The V Card
Ten weeks later…
The last of the dirty gray snow had melted in front of our apartment, making room for the pink tulips in the flowerbeds to break free from their wintery hiding place. Spring had arrived and in one week I would be headed to Punta Cana with Kiki and a group of friends to bask in the sun, splash in the waves, and breathe in the salty, tropical air.
The trip was an early birthday present from Dad and Karen, and a perfect motivator to ditch my demons and stop living like a prisoner. Since The Incident, I had moved out with Kiki on schedule and started my spring semester as planned. Dad was against the idea, but when I flashed the “I will not let one bad experience define me” card, I moved on with his blessing.
On the outside, I was calm and confident. On the inside, I was a paranoid disaster. But every day I left my apartment and came back alive, I was stronger, braver, and more confident I would be okay.
The Russians were gone.
Vladimir was out of my life.
I had won.
On a perfectly sunny and unseasonably warm Saturday in mid-March, I felt brave enough to go for a run in the park off campus. It was stocked with moms and dads pushing strollers, skateboard kids, and dogs playing fetch with their families. I jogged past a group of guys playing a pickup game of soccer on the rec fields. One of the dudes attempted a goal, but the defender blocked it. The ball bounced high in the air and was headed straight for me.
“Watch out!” one of the players yelled.
I zeroed in on the ball, shuffled sideways to get underneath it, and popped back a header. The ball bounced back to the field, and the guys cheered.
“She’s on my team,” a cutie with sandy brown hair pulled back in a messy man bun said.
I blushed and waved dismissively, embarrassed by my sporty nature.
The cutie jogged over to me. “Seriously, we need a fourth. You in?”
My experience with the Russians had taught me a valuable lesson: Life is precious. Get over your bullshit.
“Okay,” I said.
“Great. I’m Benji.” He held out his hand. His wrist was loaded with braided nature-boy bracelets.
“Carter.” We shook.
We played against his friends for an hour or so—Benji and I won—then he invited me to stay for a picnic lunch. In the weeks following my ordeal with the Russians, I’d been going through the motions: tennis, classes, work, study, repeat. I’d played it safe, not quite ready to jump back in to my new Russian-free normal. Hanging out with a new person, reaching out, felt like life to me. Maybe I was finally coming back.
We joined the other two guys at a picnic table, and Benji unpacked a stack of sandwiches, cold salads, chips, and natural cola.
“Turkey club or egg salad? Both organic,” Benji said.
“Oh. I’m a vegetarian. I’ll just have some chips.”
“What kind of vegetarian? Vegan, ovo, lacto…”
“Lacto.”
“I knew there was a reason I made my asiago and sun-dried tomato pasta salad today.” He opened up a glass container, loaded up a plate, and handed it to me.
I took a bite of the pasta, chewed, and swallowed. “This is delicious. You made it?”
“One of my many talents.” Benji smiled. “If you like that, you’ll have to try my famous mushroom risotto.” He peeked over at me and wiped his bangs out of his eyes. “If you want to hang out sometime, I’ll make it for you.”
I felt my cheeks flush.
Yes, yes, yes, Sophia said.
“Like, tonight?” Benji said. “My place is over there.” He pointed to the apartments across the street. “We can swing by Whole Foods on the way back.”
“Uh, tonight?” Paranoia set in. Maybe he’s trying to lure me to his house because the pakhan has come back, and he’s there waiting for me. It’d be just like the Russians to use a hottie to trick me—wait. Is this the devil talking?
“Or another time.” Benji looked down, dejected.
His buddies chided him.
Sophia folded her wings across her body and hung her head in defeat.
Enough. This is my life. I’ll make my own decisions. I vanquished the devil first. Mentally, I torched the forked-tongue bastard and watched him burn. Next, I let go of Sophia’s angel voice of wisdom. She spread her silvery wings and ascended into the heavens, making room for my own thoughts and my own voice of reason that said: Stop living in fear.
Game plan change up: “Tonight’s good.”
“Really?”
“But…”
“But?”
“Is it okay if we go out for coffee instead? Mushroom risotto is a big step for me.”
***
Later that afternoon, I met Benji at a crowded indie coffee house around the corner from our apartment. We ordered our drinks and a big slice of vegan carrot cake with thick, creamy frosting to share. Two forks. Benji was a junior majoring in urban planning. He taught me about sky farming, and he sketched out a design on a napkin of a self-sustaining community he wanted to develop that could, ultimately, end world hunger.
He’s passionate, ambitious—and hot.
Every day since we met, Benji came over to hang out after class. We had fun kicking around a soccer ball, making hemp bracelets out on the balcony of my apartment, and just being together.
On the eve of my trip to Punta Cana, Benji tied a special friendship bracelet around my wrist. “This is so you won’t forget me.”
“Aw, thanks. It’s beautiful.”
Benji shook his head. “Not the bracelet. This…” He lifted my chin and pressed his lips against mine. I melted when his beard scratched against my skin and his warm hand massaged the nape of my neck. I ran my fingers up his back and through his hair. His earthy scent of hot guy and patchouli lit my fire. I’d only known Benji for six days, but I invited him to spend the night. Kiki was staying with Toby, her lab partner she’d been lusting after for months, so we had the place to ourselves.
My bedroom was tiny, and I just had a twin bed. The idea of snuggling with Benji all night, crammed in that tiny space together was exciting, but also nerve-wracking. I hadn’t yet told him I was a virgin. I mean, we were in college. I didn’t have faith that this gorgeous guy would stick around too long while I was still waving my V card.
But I was wrong.
When I broke the news, he honestly seemed impressed. And to put me at ease, he came up with a brilliant, less intimidating sleeping arrangement. We moved around the living room furniture, tossed the cushions off the couch onto the floor, and made a fort out of sheets in front of the balcony. We kissed under the streetlights and touched and laughed and did all the things lovers do, without going all the way.
This is what a healthy relationship feels like.