Seven Years Ago
“Can’t you just stick it in and grunt a few times?”
Beer erupts out of Theo’s mouth like a geyser, spattering all over my tank top, soaking through to my braless boobs. I’d like to say this kind of thing never happens to me but it happens rather often when you are best friends with an athlete. Athletes love to project shit from their mouths, like a rite of passage or something. Spit. Beer. Sunflower seeds. You name it.
Swiping away the remnants of foam, I scold him. “Theo, what have I said about—” Shit, is he choking?
I panic as violent coughs wrack his extremely toned chest. For God’s sake, I need him alive!
Reaching out, I do the only thing I can think of—I raise his arm like a little kid. Those deep, navy-stained eyes grow wide as he stares at me in horror. It’s clear he fears for his life. Or, he’s concerned the University of Georgia made a mistake accepting my med school application this fall. I don’t think arm raising is considered the proper medical procedure for strangling.
After a tense few seconds, he barks out a few more coughs and pulls his arm from mine. Since the immediate threat of death has lessened, I let him go, keeping my trained medical eye on his coloring. Just kidding, I wanna be prepared, so I move to the other end of the couch, out of the way in case he needs to hack something up.
He blinks, silently judging me from his corner of the sofa in the small two-bedroom apartment we’ve shared all four years of college. I’m braced for anything. A lecture? A pillow to the face? Hey, you never know in this friendship, we’re some violent motherfuckers. Instead, he goes the mature route, clearing his throat one last time before cocking his left brow up in amusement.
“No, Anniston. I cannot just stick it in and grunt as you so eloquently requested. That’s not how it works.”
Eh. It never hurts to ask. You never know what kind of truths you can uncover if you ask the right question.
“What about that whole just-the-tip deal, huh? I mean, that’s a thing, right? Obviously, I don’t know from experience, but I’ve watched enough porn.”
His lips tip up at the corners. I can tell he’s about to pop off some smart-ass comment about my lack of knowledge in this department.
“Anniston McCallister, apart from what you may think, Fifty Shades of Grey is not considered porn.”
“Ok, maybe it isn’t, but you can’t tell me at all those frat parties we go to, guys are giving girls the full making love treatment. No, they are sticking in their peckers midway with a few quick pumps in a filthy bathroom before coming their little hearts out. It doesn’t work that way, my ass…”
Yeah, I know how shit goes down. Don’t even try and play me, Von Bremen.
The stupid grin on his face nearly breaks my stride. He’s enjoying my little rant. And he probably likes that I said “peckers.” Either way, his cute little smile will not distract me from my mission.
I need a Plan B just in case this conversation goes absolutely nowhere. And that’s a distinct possibility at the moment. Plan B could be… it doesn’t even matter because I am determined to get Von Bremen’s compliance with Plan A. I’m not saying I will rape the poor guy, but I would be willing to tie him down a little.
Guys like kink, right?
Regardless, I’m not taking no for an answer.
If he can bang the whole student body, he can bang me.
It’s not like I’m asking for a deep conversation as we take a long, romantic stroll on the beach. I’m not even asking him to buy me dinner. Wait, that’s not true. We already planned on grabbing dinner, and it’s his turn to pay. He’s not weaseling out of that one.
“I’m sure you can find a guy willing to fulfill—” he eyes my wet shirt, paying close attention to the damp spot right below my nipple, “your needs. Why me?”
His half-ass rejection stings. Fuck you, hormones. Okay, so maybe it can’t all be blamed on hormones. I might have ulterior motives.
I am certain I’ve loved Theo Von Bremen since middle school. His quick wit and asshole personality appealed to me like chocolate and sweatpants on a Friday night. We became fast friends, but anything further was too complicated.
So, I took a back seat and cherished being his friend. He dated. I dated. He fucked. I didn’t.
I leap off the couch, my arms stretched wide, ready to plead my case. “It’s not like I haven’t given this a lot of thought, I have!” My voice is an octave higher than normal. “I wanted to fall in love, wanted my boyfriend to take me on a blanket under the stars. I’ve had the whole scene planned out since I was old enough to realize what an orgasm was. But the reality is, it didn’t happen for me.”
“Anniston.”
I hold my palms up to silence him so I can get this last bit out. “Don’t get me wrong, I had offers; I’m not a total shrew. But I didn’t want to give it up to some random guy on a quick drunken poke. I have standards.”
Standards that no man measures up to, not even Theodore Von Bremen. But Von Bremen and I share a strange kind of love, and it will mean something if he’s the one to take my virginity. Well, unless it fucks up our relationship and costs me my one and only close friend.
I’m desperate, though! I don’t want to go off to med school a virgin.
Theo might be my slutty wingman, but I trust him and if anyone is going to pop my cherry, I want it to be him. At least when I look back on this deal with the devil, I’ll remember that I loved him, even if I have to lie and say it’s just as friends.
I flop back on the couch, making no effort to keep my boobs from bouncing with the action. So far, the only win for me in this conversation is that Theo’s eyes have glazed over, which means he’s being a total perv and thinking about fucking me right now. Yeah, baby!
After a moment, though, reality washes over him and he immediately bites his nails, a gross habit I wish he would stop. I can’t even fathom all the places those fingers have been. But I guess when you’re used to rubbing them in the dirt, licking the tips before slinging a baseball, what harm are germs, anyways?
I glare at his offending thumb, wedged deep between perfect white teeth. A terse chin jerk is all the communication I need after ten years of friendship to relay my revulsion. He doesn’t give a shit though. He moves to the second finger while raising the third in a salute, just for me. Fucker.
I pick at the lace of my shorts as an uncomfortable silence descends around us. I’m trying desperately to think of how I can convince him, but the cute little frown he’s sporting nearly reaches that one dimple that’s damn near lickable… My fingers freeze. I could pin him down, plunge my tongue deep into that dent, make him moan in approval.
What the hell? Get ahold of yourself. Focus! You want him to agree to this proposition, not scare him off by licking his dimple like some kind of weirdo.
I get back to picking at my raggedy shorts, ashamed to be fantasizing about my bestie. Damn him. And damn these shorts I’ve washed so many times the lace resembles a snarled Q-tip. I should buy new ones, but I’m cheap about clothes. I spend most of my time in a sports bra and shorts, and I refuse to pay sixty bucks for something I am going to freaking sleep in. Hello! Who would see that shit? I’ll tell you. Me! Just me. No one curls up behind me, spoons my freshly shaven legs and slips my tacky sleep shorts down my thighs.
Well, unless Theo gets shit-faced. Then he’s terrified a clown is lurking under his bed ready to grab his ankles and pull him under for a little freaky-deaky. Okay, I might have hidden under the bed once or twice as a joke.
What are friends for anyway?
Long story short, I look like shit run over by the shit train, and booted off at the Shit Station. But here I sit, asking my closest friend since sixth grade to deflower me before this weekend.
Obviously, I haven’t thought this through. If I had, I would have at least brushed the tangles out of my hair instead of twisting it into a messy bun, which fell to the side of my head about two hours ago due to Theo’s immaturity. That badass tore his need-to-win ego to shreds in a wrestling match for the remote—I won.
The silence is maddening as I prepare to pull out all the stops. He doesn’t need this long to think it through. I conjure visions of sad puppies to moisten my eyes. On cue, my lip trembles into a well-practiced pout. I blink, slowly drawing attention to the almost-tears and let my naturally long eyelashes take over.
With as much seduction as I can muster for my longtime friend, I lift my gaze to meet his pinched one. He’s considering it. He just needs a little push in the right direction.
“Please, Teddy.” My plea is dripping in sweet southern charm.
When he springs from the couch, tugging at his dark wavy locks in agitation, I know I have him. “Fuck me, Ans.”
“Yes, Theo, that’s the plan. It won’t take long. We can squeeze it in between your workout and dinner with the team.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. Like it’s a game of Twister. My fake confidence betrays me as my hand twitches with nerves. Before he can see it, I tuck it under my leg, controlling my breaths to keep my fear contained. If he knows I’m afraid, he will back out, no questions asked.
“Be serious, Anniston.” His face turns red; his expression would scald a less determined woman.
“I am.” I’ll take him any way I can get him. I know that makes me seem like a loser, but if you could see the abs on this boy, you would beg him, too.
All jokes aside, Theo is moving to Washington, D.C. tomorrow. Drafted to the Nationals major league baseball team his freshman year of college, he waited to finish his degree before he signed. Now that he has, he’s scheduled to leave for the eastern side of the country at five a.m.
This is my only chance to keep a piece of him.
Once millions of fans get a peek at that cocky smile and chiseled arms, they won’t even care about his charming southern accent, the thick chestnut waves that I find most alluring about him. No, when fans get their hands on Theo Von Bremen, our special friendship will be over. Judge me all you want, but I’m getting a piece of him come hell or high water.
“I’m serious. You’re the only one I trust to do it.” My voice is resigned as I take one more shot at convincing him.
Stopping mid-pace, his finger slips from his mouth in shock. He’s hesitant in his steps back to the couch, almost as if he’s afraid to get close to me. “Are you sure?” That damn finger goes back to his mouth.
I reach up and swat it down because… fuck! It’s throwing me off my game. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I want it to be with you.”
His eyes squeeze shut as if it causes him physical pain to even discuss this. It’s not helping my confidence level.
Sucking in a choppy breath, his eyes open, set with resolution. “Fine. I’ll do it, but I want to go on record now and say that I think this is a very bad idea.”
I leap toward him as glee shoots through me, catching him off guard with a tackle that nearly topples us over the side of the sofa. With way too much excitement for a friend, I acknowledge his concern with a firm squeeze of one of his delicious butt cheeks. “Noted!”
“So, Von Bremen, how’s it feel to be a big leaguer now?”
I hate Toby. He is so sweet, but dammit, he rakes on my last nerve with his ass-kissing.
We’ve been at Mae’s, a little hole-in-the-wall diner, for the last hour enduring ass-kiss after ass-kiss. Everyone wants to get in good with Theo before he goes off to the big leagues this weekend.
“It feels kinda scary, actually.”
Toby leans forward, his elbows propped on the table like he’s dying to reach out and grab Theo’s hand. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but he looks super invested in the conversation at the moment. “Why’s that? Seems like you would be pumped to get out there and show those punks how it’s done.”
Callum, Theo’s third baseman, rolls his eyes, “Toby, have you seen the Nationals’ lineup? They went to the playoffs for fuck’s sake!”
Callum’s brother, Carter, steps in after that and attempts to explain to Toby (using smaller, less aggressive words) that Theo will be low on the totem pole when he gets to the team. They do not need anyone to “show them how it’s done.”
“I’ll go to their AAA team until they have a spot open on the roster.” Theo corrects them with a shrug of his shoulders, acting like he isn’t stressed about pitching for a title-winning team—a team that shelled out enough money to feed a small country to acquire him.
I’m not worried though; Von Bremen doesn’t fail at anything. I’m confident he’ll amaze and astound, moving through their AAA club quickly.
Callum scoots closer to the table like he’s about to tell a juicy secret, “Dude, I heard they haze the shit out of rookies.”
Theo looks at Brody, his catcher, who also happens to be going with him to the Nationals. They both grin devilishly. “I think we can handle a little hazing.”
No doubt. Epic pranks and hazing were their trademarks at Georgia Tech. Not that I saw it first-hand. I attended Mercer. Since we don’t go to the same college, Theo and I share an apartment off campus in-between the two schools in Atlanta. The commute through downtown is a bitch, but it’s worth it to stay together.
“What about you, Anniston? Will you be going with him?” Damn Toby and his infinite questions tonight.
The table quiets as they all stare, waiting for my answer. And it’s this exact question, which made the decision to stay behind in Madison difficult in the first place. Theo and I battled over it for months. He wanted me to go to Washington and finish med school there, but I needed to do this on my own. Alone. Theo and I have been attached at the hip since middle school. It’s not a bad thing, but it felt like the right time to branch off and do my own thing. Theo is all I have left here in Georgia—ever since my grandparents’ death four years ago. When he moves to Washington tomorrow, I’ll be moving back home to Madison, moving into my grandparents’ abandoned plantation, attending the University of Georgia in the fall.
I chance a look at Theo, silently begging for help in answering Toby’s question. He only shrugs, absently picking the label off his beer bottle. His constant fidgeting is a well-known effect of his ADHD. It used to annoy me that he was always in motion but I’ve grown used to it over the years. Now, it hardly registers. Except, like now, when I’m frustrated and want to smack that bottle clear out of his grip.
I take a small sip of my beer, offering Toby a smile that pretty much says this is none of your damn business. “No. I’m not. I’m moving back home over the summer.”
I swallow a few more sips, ignoring the curious expressions of Theo’s teammates at this shocking revelation.
“Yo!” Brody interrupts, cutting the tension at the table. “I forgot to tell y’all about this yoga instructor I bagged this past weekend!”
The guys’ eyes light up at the mere mention of bagging anything, effectively halting any further questions about mine and Theo’s living arrangements.
“Fucked her in a cabinet!”
“No way! A cabinet?”
“Yeah, dude, I crouched down like I was catching a knuckle ball.” Brody stands, demonstrating the squat and hip movement he used. “Plowed her right there in the dorm kitchen!”
Everyone at the table laughs hysterically, egging him on and creating a flurry of “this one time” tales that I highly doubt happened to the majority of them.
I’m only half listening to all the random fuck stories they over-share when I decide enough is enough. I’m ready to go. I poke Theo in the ribs, our universal sign for: this blows, let’s go.
He catches my finger, pulling my whole hand to his lap, intertwining his fingers with mine. His thumb begins to rub soft circles over my arm, creating tingling sensations that radiate right into my heart. I love when he does this. I’m going to miss it when he’s gone when he’s rubbing some other girl’s arm.
I lean closer, my shoulder against his as he chimes in here and there to Brody and the rest of the guys. The heat of his body relaxes me so much that I could curl up like a cat and purr my approval of his petting.
Part of me is excited he agreed to take my virginity tonight and another part of me feels like a damn fool for even considering it. It seems fitting, though, that our last night together be memorable. It’s not like we were going to do anything big. We planned on staying up late into the wee hours of the morning, playing drinking games to horror movies until it was time for him to catch his plane. Irresponsibility at its finest. Always the best way to start off a new job.
My hand eases to his thigh, feeling the softness of his jeans, the smell of his Irish Spring soap seeping through the fabric. I wiggle closer, daydreaming about how he kisses the top of my head when I fall asleep watching his game footage; the way he grins ear to ear when I argue with the ref over a bad call. I’m going to miss coaching him from the sidelines, cheering him on from the bleachers. Tomorrow, our Saturday practices will officially be over.
Basking in my sorrow, I trace patterns on his faded denim, memorizing the way they hug his muscular thighs, almost like they were designed just for him. Farther up, my fingers wander as the hypnotic motion of his hand works me into a trance. The cadence of his voice only depresses me more as I remember I’ll no longer wake up to his sexy groans as he stumbles to the kitchen in search of coffee, or the pep talks he gives himself in the shower on game days.
More and more, my hand drifts upward until his deep timbre starts to stumble and stutter.
Voice strained, he answers Callum about some teacher he thought was single. Wonder what’s got him so worked up? Ms. James isn’t that hot. Getting back to my ministrations on his thigh, I realize my fingers are an inch from his dick. I test the water and walk them up a couple of steps.
The hand rubbing my arm stops moving entirely as his body goes stiff with tension. I gaze down, noticing the tent that has now pitched in his jeans.
I don’t know what makes me do what I do next.
Maybe it’s the beer? Maybe it’s because it’s our last night together? Or maybe it’s because I have nothing left to lose. But before I overthink it, I eat up that last inch of space and cup his manhood, caressing it with the entirety of my hand.
Theo jerks, his breath hissing as he tries to compose himself before the guys take notice. Massaging the fullness to a hardened state, his thick length pulses in my palm as I begin to stroke up and down at a leisurely pace.
“So, whatcha think, man? Should I go for it? I’m graduating…no longer a student.”
My lips quirk in an innocent smile as Theo shifts away from the friction I’m creating. Increasing my tempo, my grip becomes firmer, my strokes more raw and erotic.
“Uh…I—” His hips grind into my hand instinctively as he struggles to speak clearly. “Ye—Yeah. Go for it, man.”
He springs from the booth, completely unhinged. “We gotta go.”
Smiling like an idiot when he pulls me from the booth, Theo uses me as a shield while he discretely adjusts himself. The guys say their goodbyes with claps on the back and an occasional hug (yes, it was Toby) before Theo yanks my ass out of the diner, damn near dislocating my arm.
We barrel into the car like two thieves on a mission. I’m giggly by the time I secure my seatbelt.
“Whew! It’s good to be out of there. The heat in that place made me fidgety. Did it make you hot too?” My smartass comment is laced with innuendoes and has the effect I intended.
Theo turns in his seat, his face flushed, pupils dilated. Tossing his hat on the dash, he rakes a hand through his flattened hair. “I hope you’re ready for a good fucking.”
He palms his crotch, showing me what I did.
My mouth goes slack as I swallow down the knot that’s suddenly taking up residence in my throat. Am I ready for a good fucking? I’m not sure now, but I nod anyway.
He chuckles at my lack of social skills and flips his hat back on, rotating it backward to show off those midnight eyes. Without another word, he guns his ‘67 Mustang out of the diner parking lot and onto the narrow road that leads to an endless maze of concrete junctions that have the power to get you lost with one wrong lane change.
We drive in silence for over an hour, the area becoming familiar to me. I already know where he’s taking me, though I haven’t been out here in four years. I’m not sure how I feel about coming here now, but apparently it’s important to him, so I go without complaint.
The driveway is overgrown with vines when we pull in. It’s obvious that no one has been here since they died my senior year of high school. The sharp pain I’ve learned to ignore jabs at my heart as we weave down the abandoned drive. My grandparents’ plantation house stands defiant in the center of hundreds of overgrown acres. The barn Theo and I used to play hide-and-seek in is barely visible behind the tall hay stalks that sway in the breeze.
Theo nudges me with his elbow. “You ready for this?”
I know if I were to say no, he would turn this car around and never speak of it. That’s the type of friendship we have. So, it’s not like I feel pressured to do this. I want to, even if I’m going to regret it, which is a distinct possibility.
“This old place has such classic beauty. Bittersweet memories,” I say absently. Shrugging my shoulder, I confirm my consent by squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s blow this friendship all to hell.” I’m chuckling at my own joke until Theo’s hand grows tense under mine. “I’m kidding,” I backtrack. I don’t want to make this more awkward. I give him a light shake and smile in the hope he will let it go.
He gives me a long look, those eyes conveying something I can’t read. Before I can figure it out or ask any questions, he pops the trunk and hops out.
The passenger door groans, breaking the tense silence as I open the door to follow. “I realize this is a classic, Theo, but damn, WD-40 it at least.” The air is dank and humid when I step out onto the grass. Georgia heat is killer this time of year. Too bad I didn’t think of this in the fall. Getting bitten by mosquitoes isn’t something I am looking forward to. I head to the trunk where Theo is piling blankets into his worn-out gym bag. “Need any help?”
He smirks, giving me that little asshole lip-tip he does when I say something ridiculous. “I got it.”
After he walks away, I slam the trunk and jog to catch up. He bypasses the house, making me curious as to what he has in mind for my devirginization. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Keep up. I don’t want a coyote dragging you off.”
“That’s silly. A coyote? I haven’t seen one of those in ages—” Howling yips sound in the distance, and I quicken my pace as I flank his ass. We bypass the barn, heading around the back, toward the pond. Theo keeps a brisk pace, not bothering to watch where he’s walking. I think we both know this place so well it wouldn’t make a difference if it were pitch dark instead of half lit by the moon.
Finally, we come to a stop feet from the pond. I help spread the blankets along the shore, the shaking of my hands going to high speed.
“You nervous?”
I glance at my hands, then back at Theo’s worried face and let out a sigh. “Yeah, a little.”
A muscle twitches in his cheek as he only nods in return. Don’t think I missed that he didn’t disclose whether he was nervous. He kneels, shifting his knee under him, appearing unaffected by what we’re about to do.
I freeze in fight-or-flight mode, weighing heavily my decision whether to lower myself to the blanket.
It feels like five minutes pass before he sighs, patting the blanket next to him. “This was your idea. Are you backing out?”
“Fuck no, I’m not backing out. I’m just… savoring the moment.” His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me for a second.
Come on, Ans. You can do this. Pull on, or off rather, your big girl panties and fuck Theo. Right here, under the stars like you wanted. Like he knew you wanted.
Damn you, Theo, for being so damn perfect. Damn you for being my best fucking friend.
The cicadas snap their tiny cymbals as they orchestrate the background music for our little sexcapade. Their annoying buzz used to aggravate me, but in my current situation, it’s a welcome distraction. Swallowing my nerves, I crouch down and scoot next to the man who is about to take my virginity.
“I’m not backing out, asshole. I was just debating if I should have brought more condoms with me. We could layer them, you know, so the girth will be fuller.” My eyebrows jump up and down like some kind of cartoon villain. “I want to make sure you actually tear through the hymen.”
I’m amused, grinning like a fool at his insulted expression. It feels good to break the ice and not act so weird with each other.
“I assure you, I’ll break the hymen. Who says hymen, anyway?” He shoves me away in a playful gesture as he roots through his gym bag, tossing a handful of condoms between us. For a moment, we both just stare at them.
“This is going hurt,” he admits with his head still bowed.
I’m aware. From what I’ve seen of his dick—what? We live together. It’s totally normal—it’s going to sting like a bitch; never mind the emotional rollercoaster I’ll endure when he gets on that plane tomorrow. But I’m determined to follow through with this horrific mistake, even if it kills me.
I pull him close, burying my embarrassed face in his chest. “I’m prepared.” The lie falls easily from my lips.
With unsteady hands, he sweeps my hair to the side. “I’m going to take my clothes off now.”
Ok, so it’s going to be awkward, no big deal. I can deal with awkward. I swallow thick, and nod my head like an idiot. Theo rises onto his knees, peels off his shirt and tosses it off the blanket with finesse only a pitcher possesses. When he’s working on the button of his jeans, I stop him.
“Let me.”
Without answering, he moves his hands, extending his arms out wide. I fumble a bit before successfully popping it through the hole. I ease his zipper down, careful not to catch it on anything. Theo is known to be commando at times. Now, though, red boxer briefs peak out from beneath the denim.
“I need you to stand,” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek. Soundlessly, he does. Inch by inch I work the damp material down. It sticks in a few places, but after a few aggressive tugs, I get them all the way off, revealing his perfect athletic thighs. Thank you, Coach Anderson, for mandatory gym days.
It’s too quiet when he reaches for my shirt. Where are you now, stupid cicadas? His expert fingers remove my clothes piece by piece in seconds flat. Before I know it, I’m beneath him staring into hungry eyes that scream this is a bad idea, but I am going to enjoy every minute of it.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathes, almost pleading.
No, we’re doing this.
I pull him closer, my answer unspoken. His ribs expand with harsh breaths as his callused hand grips my thigh, gently opening me to cradle his narrow hips. The weight of his body coaxes me down onto the blanket, against the soft cotton.
I’m aware of everything, the cicadas, the slight breeze, the blades of grass struggling to poke through the flowered blanket.
I allow myself to let my guard down, taking a moment to catalog every memory of this boy, this man who’s always held my heart. His breathing becomes choppy, nerves evident in the strain of his shoulders. I want to comfort him, tell him that everything will be fine, but the truth is, it won’t be.
This will change everything.
I kiss the inside of his forearm, braced next to my head. “I’ll be okay,” I assure him with false bravado.
Those beautiful lips turn down in a frown before they press against mine. The kiss is soft, gentle even. He’s careful, his tongue hesitant as he slips it inside, testing the boundaries of our friendship. In seconds, we build friction as our bodies take over, grinding against one another in a sinful dance.
With more force, he begins to devour me like a decadent dessert he’s forbidden to have. My every moan, every sigh is lapped up with rushed fury, like this kiss is our last.
It probably will be. First and last.
Deep in this precious moment, he takes me, pushing in without hesitation. My whimpers of pain escape, right into his awaiting mouth as he breaches my barrier, tearing through.
In this moment, we are one.
In this moment, he is mine.
I’m pulling on my shirt when Theo breaks the silence. “So, that was good. You’re okay, right? I didn’t hurt you?” He fidgets with his hem, his eyes roaming from my face to my sandals.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?”
He shrugs, pacing away. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Good.” I’m folding our blanket, choosing to ignore the red stain that mocks me, when Theo’s phone rings.
“Yeah. Oh, hey. Yeah, yeah, Vanessa. I remember. No, no, I’m not busy.” He glances my way nervously.
Vanessa, longtime cheerleader of every sport imaginable. Her dark hair and exotic eyes make her irresistible to every dick in a thirty-mile radius. She’s always been nice to me, but only to get close to Theo. I’m no threat to Theo’s fan girls. They know I live in the friend zone.
Theo continues pacing and I wonder if he really remembers who she is.
“Yeah, sure. Give me about an hour and I’ll be over.”
Deep breath. You knew this would happen. Do not act like a lunatic. You said so yourself, it was just a fuck, pop your cherry and be done.
But, now it doesn’t really feel that way. Now, I feel used, discarded.
Theo must have hung up with his whore because next thing I know he’s taking the wadded-up blanket from my hand. “You ready?”
All I can do is nod so the tears don’t fall.
“You’re okay with me hanging out with Vanessa, right? I mean, this,” he motions between him and me, “didn’t change anything, right?”
He’s right. I said it would be no big deal and it isn’t… sort of. I just need a minute to wrap my head around it, is all.
With a fake smile that I hope is hard to make out in the dark, I nod, choking back tears. “Absolutely not. We’re good.”
He smiles, bringing me in for a hug. “Thank fuck.”
I pull away quickly, unable to be close to him for one more second. It’s not his fault, he can’t help it he’s a whore, but still… right after we…
Get it together, Ans.
Theo bumps my shoulder, almost pushing me to the ground. “High five it up here for breaking that hymen!” He holds his stupid hand up for me to return his five.
Would it be tacky if I punched him in the face instead? Yeah? Whatever, five it is. I smack it with less enthusiasm than he’s expecting. He frowns for a minute, his steady gaze on mine. “We’re still friends, right?”
“Yes, Theo. Stop being such a chick about it.”
I hustle toward the car. I need to get out of here now. One more moment staring at those puppy dog eyes and I will break down and cry. No one needs to see that.
Theo’s footsteps pound behind me as he jogs to catch up. “Damn right we are! Friends with benefits!”
Anger burns in my chest, and at the same time, I’m glad he’s so giddy about it. Maybe I will be too once I pull my heart out of my ass. And maybe after a few shots of liquor, I’ll feel more like a woman and less like a little girl whose heart was just shattered under the stars.
Maybe one day I will be able to be his friend with benefits.
Maybe one day he’ll be mine.
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