“You have to wear that for Jett tonight,” Hazel says back at the apartment. We’d gone shopping with the girls and I’d picked up a mint lace tank top with matching boy shorts. It was better than the crazy leather outfit that they’d tried to get me in. Shudder.
“Maybe I will and maybe I will,” I say with a wink.
“You’ll have to tell me how he likes it. I want details. You’ve been very stingy with details about your sex life, which either means you’re into something weird and you don’t want to tell me, or it’s not that great.” Or, I could just want to keep it private? Why isn’t that an option?
“It’s not either. Maybe I just don’t feel like sharing something that’s so intimate and it’s just between two people.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“That means it’s bad. Is he too small? Does he finish too fast? Is his thing crooked?” I have no knowledge of any of these things. Except for maybe the first. From having his, um, member, pressed into my leg on several occasions, I know that it is not small. I haven’t had a whole lot of penis experience, but I know it’s not small. Actually, It feels kind of terrifyingly big. I’m glad I don’t have to fit it inside me. God bless the lucky girl who gets it.
That sounds so weird.
I’m also pretty sure about the crooked part. I think I would have felt that as well.
“There is nothing wrong with his equipment or his performance. He’s fine. We’re fine. I am satisfied.” Actually, since I’ve spent so much time with Jett and he gets me . . . riled up, for lack of a better term, I’ve been kind of pent up in that area.
I steal my time in the shower when I can, but my poor vibrator has been very neglected of late. I hid it under my bed in the very, very back so unless he actually dives under my bed and searches, Jett won’t find it. That would be a lovely and awkward conversation that I really don’t want to have.
“If you say so,” she sing-songs. Whatever. My Fake sex life is none of her business.
“So what about yours? Found anyone you want to bang yet?” I’ve got my fingers crossed she’s not going to say “Javier.”
Rolling her eyes, she goes to the coffeemaker and puts a new filter in.
“Now that you’ve had sex, you can understand how much it sucks when you don’t have it. I swear, I’m going to go crazy and kill someone if I don’t get laid soon.” She puts a new filter in and then fills the water container up.
“Well babe, I can’t help you. I don’t think the roommate and friend requirements go that far.”
She gives me a look.
“I would never ask you to do that. I don’t swing that way.”
Neither do I.
“Just take care of it yourself.” That’s what I have to do. Or what I used to do before I had a boyfriend . . .
“It’s not as good. I need another person. I need visual stimulation.” Well she could always watch porn, but I know she’s just going to come up with another excuse.
“So why don’t you go out and do something about it, if it’s such an issue for you?” I’m kind of tired of her whining about it. But at the same time, I don’t want to see a parade of losers in and out of the apartment. It’s kind of a dilemma.
“Maybe I will.” That sounds like both a threat and a challenge. Great. I ignore the comment because I really don’t want to keep talking about this, so I mumble something about homework. I do actually have to do some, so I head to my room and turn my music up and throw myself into writing a paper. Hazel brings me some coffee with nutmeg and cinnamon later, and I’m grateful for it.
The time between now and when I get to see Jett again goes too slow, and I’m done with my paper with an hour to spare. I could start something else, but I really want to get out of the apartment.
An idea strikes me so I grab my keys and dash out to my car and drive back to the mall. Right next to it are a few stores that cater exclusively to college students, including a music store-slash-coffeehouse that also hosts open mic nights and afternoons. Man, add beer to that and it attracts pretentious hipster college students quicker than you could say, “I liked it before it was cool.” I tend to avoid it, but there’s something I need, so I braved throng of people who have five hundred dollar phones pontificating about the water shortage in third world countries and keep my head down as I head for the CD section.
There isn’t anything romantic about giving someone an iTunes gift card, so I flip through the CDs until I find what I want. I get out of there as quick as I can and then head back to school. It takes forever to find a parking spot, and then I have to wrap my present with what I have in my car, which is either a Dunkin’ Donuts bag or a cell phone bill. I choose the former and then head to the coffee shop in the library to get both of us coffee and baked goods. They have cannolis; JACKPOT. I get six of them, because I’m definitely going to want at least three, and if I have three, it only seems fair to give three to Jett. Or maybe I’ll eat four and Jett will get two.
Okay, I eat one two seconds after I check out, so there are only five left. Then I have to eat another to make it even. Crap, time to meet Jett.
“You have something on your face,” Jett says even before I get a word in. Crap. Busted with cannoli all over my face. I wipe, but he shakes his head.
“You missed. Here.” He steps close to me and raises his hand to wipe away the cream from the cannoli (eww, I can’t help but make that sexual) and then his tongue darts out and gets it instead. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my mouth as he smiles at my shock, gives me a quick peck and then says, “I hope that was frosting or something.”
“Well, you should have asked before you licked my face, idiot,” I say, sounding breathless.
“Maybe I should have. Should we add that to the list? No licking of the Fake Girlfriend’s face unless you ask her what is on her face first?”
“I think that’s a plan. Hi.” I pop up on my tiptoes and kiss him again. Can’t resist.
“Hi,” he says, holding my face and stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. Boy, I am glad to see him. The feeling seems mutual.
“I got you something,” I say, rustling the Dunkin’ Donuts bag with the CD in it. My other hand has the bag with the cannolis and so forth. I had to set the coffee cups down on the table next to me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, letting go of my face and backing up so I can give him the bag. I sit down and pull out another cannoli.
He pulls out the CD and turns it around. It’s Leaving Through The Window from Something Corporate. I noticed how much he liked them when they were on the radio and then he mentioned them again when he told me about his family.
“I figured you should be able to listen to freedom. Even if freedom sometimes sounds a little emo.” He stares at the CD and I can’t read his face. Uh oh.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. I start eating my cannoli, waiting for him to emote.
“You’re welcome,” I say with my mouth full before grabbing a napkin. “It’s not much, but I just thought you should have it, even if you already do.”
“This is . . . really special, Shannon. I love it.” He looks up from the CD and gives me such a heart-shattering smile I almost can’t stand it.
“You really like it?”
“I do. I wish my car had a CD player.”
That’s right. I forgot the thing he calls a car doesn’t have one of those. It doesn’t even have a tape deck, that’s how awesome it is.
“You really need to get a new car, and not just to play that one CD,” I say, finishing my cannoli as Jett puts the CD down and starts sipping his coffee.
“Can’t afford it. When my parents cut me off, they really cut me off. If I didn’t get scholarships, or have a lot of help from Javi and his family, I would be living in a box on the street.” God, I can’t imagine. He’s so young to have to deal with shit like that. Yes, I deal with a similar situation, but at least if I had a real crisis, my parents would bail me out. My brother would give me some of his pot money, and mom would offer to get me a job at whatever fast food joint or restaurant she’s currently working at, and Dad would tell me that’s what I get for going to college and not getting a job right out of school before he would start hiding dollar bills in my purse, or in my jeans pockets.
“You wouldn’t have to live in a box on the street. I wouldn’t let you. You could just move in with me.” As soon as I say it, I realize it’s true. He’s practically living with me already, so it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Except he’d have no place for his stuff. That would be an issue.
“Well, barring any disaster with Javi, we won’t have to think about it.” He smiles, but it doesn’t feel genuine.
“So I think we should fight tonight,” he says after I hand him a cannoli. Ugh, I was afraid of that. For some reason, Javier has hatched this plan that we should all go over to his and Jett’s apartment and have a big lovely non-family dinner.
I think this is just an excuse to grill me in front of Jett. Or maybe hit on Hazel. Or maybe get someone to make him a home-cooked meal, since I have “volunteered” to cook. I kind of have to since they’re hosting it at their house, so I feel obligated. Sigh.
It’s only going to be me, Jett, Javier and Hazel, but I am adamant that it is NOT a double date and Hazel agrees. She doesn’t date. Like, ever. Her feeling is that dating is serious, that you use it to get to know your future mate, and she’s not even close to doing that, so for right now she’s just “being young and having fun.” I do not judge.
I’ve decided to make lemon garlic tortellini with chicken, a Caesar salad and an éclair cake for desert. Javier better like it, because that’s the best that he’s getting. Jett has also agreed to help, even though he said he has never cooked tortellini in his life. At least he’s willing to try.
“That would probably be a good idea,” I say as my heart twinges in despair. “It will be broadcast to all my friends by the time we’re finished saying ‘Fine!’” If there is one thing you can count on Hazel for, it’s spreading relationship drama around to all our other friends, so they can discuss it and decide what to do about it and how to intervene and somehow make it better, while also making it worse. She means well. I think.
“So what should we fight about?” he says.
Okay, so despite not wanting to fight, I’ve actually made a list of topics we could fight about, and I bring it out of my bag. I work on it whenever I have in between time, or I’m insanely bored in class.
“You have a list?”
“Well, we did make a list when we started this. I thought we should end it with a list. Okay, first: you don’t like my hair.” Yeah, I know it’s lame.
“But I love your hair.”
“Two: we disagree on whether women belong in the kitchen.”
Jett puts his hands up as if I’ve held a gun to his head.
“Whoa. I am not touching that. There is no way I can say the right thing.”
“Three: you think I’m fat.” This one makes him burst out laughing. Not sure what’s so funny about it. I glare at him over the list.
“And that is funny because?”
“Because I would never, ever, call you, or any woman, fat. Not even if she was. That’s the first rule of dealing with any woman. Besides, it’s an asshole thing to do. So no, what’s the next one?”
I grab another cannoli. Who knew we were going to disagree about what to fight about?
“Four: You don’t like it when I talk in my sleep.”
“But you don’t talk in your sleep.”
“I know that, but I might. And you could have a problem with it. And then I can freak out and then it can be one of those things that starts small and explodes into something else and we just start yelling random things and boom. Fight.”
It’s been my experience that fights almost always start with something small that is a symptom of something larger that we just don’t want to talk about.
“Okay, I think I can go with that one. What else did you have?” I hand over the list and we both laugh about it for a while as we finish the cannolis and then the rest of the stuff that I’d bought.
“You have too much time on your hands, Shan,” he says, handing the list back to me.
“Well, we can’t spend all our free time taking over the internet and making paper masterpieces.” I toss a balled-up napkin at him, and he ducks.
“Oh, I was also thinking about something else. If we fight then that means you don’t get to stay tonight.” Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. I can’t sleep alone! Not that I didn’t spend nearly twenty-one years of my life sleeping alone, but I didn’t know what I was missing.
“Or, maybe I can wait until Javi is asleep and then sneak over, and then out in the morning before Hazel gets up.” Oh, bless him.
“Oh, OR, you could come over and we could make up during the night. If you know what I mean.” I’m pretty sure he does.
“Yes. That works perfectly. Okay, it’s on. Listen, I have to get back to work, but I will see you in two hours? Are you sure you don’t need me to get anything?”
“No, no. I’ve got it. Hazel’s going shopping with me and then the both of us will be over. Fun times,” I say with both thumbs raised.
“Exactly,” he says as he gets up and gives me a kiss. “Thanks for the cannolis, princess.” Rule breaker. I kiss him back and say goodbye.
I don’t know if I’m going to make it through this Fake Fight, but at least I have Jett coming over to “make up” afterwards to think about. That’s the only okay part of it. Besides, this will prepare me for the actual thing. Only then I won’t be able to crawl into bed with Jett on the same night.
Yeah, not going to think about that.