by G. , Whitney
“I hope your dating app fails and you lose every dime that you’ve ever put into it.” She looks right into my eyes. “I don’t even know why you, of all people, would attempt to build something like that when your idea of a relationship is fucking every woman you see. But I guess that’s why you haven’t gotten anywhere on it in two whole years. Maybe you should’ve stayed in college after all. Everyone isn’t meant to be like Mark Zuckerberg, especially not you.”
We glare at each other for several seconds.
Deciding not to continue this argument, I reverse out of the driveway. I’m determined to call Travis first thing in the morning and tell him that this little arrangement is over.
This “help” is far beyond best friend duties, and I can’t deal with it anymore.
I’m done dealing with Penelope.
An hour later, I’m walking down the candy aisle of a 7-Eleven—armed with enough Monster energy drinks and Skittles to get me through a weekend of work on my dating app.
Contrary to what Penelope said, I’ve made some progress with it over the past couple of years; it’s just been slow.
There’s interest from investors, but they’ve all told me the same thing: “It’s lacking heart,” “Come back when you figure out what’s missing,” or “There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on…”
I grab a box of donuts before making my way to the checkout counter. As I pull out my wallet, my phone buzzes with a new text message.
Penelope.
* * *
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: Just so you know, I’m not sorry about anything I said about you earlier.
Me: I’m not sorry about the shit I said to you either.
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: Good … Can I call you for a second?
Me: For what?
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: The breakup advice you offered earlier. I want to hear it.
Me: I’m no longer interested in giving it to you. Call Travis and get some from him. I’m sure he’d love to know that you had a boyfriend in the first place.
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: *middle finger emoji* *vomit emoji* *suck my dick gif* Sorry for even trying with you. I’ll wait until one of my friends wakes up.
Me: If you have “friends,” why didn’t you ask one of them to pick you up tonight?
* * *
She doesn’t answer, and as much as I’m ready to end all communication with her forever, I can’t help but think about why she didn’t call someone else. Why she’s never asked me to drop her off at anyone else’s house, any movies, anything non-figure-skating related over the past few months.
Between her twelve-hour practice days and her tutoring sessions, she’s only gone to school a few times a week to take tests and turn in assignments.
I have to be missing something.
When I make it to my car, I open the glove box and rummage through papers for Travis’s ‘Things You Need to Help Penelope (Crown) with While I’m Gone’ list.
On the back, listed next to number thirteen, is a line I previously overlooked. It stands out more than ever now:
* * *
13. Help her find some friends.
Our mom was her BFF/Coach/Everything before the accident, so … I know it’ll be hard, but can you introduce her to the *women* on your app team sometime?
* * *
She doesn’t have a single friend.
Against my better judgment, I return her text.
Me: I’ll give you two minutes. Call me whenever.
My phone buzzes instantly.
“My advice is super simple,” I answer, getting straight to the point. “Any guy who really cares about you—especially a college guy, wouldn’t invite you to his room for Valentine’s Day, or any other special nights. He’d try to make a bigger effort than that.”
“You mean, he would ask to come over to my place?”
“No, he would—” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “You’re a virgin, right?”
“I mean, technically. A few of my ex-boyfriends have gone down on me, and I’ve also—”
“I don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence.” I cut her off. “Ever. You’re a virgin, so let’s leave it at that. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, if this particular guy truly wanted you, he would’ve made your first time a lot more special. Did he treat you to a nice dinner first?”
“He took me to Burger King.”
“What about reservations for a nice breakfast somewhere tomorrow, then?”
“He said he would take me to Starbucks.” Her voice is soft. “He did have champagne and strawberries for tonight, though.”
“He probably bought that stuff at one of the frat house ‘V-Day for your Girl’ sales,” I say. “They sell that shit for super cheap since one of the founders owns a distillery in town. I mean, that’s how it was when I went there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” I crank my engine. “Don’t take the next guy you date at his word, okay? You have a lot of shit going on in your life, and you can’t trust any of the boys out here.”
“You mean, boys like you?”
“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “Boys like me. Take it from someone who has mastered the game and has no intention of ever retiring.
“Wow.” She lets out a light laugh. “Thank you very much, Hayden.”
“You’re very welcome. Bye.” I end the call and start to power off my phone, but she calls me again.
“Look.” I answer. “That’s all the advice I have to give you.”
“I’m calling because I have some for you,” she says. “You need a better name and a home page for your dating app. That’s a huge part of what you’re missing.”
“What?”
“Your dating app.” She speaks a little louder. “You need to name it something different and give it a sleeker home page. I mean, that’s what I’ve heard from my physical therapist who uses it.”
Silence.
“Are you there?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You don’t think the name ‘Burning for You’ works?”
“Not unless you’re advertising ‘burning’ after sex.” There was a smile in her voice. “You would know a lot about that though, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m blocking your number after tonight.”
“Speaking of other things that don’t work,” she continues to talk. “That ‘Rate Your Top Picks’ sucks. Oh, and so does the ‘little black book’ thing where people can keep up with their conquests. That’s a disgusting feature, and it makes me gag whenever I see it.”
“Your physical therapist seems to know a lot about my app.”
“She’s rooting for you to fail at life.”
“I see.” I smile. “I’m headed back towards your part of town in a few. Do you mind if I stop by to get more of your therapist’s feedback?”
“I do mind, actually,” she says. “But if you want more of my help, you should bring me a bagel and coffee in exchange for my advice. You should also know that I will always despise you to your core, and this is a one-time thing.”
“Trust me, I already know that.” I scoff. “This is the last time I’ll ever spend this much of my free time talking to you.”
“Is that a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No’ to the bagel?”
“It’s an ‘I’ll think about it.’” I end the call, hesitating a while before sending her a text.
Me: You want cinnamon, garlic, or cream cheese?
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: Cream cheese and cinnamon.
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: Also, ummm … Since this is the last time we’ll be nice to each other * thinking emoji* When I’m done helping you, can I get your advice about some other breakup stuff?
* * *
I don’t answer that.
The last thing I need in my life after tonight is more Penelope. The second she gives me her opinion on the app, I’m insisting that we return to our stalemate.
>
And then I’m calling Travis to end this arrangement.
I look up the closest bagel shop, and she sends me another text message.
* * *
Travis’s Little Annoying Sis: The guy I was with tonight just texted me and said that he’s sorry and that he wants to come over and make things up with me. Of course, it’s a no on that, but can I still be his friend? Like, maybe just to have him around at my competitions?
* * *
I pull onto the road and call her.
“Yeah?” she answers.
“Hell no to dealing with him ever again,” I say. “Read me exactly what he sent you, though.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
I don’t know it then, and I never would’ve believed it, but that moment marks the first of me giving her breakup advice in real-time, the first night of our friendship. As much as I wanted to resist it, my friendship with Penelope eventually becomes the best friendship I’ll ever have in my life …
Ha.
Please.
I give her the advice, take her notes on the app when I arrive at her house, and then I return to our previous routine with ease.
Our rides remain silent on the way to her practices. She leaves my text messages “read,” yet unanswered.
In the rare case that I do say something, it’s nothing more than “Congratulations on winning again,” as she continues to skate her way to the top of every judge’s scorecard.
The only difference is that there’s no hateful tension between us anymore. Well, that, and my name is now “Just Hayden” in her phone.
Breakup #3
the one that wanted a threesome
(break up #2 was ‘the one that wanted me to call him daddy’ but i need to pretend like that one never happened…)
Penelope
Back Then
One of the hardest problems that comes with not having any female friends is having to rely on Instagram and YouTube influencers for random life and dating advice.
My mom showed me the ins and outs of makeup—courtesy of her lauded career on the ice, and she taught me plenty about persistence and being the best, but when it came to guys?
The only advice she was able to share was, “Just don’t date anyone like your brother … Or that Hayden Hunter boy.”
That’s it.
That’s why I’m somewhat grateful that Kayla Lilith—the third-ranked skater in the country and my fellow “practice-mate” has started to hang out with me.
After ballet intensives, between the stretch sessions, and during the off-moments of our morning runs, she’s slowly pulled me into her life.
She’s also the reason why I’m currently putting my number one ranking at risk—again, and standing outside my boyfriend Brody’s apartment on a Saturday night.
I’ve told her that I’m not really one for parties—not even his, but she’s insisted that I show up and confront him about his “lack of communication.” And then she suggests that we finally have sex.
“You said you two were arguing a lot more lately, right? Go to his party and tell him what’ll make you happy … I’ll be there for support if you need me.”
I smooth my hands over my dress before opening the door.
His townhouse is filled to capacity with red cup holding college students, and the scent of alcohol, sweat, and marijuana is in the air.
I spot him standing on the balcony talking to his other friends, but there is a swarm of girls blocking my way.
They’re all fawning over some guy in a black leather jacket. Some guy who has a perfectly chiseled side profile, pearly white smile, and—Hayden?
Shit.
His blue eyes suddenly meet mine and he tilts his head to the side.
He dropped me off at the rink hours ago, and I’m sure he’s expecting to pick me up at midnight.
I turn my head and make a beeline for the punch table.
Grabbing a red cup, I fill it to the brim. I quickly down all of it, as if doing so will make me disappear.
Then I fill it up again.
“So, you decided to come after all?” Brody kisses the back of my neck and briefly grips my hips. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” I turn around and he kisses me deeply.
He clasps my hand, leading me away from the crowd and into the hallway.
“Are you planning to stay the night with me?” he asks, pressing a kiss against my exposed collarbone.
“Yes.”
“Good, because I think I figured out why we’re having communication problems. I also know why you always stop when I’m trying to have sex with you.”
I raise my eyebrow, confused.
“It’s a trust issue, right?”
“No, it’s because you always conveniently forget to bring condoms.”
“We should take some time to address this.”
“Or, you can just remember to bring condoms. Better yet, you can ask me to bring condoms.” I tug at the strap of my purse. “I brought my own this time.”
He laughs and leans closer, whispering in my ear. “I think it would be better if you experienced a threesome for your first time. I think having two people tuned in to your pleasure would relax you.”
WHAT? I can literally hear my vagina threatening to set itself afire if I even consider this.
“You want me to sleep with you and another guy?” I want to believe this is a joke. “Like, for my first time?”
“No,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Another girl, someone you trust.”
“Who?”
“Kayla,” he says. “You said you two were getting closer, so…”
“So, what?”
“So, I think that a threesome would be good for all of us.” He presses another kiss against my neck and my flesh crawls.
I’m grateful that we haven’t been together too long, but I’m hating the fact that I’ll have to start over and find someone else.
There’s no way I’ll look at him the same after this.
“What do you say, Penelope?” he whispers. “It’s what I think is best, if you want to continue this relationship. What do you think?”
“I think we’re fucking over.” I push him away—hard, and head to the bathroom.
Slamming the door shut, I let out a frustrated scream and vow to call Kayla and tell her that she was dead wrong about me coming to this party.
I don’t want to wait for her to get here; I just want to go home.
As I’m splashing my face with water, a soft knock comes to the door.
Someone opens it before I can lock it shut.
“Last time I checked—” Hayden steps inside. “You’re not twenty-one years old yet. I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking at a college party.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Dad. Last time I checked, you’re no longer in college, so you’re not supposed to be here either.”
He looks like he’s about to fire off more sarcasm, but his expression softens. “Why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
“Because I’m skipping practice for this terrible party.”
“I can see that.” He smiles. “I’m sure your opponents would be quite pissed to know that you have tons of extra time to spend on dating.”
I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult, so I don’t respond.
I lift the red cup to my lips, but he takes it and hands me a water bottle instead.
“All bullshit aside.” He looks genuine. “What’s wrong, Penelope?”
“I’m not talking to you about this.”
“If you don’t, I’m calling your brother and you can tell him.”
I’m tempted to call his bluff, but he pulls out his cell phone.
Ugh. Traitor. “I was planning to spend the night here when everyone went home, so I could …”
“Give away your virginity?”
“Hang out with my newest boyfriend.”
“You moved on from the las
t guy pretty fast.”
“Not as fast as you.” I gulped down the water. “Anyway, we’ve been arguing a lot more lately, so I came here so we can make up. But then he said he’d only do it if I gave him a threesome with one of my teammates.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me.” I avoid his gaze and sigh. “Travis hasn’t sent me any money lately, so I can’t pay you for gas right now. Tomorrow?”
“Not so fast.” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips. “Why would he ever have the nerve to ask one of your practice mates to join you in a threesome?”
“Because every guy who watches Kayla Lilith skate for all of five seconds is instantly turned on. He probably thinks we’re close enough friends that we’d want to share him.”
“Penelope, Penelope, Penelope.” He shakes his head. “You don’t see what’s going on here?”
“Yeah. You’re trying to make me feel worse about another breakup.”
“I didn’t make you feel bad about the first one. I only gave you my honest opinion.”
“You said that I have the body of a twelve-year-old girl.”
“Twelve-year-old boy.” He has the audacity to smile. “That’s a fact, though.”
“I’m walking home now.” I try to move past him, but he blocks me.
“First of all, your ex-boyfriend is too old for you—again. If the next guy you find can have a beer with me with a real ID, then he’s too old for you. Clear?”
I cross my arms.
“Second of all, your practice-mate—who rarely ever talked to you, until recently, probably came onto him at some point. Or, vice versa. They’re both shitty individuals, but the threesome has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.”
I mentally rewind my last few conversations with Kayla and remember how she spent more time talking about how “cute and sexy” Brody was than anything else.
“So, I was dating another cheater?” I ask.
