How You Know It Won’t Work:
He admits to kissing you because he felt bad
Twelve hours later, my swollen feet were propped up on the coffee table, with Netflix playing Gilmore Girls in the background as I dug through my pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Scooping out another piece of cookie dough, I wondered how the characters could eat as much as they did and never gain weight. I got up every morning before work to exercise and still looked like I could wipe out an entire Chinese buffet in an hour.
Closing shift at Wilkins Retail wouldn’t have been so bad if a group of girls hadn’t come into the fitting room with over twenty dresses, most which were too small for them. One girl got stuck in a romper. It took me over twenty minutes, two sticks of butter, and a can of PAM cooking spray for management to finally agree to let me cut her out of it.
Besides a few people breaking glasses, a child throwing up, and a toilet flooding the men’s bathroom, the six hours went by quickly.
What I couldn’t get past was the cocky blue-eyed mystery who crossed my mind first during my fifteen-minute break at work and then on my short drive from the store to my little two-bedroom apartment across town.
I didn’t let myself analyze it, because there was nothing to think about. He was hot, and I had eyes. Of course I would think about him. My ovaries wouldn’t let me forget.
Just as I was about to click the next episode, Mashed Potato, my fluffy white and grey speckled cat, hopped up onto the couch next to me. She headbutted my thigh, waiting for me to give her attention since I’d been gone all day. I rubbed between her ears, listening to her lawn mower purrs until she climbed into my lap and settled in.
“Good thing I wasn’t planning on going to bed anytime soon,” I murmured, shaking my head as she curled into a tight ball.
Mashed Potato, or Tater for short, was named by a little girl at the vet clinic when I brought Tater in after finding her cold and shivering by my door. When the little girl found out that I didn’t know her name, she informed me that it had to be something fun. I expected her to come up with Snow White or Mittens, but Mashed Potato were the first words out of her mouth. While I couldn’t understand the concept of a cat that wasn’t pure white being named after the food, I went with it. With a name like Paisley, I was in no place to judge.
So, Mashed Potato was the name I put on the paperwork when the veterinarian told me there was no chip ID, collar, or anything that indicated she was spoken for. Based on her weight, she’d been wandering the streets for a long time. Taking her in was the easiest choice I ever made and loving me was just as easy for her.
When my phone buzzed, I snapped out of memory lane and snatched up my cell.
“It’s eleven at night,” was my greeting when I picked up.
“You’re twenty-three, Pais. Eleven o’clock should be prime time for you. When I was your age—”
“You’re only thirty,” I cut Iris off. “Quit acting like you’re sixty and trying to live vicariously through me.”
She groaned. “But I have a husband and two kids. Living vicariously through you is all I have.”
I made a face. “You do realize how screwed that is knowing you’re trying to set me up with your brother, right?”
There was a brief pause of silence. “It’s not like I need details about your sex life with him. I just want you guys to have fun. You’re both alone, young, and sooo boring!”
Seconds ticked by before I replied. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Isn’t Caleb the brother who’s in the army and does all that traveling?”
“So?” she doubted. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry the guy. Just go out, get some drinks, something. It doesn’t have to be a lifelong commitment.”
I didn’t understand commitment. It seemed like settling for one single person for the rest of your life was a lot to promise somebody. But I also wasn’t comfortable living without even the tiniest commitment from someone I was with; monogamy, loyalty, someday maybe love.
My eyes narrowed at an old conversation from last season at the motel. “Wasn’t he the one who wanted to hire one of the housekeepers as a stripper when he got back from his post last year?”
“Aw, you do remember him!” she cooed.
I scoffed. “I remember him wanting to get one of us to take our clothes off for money.”
“He was looking for a good time.”
“You told him I’d be his five-dollar hooker!”
“I wouldn’t sell you for less than ten!” she informed me matter-of-factly. “And you told me you wanted to strip at least once in your life! It was the perfect opportunity.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong. I did want to experience what it was like to strip. It seemed oddly empowering to know what my curves could do to a man. Guys wanted to use my body all the time, and for once I wanted that power over them. To know they could look but not touch.
Except, I had two left feet and no rhythm or coordination. If I ever had the guts to take my clothes off in front of anyone, I’d probably trip and fall off the stage, injuring some poor guy in the crowd. Then I’d be paying them for their medical bills.
Mashed Potato must have noticed my growing irritation because she jumped off my lap and onto the corner of the couch, eyeing me like she was waiting for a bomb to go off.
“You told him I had tiny boobs!” I blurted.
She laughed. “Babe, you do have tiny boobs. And, if memory serves, I told him that you didn’t have the ‘biggest boobs’ and he said it didn’t matter, boobs were boobs.”
Iris didn’t understand the struggle because hers were twice the size of mine. The first thing that vanished when I first lost weight a year ago was my chest, not that I had a lot to offer before. My once-beloved C-cups could practically squeeze into A-cups now.
I rolled my eyes. “How considerate of him. Let’s be real. For some screwed up reason, you want me to hook up with him. And I’m sure after the stripper thing last year, he thinks I’m easy.”
“Um, hold up. First off, I just want you to get laid in general. It’s been way too long for you, and maybe you’ll be in a better mood if you had a big O.”
What Iris didn’t know was that I lied to her about having sex with Tyler Grayson my freshman year of college. In fact, it was the lack of sex that made us stop talking. Well, that and the fact I walked in on him screwing my old roommate. I believed his words were ‘I had to get it somewhere since you weren’t putting out.’ But I hadn’t wanted to admit that I was still a virgin. So, I told her that I slept with Tyler because I was too ashamed of the truth.
“…and that’s what I have to say about that. So there.” My silence must have been an obvious indicator that I’d tuned her out. “Are you even listening to me, bitch?”
I cringed. “Um, no.”
She sighed. “You’re frustrating sometimes, you know that? I just want you to have fun. Don’t waste all your time working when you should be going out and experiencing life. If you don’t want to go out with Caleb, then fine. But at least put yourself out there with somebody else. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone, is all.”
“It sounds to me like he just wants to get his dick wet,” I grumbled, picking fluffy white cat hair off my black yoga pants.
She made a gurgled sound. “Gross. Caleb may come off as kind of conceited, but he just knows what he wants. At least he told you, you had a nice ass!”
Kind of conceited was a mild way of putting it, but I didn’t say anything. After all, she was obligated to make her brother seem like less of an ass than he really was. Now more than ever given her intentions.
“Is that supposed to make me want to pounce on him?” I asked sarcastically. “I’m sure he’s a good guy when he wants to be, but why bother starting anything with somebody if they’re just going to leave?”
There was no point in investing in a person if they weren’t going to be around to reciprocate. And hookups led to feelings, which led to heartbreak. Who wanted to be broken?
“Then don’t catch the feels,” she said.
I blew out a heavy breath. That seemed much easier said than done. She probably didn’t think that was an issue for me since I never dated. It wasn’t like Tyler scorned me forever, but he did do a number on my self-esteem. And we hadn’t even made things official. We hung out, held hands, kissed, but to him I wasn’t worth the extra time it took to get to know me as more than just some notch on his bed post.
“I haven’t caught the feels yet,” I reminded her dryly, forcing the thought away.
“That’s because you don’t give yourself a chance to,” she countered. She knew me too well, which was funny. We only worked together six months out of the year when the motel was open for tourist season. When winter came, we’d text sometimes, but she was busy with her family, and I was busy working my retail job. Occasionally, I would babysit while she and her husband Tony had a date night, but it was never more than a few times during the off season since her parents usually helped.
Running my tongue against my bottom lip, I think back to the few times I crushed on guys. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did, it hit me hard. And it never, not once, worked out in my favor.
Lucas Croft was the first person I tried filling the unfixable gap with. We had gym together in high school where I mostly just stared at his butt in the nylon basketball shorts he wore as he ran around the court. I was supposed to be playing too, but then, the only time I ever ran was if something was chasing me.
The summer before we graduated, Lucas had asked me if I wanted to go to Valley Forge, the local hookup spot. And me? Well, I wasn’t the type of girl that boys asked there. But when Lucas had, my friend Maci had encouraged me to go. He’d never shown interest in me before, but she insisted it didn’t matter. And since Maci had experience with boys, I wasn’t one to question her.
Valley Forge was where I had my first kiss, on the docks with my feet in the water. As far as kisses went, it could have been worse. But my lack of comparisons at the time made me realize just how bad it was.
Kissing Lucas was what I imagined being licked by a bulldog would be like. It was sloppy, wet, and kind of gross. I tried enjoying it, but between his tongue practically choking me and fish tickling my toes, it was hard to find anything good about it.
After it was over, Lucas admitted he only invited me because Maci had suggested it. The truth had hurt. What was worse was that I didn’t even have a decent kiss to remember it by.
My expectations of boys were based on the silly books I read and movies I watched. The ones where they said all the right things, and everyone lived happily ever after in the end. It was a naïve thought, but one I’d always held onto.
Shaking off the thought, I came back to reality. One that involved fictional men instead of real ones.
“I see what you’re saying,” I relented. “I just can’t get involved with anybody right now. I’m working sixty-five hours a week, and I only get one full day off.”
“Which is one day off to have fun!”
I snorted. “It’s the day where I run errands and do laundry. Not exactly stimulating stuff going on around here.”
She burst out laughing. “Did you just say stimulating? Oh my God, Paisley. We really do need you to get laid. I’m telling you, one good fuck and you’ll be walking on the clouds.”
My face heated up over that. The only action I ever got was at my annual physical with my doctor, and I couldn’t say a pap smear was particularly sexy.
“Yeah,” I draw out slowly. “I’m good.”
She sighed in defeat. “You’re not, but I’ll crack you eventually.”
“Good luck with that.”
She let it go. “You’re off tomorrow at the motel, right?”
I popped my lips when I answered, “Yep. I get to do my laundry and finally buy food that isn’t Ramen noodles and TV dinners.”
“Wow. You live such an exciting life,” she deadpanned.
“Whatever. See you Wednesday?”
We hung up and I shut my television off before walking into my bedroom. Iris was looking out for me, and I appreciated it. I didn’t live a thrilling life, and everybody knew it. Even my parents told me to go out and do something for myself.
But every time I tried having fun in the past, it blew up in my face at extraordinary levels.
Staying inside like an old lady was lonely, but it was safe.