So, That Got Weird

by Amelia Kingston

  Gotta love Jackie-logic.

  It’s hard to build up a country to first-world status. It takes an excruciating amount of time, skill and a bit of luck. I spend about ten hours a week playing. Then there’s forums to read and my league membership responsibilities. It’s more than just a hobby. Outside of school, this game is my whole life. One of the few things I’m good at. Jackie and I are two of only a handful of women who’ve managed it. I’m not going to say we’re famous or anything. More in-game notorious, Jackie much more than me.

  Jackie’s kind of evil, in the game at least. She loves to say, “It’s a man’s world, but I run the bitch.” It’s fair to say I idolize her. But today she’s getting on my last nerve.

  “I think I know who wants to touch you with his ten-foot pole,” she teases.

  This is getting old. She’s been at it all day, harassing me about Austin. I never should’ve told her about our fake date. Or about his party tonight.

  “Jesus, can we talk about the game for once? You’re obsessed.” I want to talk to my best friend, play my game and zone out tonight. Jackie is having none of it.

  “I’m not obsessed. Just an interested party. It was my idea, after all!” she reminds me casually.

  Technically, she suggested an escort. I compromised with a sex tutor. The nuanced difference seems to be lost on Jackie. She’s happy I’m going to finally ‘get my freak on.’

  I made the mistake of confessing my inexperience to her about a year ago. Months of merciless teasing culminated in a strip-o-gram on my doorstep. At least, I hope he was just a stripper. I never let him in to find out. I did give him a fifty-dollar tip to leave, though.

  Never give a home address to strangers online, kids!

  Jackie was pissed I wasted a perfectly good stripper and wouldn’t stop hounding me about the idea of ‘immersion therapy.’ She said it worked for her cousin’s fear of heights. It could work for my fear of cocks too. Her words, not mine. I don’t use words like…that.

  “Bee tee dubs, now that I’ve seen him, he’s starring in all my wet dreams! I don’t know how you haven’t asked him to put it in you yet. I’d drop my panties in the first fifteen seconds for that man.”

  I used to blush when Jackie made lewd comments, but it only egged her on. She claims she’s desensitizing me to it, and it’s for my own good. I think she’s vulgar to everyone. In any case, I’ve trained myself not to react to her. A talent I’m thankful for around Austin, who also seems to enjoy making me blush.

  “First of all, stop having wet dreams about Austin. He’s mine. Well, not mine mine, but you know what I mean.” I’m not sure even I know what I mean. “And second, you know this is hard for me, so stop pushing! I’ve got four weeks.” My response comes out more whiny than assertive.

  “First, I bet he’s hard for you too,” she says in an extra-sultry voice. I roll my eyes, but she laughs. “Second, you can’t control my wet dreams. The pussy wants what the pussy wants. And third, you only have three weeks now.”

  She’s right. About the third thing, not the first two.

  Ewww.

  I only have three more weeks with Austin. When I first thought about ‘immersion therapy,’ four weeks seemed like plenty of time. It all fits on the schedule, my ‘sex-abus,’ nice and neat. Now, I can’t believe the first week is gone already.

  “Fine, three weeks is still a really long time,” I claim, not really believing it myself.

  I cringe at the thought of not seeing Austin again until Tuesday. It’s been terrifying, but it’s also surprisingly fun. He’s so much more than I thought.

  “Not at the pace you’re going. You’ve barely even let the boy feel you up yet, for fuck’s sake!” She grabs her own chest and gives herself a good jiggle. “Tell me again why you can’t go to this party?”

  “Because it would be awkward. We’re business associates more than friends.” I use Austin’s analogy from our non-date dinner. I hated it at the time, but he’s right. That’s the closest description to whatever it is we are. Austin made it perfectly clear that he basically thinks of me as his boss. We’re not dating. But sometimes, when he looks at me, I could swear there has to be something more between us. When he’s not being an ass.

  “First, it’s not awkward unless you make it awkward. And second, he invited you. If anything, it’s rude if you don’t go.” Jackie keeps using the same argument and it’s slowly driving me insane.

  “First, I’m always awkward. You know this. And second, he specifically didn’t invite me. He said he would ask me to stop by, but house parties aren’t my thing, so he didn’t ask. And you know what? He’s right. They aren’t my thing!” I snap at her. It has zero effect. She’s painfully pigheaded and ruthless when she thinks she’s right. It’s one of the things that makes her such a great dictator.

  Stalin would be so proud.

  “Please, that’s just what guys say when they want to invite you, but they’re afraid you won’t show.” Her dismissive tone grates on my nerves. My parents used that tone with me my whole life. It makes me feel about two inches tall.

  “That’s not how it sounded in his truck. It was very much a dis-invitation,” I practically scream at her. I’m sick of her making me second-guess myself.

  “And what did he say when you got out of the truck?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Why do I share things when she only ever uses them against me?

  “That he wanted to make me feel like the sexual goddess he knows I am.” My cheeks flush when I remember the heat in Austin’s stunning blue eyes last night. Those words, that look, his kiss. Even just the memory undoes me.

  Of course I want to see him again tonight, but I’m terrified he doesn’t want to see me. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not even really his friend.

  Just this weird girl who is paying him for sex.

  Jackie can read me like a book. The wistfulness in my voice is blood in the water and Jackie’s a shark.

  “That’s an invitation to get fucked, sister.”

  “It so wasn’t. I’m not going to show up there like some creepy obsessed fangirl.”

  “Then don’t go for him. Go for you. It is a party. I’m sure there are plenty of other guys you can practice your new moves on.” My heart revolts at the thought. I don’t want anyone else’s hands on me.

  Or to see Austin’s hands on someone else.

  He doesn’t belong to me. He could be with anyone he wants tonight. The realization makes my lunch want to make an encore appearance. Why am I jealous? He isn’t my boyfriend.

  But you wish he was.

  Shut it, brain. No one asked you. Maybe Jackie is right. I can go to the party as practice. What’s wrong with that? If I happen to see Austin, no big deal.

  Liar.

  “Maybe…” My willpower is fading.

  “Good, we’ve decided you’re going. Now, go put on that black dress I sent you for your birthday last year.” Jackie pounces faster than a lion on a wounded gazelle.

  “Jackie, no. That is not a dress. It’s a glorified handkerchief. You can see my everything,” I object strenuously, only half-aware that I’ve already conceded to going to the party.

  “That’s the point, sweet girl. You’ve got plenty worth showing and you should do it more often.”

  I don’t budge, so she tries another tactic.

  “Please go try it on. I just want to see it. I won’t make you wear it if you don’t want,” Jackie cajoles.

  I know this trick. I might as well get in a shady van with free candy spray-painted on the side. Still, I put on the stupid dress.

  * * * *

  This is a bad idea.

  This is a really bad idea.

  This is a really terribly bad idea!

  After an hour of playing dress-up with Jackie, deciding how to curl my hair, putting on a bit more makeup and generally reminding myself I’m a woman, I walk up the driveway to the football house. And yes, I’m wearing the handkerchief dress.

  What can I say? Jac
kie is good.

  Music and people are overflowing from the open doors and windows, but I shove past with a few quiet “Excuse mes”. No one responds and they only seem to get out of the way when I tap them on the shoulder. I guess common courtesy isn’t big at house parties.

  I’m not even in the door yet and I feel out of place and ready to leave. Jackie made me promise to stay a half-hour, long enough to have a drink and try to relax. Easy for her to say five hundred miles away, safely behind her computer screen.

  I continue to make my way around people and through the house, on the hunt for something to drink so I can fulfill my promise to Jackie and get the hell out of here. There’s a makeshift bar in the kitchen and I trudge through the crowd toward it.

  “What can I get for you tonight, sexy?” a massive guy in a football jersey asks. He must be over three hundred pounds. I wonder if he has to turn sideways to walk through doorways. I step away to let the girl he’s talking to behind me pass by, except there isn’t another girl. There’s just me. His eyes are locked on me and I swallow down the lump in my throat.

  “Ummm…”

  Words. This is where most people use words.

  Nope, I’ll just point to the giant punch bowl.

  “Victory punch?”

  I give him a quick nod. Who needs words, am I right?

  “Nice choice.” He gives me an approving nod as he hands me my cliché red Solo Cup filled with the unknown bright red concoction.

  They wouldn’t roofie a whole punch bowl, right?

  Drink in hand, I make my way to a quiet section of the wall and begin my mental countdown. I get a few sideways glances, even an ogle or two, but when I shy away and don’t return the interest, I’m mostly ignored. I’ve spent my life trying not to be seen. I’m a master at it now.

  I’m halfway through my drink when I hear it. Austin’s laugh. It isn’t just the light chuckle I usually hear when I’ve done something stupid. It’s a full belly laugh like the one we shared when I was idiotically screaming “Loosey-goosey” at the top of my lungs. I scan the room for him, wondering what made him laugh. Wondering who made him laugh.

  Am I seriously jealous someone else got his laugh?

  What was it I said about not being a creepy fangirl?

  My eyes finally find him across the room. He’s surrounded by a group of guys, other football players if I had to guess. One of them is gesturing wildly, in the throes of a super-engaging story. I let out a little sigh of relief.

  Austin’s sitting on the armrest of the couch, a beer in hand and an easy smile on his sexy lips. He is so casually confident, as if he owns the universe and everyone in it. He’s drop-dead gorgeous as always, with his jeans that hug all the right places and a snug black T-shirt that shows off his amazing arms. I try to hide a shudder remembering how it feels when those arms are wrapped around me.

  He is every bit the cocky athlete, but it’s more than that. He fits in. He belongs. I’ve never felt that and I doubt I ever will. Last night, when he took my hand and said everyone is weird, I wanted to believe him so badly. But he isn’t. He’s everything I’m not. I’m both jealous and in awe of him. I watch him from the corner of the room for several minutes. Possibly without blinking.

  Ease up, creepy stalker!

  I try to drag my eyes away from him until I see a tall blonde bombshell lean against his shoulders. If I was trying to describe every man’s dream girl, she’d be it. Her shapely tan legs seem to go on forever, only coming to an end at her firm butt and slender hips. Keep moving up and there’s her tiny waist and flat abs, followed by a pair of perky boobs. And that’s just her body. She also happens to have the face of an angel. If someone put a gun to my head, I wouldn’t be able to say what’s more stunning, her full red lips or the long lashes fluttering over her hazel eyes.

  I know her type. Cheerleader. Cheerleaders are sugary sweet and lovably perky. They run on an endless supply of enthusiasm and hopefulness. Guys just want to put them in their pocket and take them home to meet their mother. That’s not me.

  She’s touching Austin, so I hate her by default. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to having a bit of a girl-crush too. She’s that beautiful. Watching her massage Austin’s shoulder, I drain the last of my drink and decide to grab another.

  It’s a party, right?

  So begins my new drinking game. Barbie touches Austin’s arms, I take a drink. Barbie smiles at Austin, I take a drink. Barbie laughs at Austin, I take a drink. Austin laughs at Barbie, I chug.

  It’s easy to keep them in sight while hiding. Even half-naked in Jackie’s stupid dress, I’m nothing compared to the Barbie-esque women walking around. Austin hasn’t glanced my way once. But then again, his Barbie has been keeping him pretty entertained. She’s laughing again.

  Take a sip.

  Oops.

  That’s the end of that cup.

  Better get another.

  Is this the third or fourth?

  How long have I been here?

  I close one eye, trying to get the hands on my watch to stay still long enough for me to read the time. I huff and give up when the rest of the room spins as well.

  I sway and grab what I think is the wall. I only notice the soft fabric gripped in my fist after it’s too late. Luckily, the ground is there to break my fall. I pull the drapes right down on top of me, the curtain rod hitting me in the head with a comedic thud.

  What a joke.

  Even with the music turned up and the noise of the crowded house, everyone in the room turns to see the commotion I caused.

  Everyone.

  Including Austin.

  Including Barbie.

  Kill me now.

  On the upside, at four drinks in I’ve kept my promise to Jackie and then some. As predicted, I came, I saw and I was conquered by my own awkwardness.

  “Are you okay?” I hear a guy’s concerned voice in my ear as someone’s hand wraps around my arm, pulling me up off the floor. I don’t know him, but he seems sweet and cute enough. He’s shorter and scrawnier than Austin, but he’s no hobbit. Plus, he’s holding me and not Barbie, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

  As I get up off the ground, I slide my arms around his neck the way Austin showed me. Since he’s shorter, it’s much easier. I don’t have to stand on my tippy toes to reach. To my surprise, the stranger doesn’t pull back. He puts his hand on my waist to steady me.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the practice with Austin, but the contact isn’t scary. It isn’t anything. I wish it felt nice. Hell, I would take mediocre. I wish I felt anything other than regret for coming to this stupid party tonight.

  “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks. I got a bit dizzy there for a second.” I try, unsuccessfully, not to slur my words.

  “Elizabeth?”

  And then I learn what regret really feels like. I catch Austin’s blue eyes piercing into me as he stalks over to us in a few purposeful strides. I cling a little more desperately to this complete stranger. I can’t read Austin’s expression, but he definitely isn’t happy to see me.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Damn you, Jackie!

  “Nice to see you too, Austin,” I reply with as much indignation as a drunk party-crasher can manage. He ignores my snark and exchanges glances with my stranger. The stranger pulls away, glancing between me and Austin. He’s probably intimidated staring up at Austin, who has a few inches and more than a few pounds on him.

  Austin looks aggravated. I try to defuse the tension by introducing them.

  “Complete Stranger, this is Austin Jacobs. Austin Jacobs, this is Complete Stranger.” Just as I finish my pleasantries, I spy Barbie over Austin’s shoulder. Not wanting to be rude, I introduce her too. “And this is College Barbie.”

  Really, under the circumstances, I think I did quite well. My mother would’ve been proud of my attention to etiquette despite my inebriation. Of course, Barbie didn’t seem to appreciate it. Although, I swear there was a flash of
a smile on Austin’s lips.

  “Tommy.” Complete Stranger holds his hand out to Austin, who shakes it with a mix of confusion and irritation.

  “Elizabeth Wilde.” Loosening my grip around Tommy’s neck, I introduce myself too, giving him an over-enthusiastic shake before the world starts to spin again. I tighten my grasp on what I think is Tommy, but to be honest could also be the curtains again. A pair of large warm hands grabs my waist from behind with a familiar touch.

  I lean back into him. “Austin, that feels nice. Did I say that out loud?” I ask nobody in particular.

  Austin chuckles. The rumble in his chest against my back makes me moan. A wave of heat rushes over my body. The pleasure is short-lived as I have to shut my eyes to keep the world from spinning. Austin’s touch is the only thing anchoring me. I hear the three of them talking.

  “Do you know her?” Tommy asks.

  “Yeah, I’ve got her. Thanks for the help.”

  Tommy lets go of me as Austin scoops me up in his arms. My alcohol-soaked mind rambles off something about brides, thresholds and wedding nights. I’m sober enough to pray to the party gods I didn’t say any of it out loud.

  “Jessie, can you grab a bottle of water?” I hear Austin ask.

  Who’s Jessie?

  “Sure. She’s pretty trashed.” A surprising amount of concern laces Barbie’s voice as she replies.

  Of course she’s got a cool name. Elizabeth is so lame. It’s the name of a little old lady who knits ugly sweaters for her fifty cats.

  “Jessie’s her nickname actually.” Austin’s response confirms I no longer have an internal monologue.

  That’s just what this situation needs, an unfiltered drunk Elizabeth.

  “Short for Jessica. And I think Elizabeth fits you.” His velvet voice is in my ear, soft enough only I can hear it. It’s intimate and sexy. And of course I tell him so, because I haven’t had enough embarrassment yet tonight.

  Screw it.

  There’s no recovering from tonight. I might as well go all in. I wrap my arms around Austin’s neck and bury my face in the soft skin on the nape of his neck. He smells delicious, a rich spicy vanilla, sweet and intense. I’m overcome by the need to know how he tastes. Salty.