“He’s a fucking douchebag and you should have let me cut his balls off when you first found that profile.”
That’s my bestie for you. Ashton Sullivan is always the girl I want in my corner, especially when my dickhead of a boyfriend tells me that he was only online dating to find us the “perfect fit.” Call me naïve, but at first I had no idea what he was trying to say. Fit? For what? Then I realized he meant for sex. He acted like he was doing me a favor by dating other women.
“Ash, really? You wouldn’t actually cut off his penis so just stop.”
“Balls. His motherfucking balls, Piper. And for you? Yes, I would. Tony Dominguez would be walking around town sans balls if I had my way. Now drink this water and I’ll get you another shot. We’ve got boot camp tomorrow morning and, while I fully support your plan to get shit-faced, you need to hydrate,” Ash dictates as she slides a water my way and makes her way to the end of the bar to help a customer.
I cannot believe this is my life. I’m a good person. I recycle, minimize my swearing, only drink on the weekends, and use my blinker! If using my blinker doesn’t just scream, “I’m a good person!” I don’t know what does. Fucking Tony Dominguez. He’s screwed me up so bad I’m not only swearing but drinking on a weeknight. So what if I’m not actually working right now, that’s beside the point.
My phone indicates another text message, which should be followed by the phone ringing in 3, 2, 1 … there it is. I hit the ignore button before Luke Bryan can even ask me to shake it for him. Showing my phone whose boss, I flip it the bird before I suck down the water Ashton gave me so I can have that promised shot.
A threesome. Screw him. When he told me he wanted to spice it up a little in the bedroom, I figured we’d go to the adult store – three towns over – and pick up something together. No, his idea of “spice” was dating other women to find us the “perfect fit.”
I’m not a prude. I’m not. I may be a little conservative but I’m also open-minded. I just don’t like to share and I also don’t want to sex up a lady. Sure, I think women are great and can appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next person. It’s just that, well, I just like penis. A lot.
I also liked Tony. All six-foot, sexy, and Spanish-speaking Tony Dominguez.
Last night was like any other second Tuesday of the month. I was snuggled up on the couch in my coziest pajamas getting ready to pay bills while Tony was at his weekly basketball game. Unfortunately – or fortunately depending on how you spin it – I hadn’t charged my laptop so I grabbed Tony’s. Imagine my surprise when I opened the top to find him still logged in to HookingUp.com. He wasn’t even trying to find a “perfect fit” on something sweet and kind dot com. Nope, hooking up. Fucker.
“Fuck off!” I mutter as I tap the ignore button on the screen as the alerts of another string of text messages begin. I already know what they say. “It’s not what you think. I love you. We can work this out. Why are you being so stubborn? You really need to get over it. Fuck this Piper. I’m sorry.” On and on again. It’s been this way since about fifteen minutes after I found the website.
“Pipe, just block him, for shit’s sake.” A shot of whiskey and a beer chaser appear in front of me.
Ashton Sullivan has been my best friend most of my life and tends to be a little bossy when it comes to my relationships. Of course, she’s usually right, and has been my go-to for all the important things in life since we bonded over our love of all things shiny and pink at the tender age of five. Ash has been my protector, my own personal cheerleader, and the strongest shoulder to lean on when life has handed me a crap sandwich.
By the time we were approaching double digits, I was suffering from a severe case of puberty. Unruly hair that was less the dark auburn it is now and more a peach-color, bargain bin glasses, and a pudgy middle section were just the highlights of my awkwardness. Then the day came that Ashton and I found the glory of hair products.
My mom also found a job with good insurance, specifically vision insurance, and new glasses added to my less unfortunate look. Both of these simple things led to more confidence, less name calling, and fewer reasons for Ashton to channel her inner bodyguard.
Then my boobs made a sudden appearance. Any confidence I acquired quickly diminished. I suddenly found myself on the receiving end of a different kind of attention. Attention I didn’t understand and frankly didn’t want. Seeking comfort not only from Ash but from Ben & Jerry, I began to bury my nose in books and pack on the pounds. Truthfully, considering the amount of weight I was carrying, I was spending more time with Ben & Jerry than Ashton.
When we started high school, Ashton found a new level of popularity almost immediately. This wasn’t a surprise to me considering her older brother’s legacy. Bentley Sullivan was four years older than us in school, a senior when we stumbled onto campus as over eager and ill-prepared freshmen. Bentley was as close to a celebrity as we had in Lexington, and when he accepted a scholarship and moved away after graduation, the popularity torch was passed on to Ashton with ease.
As her social calendar filled, it would have been easy for Ashton to cast me aside for her cooler and less awkward friends. She never did. Instead of going to parties after the football games Ash would curl up on the couch with me, a pint of ice cream, and cheesy horror movies. If I’d let her she’d have the term “hos before bros” tattooed on her body.
More alerts of text messages and my phone ringing only add to the latest crap sandwich in my life. I rest my head in my hands as I rub my temples. Why am I such an idiot? And, why haven’t I blocked Tony yet? Probably because I know I’ll talk to him and consider taking him back. Not because I’m a glutton for punishment, but because it’s Tony Dominguez.
He’s not the guy that my teenage dreams … okay maybe my current dreams too … were made of, but he was a close second. When he asked me out I felt special. When we hit our six-month anniversary and he told me he loved me, I thought it was a fairytale come true. I realize he’s less Prince Charming and more of an ogre, but he chose me. That has to mean something, right?
I may also be a smidge sick of being treated like shit and feel like unleashing that on Tony. You don’t have Ashton Sullivan as your best friend your entire life and some of her not rub off on you. Tony may just deserve the wrath of all the cheaters before him. Just as I have this thought Carrie Underwood comes across the speakers and a smile takes over my face. I don’t think I have it in me to actually cause damage to his car, but I can fantasize about it.
I look up at Ash and wink as I take the shot glass and let the liquid goodness slide down my throat. She just shakes her head at me and walks back to the other end of the bar while she laughs.
I begin peeling the label off my beer as I have the same conversation I have had with myself every time I’m in this position. I don’t need to ask the reasons my boyfriend picker is broken, I know. I’ve always known. Since I was five years old and fell off the swings on the playground and a handsome brown-eyed boy helped me up out of the sand.
Bentley James Sullivan.
The man of my dreams.
My best friend’s brother.