turning from Janice to go to my room.

  “Where are you going?” she sobs.

  “I'm leaving,” I reply plainly. “I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  “Amy, wait!” My name is a choked sob on Janice's lips.

  I want to be deaf to it. I pretend to be deaf to it, opening my closet to find my suitcase. I can't stay in this apartment any longer, not knowing what I know now. Being ignorant was blissful, though there was always the slightest hint of suspicion in the back of my mind.

  There aren't many Doms at Flesh. Common sense should have told me that Janice would end up with Lucian. The part of me that truly believed she cared for me as a friend, and that he loved me, tried to pretend that there was no way possible they would do this to me. It was wishful thinking though. Reality is cruel. Everything has been cruel in my world lately. Why should this be any different?

  Curse words linger on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell Janice to fuck off, but I remain silent. The goal is to be bigger than her right now. Bigger than both of them. I will gather my things and leave and never speak to either one of them again. That's the best way to handle this.

  “We didn't do anything.” Janice leans against the door frame of my bedroom, tears streaming down her face in torrents.

  Oh, you didn't? Really? Those marks on your body tell me otherwise.

  I'd love to take my time packing, but desperation is getting the best of me. I know Janice isn't going to leave me alone. She's going to trail behind me like a puppy, crying and whining and begging for me to forgive her. Silence is the best punishment. Well, next to my permanent absence from her life.

  “We didn't kiss. He didn't touch me. We just did the scene together.” She boldly takes a step into my room, standing between me and my dresser. I push past her, practically knocking her over before opening my top dresser drawer, grabbing two fistfuls of bras and underwear and returning to messily shove them into my suitcase. “You have to believe me. I knew it was wrong, but...”

  But what? You wanted him so badly that you stopped caring. Pft. I know how that is. He's charming. He gets what he wants. Always. You two have secretly lusted after each other from the first time you met. Be happy. Now you can have each other. I won't be in the way anymore.

  I close my suitcase, realizing that I'm leaving behind over half a dozen things that I need. I don't care anymore though. I have to get out of here before I snap. That point is so close. I feel like a rubber band wound too tightly. It's only a matter of time before I break and destroy everything around me.

  I don't even bother changing my clothes. I simply slip on a pair of flip flops, grab my suitcase and my keys, and head for the door. I'll come back to get the rest of my stuff later after I've had time to cool off, whenever I know that Janice won't be home.

  “Please, Amy, don't leave.” Janice clutches at my arm, but I jerk it away from her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  The tension in my jaw has built to an insurmountable level by the time I reach the front door. I've been clenching my teeth so tightly that I'm surprised they haven't shattered. My mind is screaming for me to keep my mouth shut. She wants me to break my silence. If I do, I feel like she'll win in some way. I can't help it though.

  I turn to her, hatred plastered across my face like a dark mask. “You did hurt me though. You hurt me on a level I never knew I could be hurt, and I will never forgive you for it.”

  ***

  My strength fades by the time I pull out of the apartment complex parking lot, tires screeching. I'm a mess of wracking sobs all the way to my parents' house. My heart feels broken beyond repair. It's a different feeling than anything that Lucian has put me through before. The pain is on multiple levels like my heart was made of layers of glass and someone took a hammer to each one individually. I've lost the man I love and my best friend in one night. It feels like there's not much left to lose. All I have now are work and Derrick and my parents. And things at work are shaky at best.

  I know I won't feel well enough to go in to work
tomorrow. Hopefully, it won't matter. It's not like there's going to be anything for me to do anyway. Tyra will likely still be upset about Lucian ending his interior design contract, but I don't know if that will make it better or worse that I don't show. I'm not sure it really matters right now. I doubt I'll get fired, so I'll deal with whatever consequences calling in causes when the time comes. There's no point in me going to work if I'm just going to be a sniffling, blubbering mess all day. And I definitely would be. Lucian has officially filled his 'make Amy cry quota' for the week, as Derrick would call it. He's filled it for the last time. Topped it off to the max by fucking around with Janice. Good God, I hate them both.

  My mother greets me at the door with an embrace. I cry and cry and cry. Even though she keeps asking what's wrong, I can't respond. I'm too tired to talk about it right now.

  “Not tonight,” I say weakly as I pull away from her. “I just want to go to bed and forget about today.”

  Thankfully, she doesn't pry. My mother is good like that, knowing when not to push me. Besides, it's getting late. My father has already gone to bed. This isn't something worth having a family discussion over.

  She follows me to my old bedroom—which was converted into a guest bedroom after I first moved out—kisses me on the forehead, and leaves me alone with my demons. For a few seconds, I just stand in the doorway, looking around, wondering how things went so wrong. It's Lucian fault, of course. Or maybe it's Janice's. If I never met Lucian, none of this would have happened. But if Janice hadn't gotten me into the lifestyle, I never would have met him in the first place.

  They definitely belong together, I think with a heavy sigh before closing the door behind me, setting my suitcase down, kicking off my flip flops and crawling into bed. The scent of the sheets is comforting. It smells like home. But nothing will soothe the aching in my heart. Perhaps now I'm just as damaged as Lucian is, never to be healed again. It's a disconcerting thought and one that makes me cry late into the night.

  The next morning, I wake up and call in to work. Both of my parents have jobs, so I have the house all to myself. I sit in front of the television, eating a brand of cereal that's practically tasteless, and I stew. Somehow, during the night, my sorrow turned into resentment. Well, to be truthful, I resented Janice and Lucian the moment I found out they had been together. But I feel like they're both getting off easy. Lucian more so than Janice.

  The sense of injustice is overwhelming. He messed up my friendships, threatened my job, and broke my heart. Calmly disappearing and letting him get away with all of it just seems wrong. That thought is amplified by watching a whole lot of Lifetime Movie Network. I'll never understand why a channel for women has a whole bunch of shows with women getting cheated on, beaten, murdered, and raped. Where's the justice in the world? How can men get away with so much, yet women can't even seem to grow a backbone most of the time without facing some type of backlash because of it? The thought makes me seethe. Even worse, it makes me plot.

  Lucian is at work right now. It would be the perfect time to...what? Break into his house and destroy his precious dungeon. That sounds absolutely lovely. I know he has thousands of dollars worth of equipment in there. But this isn't worth going to jail over. And I know his home has a security system. All I'd probably have to do is tap on one of the windows and cops would be at his door in less than fifteen minutes. It's always a big deal when someone breaks into a rich guy's house.

  Mark that thought off of my list of possibilities for vengeance.

  Lucian said he drives himself to work most days. I could go to his practice, find the nicest car in the parking lot, and go to town on it with a baseball bat. That wouldn't take me anywhere near as long. But I have no idea what he drives, and with my luck, I'd end up accidentally targeting some celebrities car and still go to jail.

  Not a good idea either.

  I slump against the sofa, screwing my face at the television. If only this stuff was as easy as they make it look in the movies. Why does getting revenge have to be so difficult? All I want is a little bit of retribution for my pain and suffering, but I don't want to have to deal with the consequences of it. Is that so much to ask for?

  The show I'm watching cuts to commercials. I stare at the television blankly, internally pouting at the realization that there's absolutely nothing I can do to get back at Lucian. He's won, as he always does. Fucking asshole.

  But then a commercial for Home Depot flashes across the screen. I'm so lost in thought that I practically miss it. Apparently, my mind is still processing the images though, because they're running a special on a certain product, and the second that I see it, a light bulb instantly goes off inside of my head. I now know what I'm going to do. I know how I'm going to get revenge against Lucian.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It's funny how quickly my mood can shift. One minute, I'm giddily filling up a shopping cart with cans of spray paint. The next minute, my palms are sweating profusely and I'm second guessing my plan as I pull into Lucian's driveway.

  This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.

  That's the good girl inside of me talking, the one who has always played by the rules. Well, this is what playing by the rules has gotten me, a broken heart and a damaged friendship. That girl is the one who got me into this mess in the first place, chasing the idea of a perfect romance with the wrong man.

  You deserve this. Sure, he probably has video surveillance so he'll know it's you, but I highly doubt he'll turn you in for it. And even if he doesn't have video surveillance, he'll still know it's you. That's all that matters in the end, I think. The mess will be easy enough for him to clean up, but at least he'll get the message.

  I jump my car up onto the curb, making sure to run over some of his landscaping and give myself room for what I want to do. From the second that I arrive, my eyes are glued on the front door of Lucian's house. The paranoid part of me is worried that he'll walk outside and shoo me away. Then this would have all been pointless. The reasonable side of me though knows he's at work. I came here to do this, and I'm going to do it, but not without some internal coaxing.

  I take a deep breath and kill the engine before quickly leaning over to grab two cans of spray paint from the plastic bag on my passenger's seat. Even though Lucian lives at the end of a cul-de-sac that hardly anyone ever drives down, I need to do this quickly. I want to do this quickly. My heart feels like it might burst free from my chest, the adrenaline is running through me so strong.

  I pop the tops off of both cans, then force my car door open and step outside, taking one final look at the house before heading to the driveway. I shake one of the cans, listening to the clicking sound that it makes. I'm so nervous that I feel like I might choke. My brain is screaming at me not to do it, but my body doesn't listen. I bend over and start spraying the word 'MANWHORE' in letters big enough so that they could be seen from space.

  By the time I'm done, a lot of the jitters have worn off. Realizing that I'm not going to get caught gives me more confidence. I straighten myself and suck in a deep breath of victory, my eyes dancing around the front of his property, picking out other targets to vandalize.

  I'll spray paint the front of his house, and then I'll do his lawn and trees if I have paint left. He'll come home to a nice big mess that blatantly screams 'I hate your fucking guts.' Then perhaps I can feel like I've won for once. At least this is making me happy at the moment. That's all that matters for now. One sliver of happiness in my otherwise miserable day.

  I toss the empty cans in my car and take out new ones, walking to the front of his house to spray paint 'Dr. Douche Bag' across it. I was going to write out the word Doctor, but I don't think there will be enough room if I want people to be able to see it from the road.

  I'm gleefully putting the loop on the 'e' when something walks into my peripheral vision.

  “Amy?”

  The voice makes me cringe, and my body instantly goes into flight mode. I toss the spray paint cans into the shrubber
y and start running, then I curse myself at the realization that I just left evidence behind. It's too late to go back though. If I try to retrieve the cans, Lucian will catch me for sure. What in the hell is he doing home on a weekday?

  The adrenaline pumping through my body doubles. I know that Lucian runs for exercise, so he's very capable of catching me. By some miracle, he's too confused to give chase. Instead of coming after me, he rounds the corner of the house to look at what I've done, which gives me the chance to get to my car.

  I fumble with my keys, dropping them.

  “Shit,” I squeak, splaying my fingers on the ground to find them faster.

  I glance up, but Lucian isn't coming towards me. He's reading what I've written across the wall with a scowl on his face. Maybe I'll be able to get away after all, not that that guarantees he won't call the police.

  I manage to locate my keys and get into my car. I don't even bother buckling up before jamming the key into the ignition, turning it, and putting my car in drive. When I look up, Lucian is finally walking towards me. He seems absolutely pissed. If I wasn't so afraid of getting in trouble, I might feel happy. As it is, the situation is way too awkward for me to glean any joy from it.

  I step on the gas, peeling out, my tires kicking up grass as they struggle for traction. My car flies by Lucian, and I can hear him calling my name. I look back for a fraction of a second, wanting to savor his displeased expression. He's not giving chase, just standing there with his arm outstretched and a remote in his hand.

  I turn my head back around a moment too late. A line of road spikes is coming up from the ground at the edge of his driveway. I slam on the breaks, knowing that I won't make it over them in time. My car wheels screech and the smell of burning rubber fills the air, the sudden abrupt stop throwing my torso forward against the steering wheel. I brace myself and pray, but I was going way too fast. The sound of my front tires exploding instantly draws tears to my eyes.