by Kata Čuić
The full gravity of the situation washes over me, all but ensuring I’ll never have another orgasm as long as I live. I cover my face with my hands. I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again. This is my worst nightmare, come to life. Maybe I won’t order another boyfriend or ever masturbate even with my fingers. I’ll never be capable of not reliving this moment every time I touch myself. This night ranks in the top five worst of all-time, and I’m only twenty-two.
A knock on my door breaches my panic attack. “I’m, uh.” He clears his throat. “I apologize. I was going to ask to sleep on your couch, but I’ll go. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving, so you could, uh, go back to what you were doing.”
He’s still here? And is that laughter I hear in his tone?
All my embarrassment burns away, replaced by fiery indignation. I vault off my bed, then throw the door open to find Jason making his retreat.
“Leave the key.”
He freezes, his shoulders inching up as he slowly raises his hands in the air. He looks very much like a burglar, caught in the act, with a gun pointed at his back.
I really wish I had something to fire at him besides my words. “Who the hell do you think you are, barging in here in the middle of the night and judging me?”
“I’m not judging,” he responds quickly. Too quickly.
“Yes, you are. I could hear you laughing through the door. How dare you? Not everyone has their pick of lays like you and Rosie. Some of us have to take matters into our own hands.”
His shoulders visibly shake, though he doesn’t make a sound.
Damn that ill-timed and completely unintentional pun.
Murder has never seemed like a solution to all my problems. Until now. I race the distance between us, lunging at his back and wrapping myself around him to deliver as many blows as I can get in before he wrestles me to the floor. In the blink of an eye, my arms are above my head, my wrists trapped in his hands.
I should’ve known that was a poorly thought-out plan. The sound of his laughter assaults my ears as his body shakes on top of mine. He pants for air, burying his face in my neck.
At least I don’t have to look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “I really am. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted somewhere quiet to sleep, but I figured I should ask you first.”
“What? You weren’t exhausted enough to pass out on your couch after all the action you got tonight? Do you really expect me to believe you don’t either enjoy or participate in whatever Rosie brings into your apartment?”
He outright howls into my shoulder. My skin feels damp with his tears, he’s laughing so hard.
At me.
I wriggle beneath him, trying my best to work my hands free.
He tightens his grip in response as he gasps until he can speak again. “If it makes you feel any better, I have the worst case of blue balls known to man. I haven’t been able to jerk off in weeks. Rosie’s always there, and it messes with my head.”
“Stop lying to me,” I yell. “It’s no skin off my nose if you’re both enjoying orgies in the privacy of your own home with consenting parties.”
He raises up to look at me with a gaze I can’t face, so I roll my head to the side. As much fury pumps through my veins, it’s not enough to douse my humiliation.
“Why would I lie?”
“Because it’s all any of us does anymore. What’s the truth? We’re friends? You can’t stand me? You want to use me for a blow job like all the other women at the party, then throw me away like yesterday’s garbage?”
“Hey.” He releases my hands to grip my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “I followed the plan tonight. I made Kieran believe I was using you the same as he had. We agreed to everything beforehand. If you didn’t want to go through with it, you should have spoken up.”
“What would I say? I’ve changed my mind? I want off this circus ride? It’s a little late for that.”
His eyes harden. “What about you, huh? What are you lying about? You think it was fun for me to have you kiss me tonight for show? You think it made me feel all warm and fuzzy for you to tell your ex-fuck boy you paid my price of admission? Did you do that on purpose just to let me know where we really stand or was Rosie right about you?”
His words crush me more than the full weight of his body. I flip through the movie reel in my mind, rewinding to the part of the evening he’s referring to, but I can’t remember what was said. Only the dirty but excited way I felt. “What was Rosie right about?”
He searches my face, our noses nearly brushing. It’s almost like he’s daring me to look away or to be disgusted with the sight that invades my personal security bubble. “That you’re selfish and only care about yourself.”
I bark out a laugh. “That’s an awfully hypocritical statement from someone who admitted to using me as a replacement for the friend who rejected her based on her sexuality. Something I would never have done if she’d only given me the chance to prove it.”
His breath ghosts against my lips as he releases a sigh. “I know she hurt you.”
“You don’t know shit, Jason Gould. You’ve never left yourself open enough to be hurt by someone you care for.”
Once the words escape, there’s no taking them back. Years of slowly working to build his trust in me crumble in an instant with the revelation of all the suspicions about his closed-off behavior I’ve developed.
He scrambles off me, staggering as he retreats several steps away.
His actions only further prove what I’ve known all along. I rise to my feet, all the anger of three years of effort being for nothing pulsing under my skin, screaming for release before the poison eats me alive. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I tried to be your friend. Your newfound acting skills about hating me aside, you never once reciprocated what I offered. I talked to you, shared with you. You were silent. I made an effort to include you in my life—studying together, eating lunches and dinners together, driving home for breaks together. Texting you if I hadn’t heard from you in a while. What did you give me in return? Nothing.”
“That’s not true.” His voice is eerily quiet as he meets my gaze head on. “I gave you everything I could.”
“Name one thing,” I challenge.
“I can think of a few.” He advances a step with every word. “Gym time. Danishes. Coffee. A ride when you needed one. Someone to listen when you wanted a distraction from the silence. I let you in when you cornered me freshman year. I could have told you to fuck off and kept living life the way I had until that point.”
“Alone?” I scoff. “You’re still alone. You’ve never let me in, not really. How’s that working out for you, Jason?”
“It was fine, don’t you get it?” He grips me by the shoulders. “My life was just fine until you came crashing into it.”
“I’d love to leave as quickly as I came, but I’m stuck here now because I couldn’t throw you to the wolves and not try to help.”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be surrounded by them.”
“I never blackmailed you into going to that party. I begged. And yet when push came to shove, you sided with her.”
He releases me again, scrubbing his newly scabbed hands over his face.
“I get it, you know. I understand perfectly well in a way maybe I simply didn’t want to before. All those things you mentioned? You didn’t give them to me as your best attempt to engage in a meaningful relationship with me. You didn’t even let me in,” I mock his words, “because you wanted a friend. You and Rosie both fed me enough to make me believe you cared because you pitied me. You saw a girl lonelier than yourself, and you felt bad for me. Rosie saw a struggling sister who could never hope to fit in without some help, so she took me under her wing. That’s really what you two bonded over. I’m not the common denominator between you two because I’m your friend. I’m your pity project.”
He drops his hands, meeting my gaze. “You’re right.”
His admission hurts every bit as much as Rosie’s. Being right sucks.
“I did feel bad for you. You obviously needed a friend if you were picking me.”
“You really don’t remember me at all from high school, do you?” If he felt bad for me my freshman year of college, how much worse would he have felt senior year when I ate lunch by myself every day? Or never went to Prom? Or anywhere, really.
“Not everything I’ve told you is a lie. I was trying to survive high school. You weren’t on my radar in that hell. You looked vaguely familiar, and you had no reason to lie about it. And yeah. I felt awful when it was plain as day Kieran was using you for sex when it was obvious you wanted so much more. When Rosie asked me to help her keep an eye on you, I figured it was the least I could do.”
“The least you could do? You let me show up at your apartment after every night I was with him. Never complained about losing sleep. Never asked me to talk about it.” I laugh. Of course, he wouldn’t have, though. Talking isn’t something Jason does.
He nods. “You needed a friend. Who was I to say no if I could give you something he couldn’t?”
Tears well in my eyes, forcing me to look away again. I’ve been so weak already. I don’t want to turn into the kind of person he is, though. I don’t want to hold people at arm’s length. I can play this game and not lose myself, can’t I? “You were my hero.”
“I didn’t do anything. You obviously needed someone to be there, so I was there.”
“No. Not then.” I swipe at the tear tickling my cheek. “But, maybe that’s why I came to you. You were my hero in high school. What you went through was so much worse than anything I had to bear, but it never seemed to get you down. You accepted it. Everything they did, you took on the chin and still held your head high.”
Warm, strong arms wrap around me. His body feels too rigid to mistake this for a willing embrace. “There isn’t a heroic bone in my body.”
“What are you doing, then?”
“Trying to be a better friend. I don’t really do the hugging thing very often, so sorry if I suck at it.”
I laugh into his solid wall of a chest. “Is your non-hug another lie?”
“Do you want it to be?” he whispers.
“I’m not sure how to answer that. Are you really not capable of actual hugs?”
He drops his arms to his side and steps back. “I guess not.” That old, infuriating smirk appears on his lips. “Would a better friend buy you a new vibrator?”
The urge to both punch him and cover my face wars within me. Hiding my embarrassment wins out. “A great friend would never bring that up again. Pretend you never saw anything.”
“There’s no way I’m not bringing that up again. That was the most action I’ve gotten in a long time.”
I peek at him from between my fingers. “You weren’t lying about that, either?”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused. “Not being able to jerk off? No. Rosie is always there. Or her friends are.” He shakes his head. “She felt so alone when she came out; she didn’t realize how many other students on campus are still in the closet.”
In spite of everything, I’m happy for her. “But, after the fight? Those women were all over you. You always said you worked out so hard to give them a reason to want you. Was that a lie?”
He tips his head back and forth, his chest heaving on a deep sigh. “No. That wasn’t a lie, either. It turns out, being wanted for my body isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. They can’t look me in the eyes, but they’ll offer to suck my dick? That’s fucked up.”
As much as I hate the unfair position he’s in, I can’t stop a grin from pulling at my lips.
He narrows his eyes. “Why are you smiling like a loon?”
I drop my hands since I’m obviously not hiding anything. “You might not be ready for hugs, but this is the most you’ve ever shared with me while sober. I’m sorry things haven’t worked out the way you hoped, but I’m not sorry you told me about it.”
“And I’m not even a little sorry I caught you petting the kitty.”
I stifle a laugh. He’s obviously falling back into old habits of deflection. I’ll let him off the hook for now. He’s given me more in a few minutes than in years.
“What now?” he asks. “Do you trust me again? Or, do I need to tell you my entire life story? Because I’m really tired and sore, and I have to be up for work in…” he looks at a non-existent watch on his wrist. “Two hours.”
I want to reassure him, but I can’t. Too much has happened. He’s given me something, but it’s not yet nearly enough. And I can’t put my finger on why that is. “I guess right now, then, you go crash in my bed and get a few precious hours of sleep.”
“I can take the couch.”
“No.” I push him toward the bedroom, but it’s like pushing against a truck. Not even a wobble. “I’ll take the couch. I’m smaller than you. Besides, I can always crawl back into bed after you leave.”
“Does this mean I can drag you to the gym with me after my shift again?” He gives up the resistance and trudges in the direction I want him to go.
“Did I get an orgasm tonight?”
“No?” His tone is obviously guessing.
“Then, that’s your answer.”
Truth: Sometimes you get the best light from burning a bridge.
It’s the cloudy, gray kind of day that seems like dawn, no matter what time it is. The sun never breaks; the chill in the air sharpens with each passing hour. Even from inside my apartment, as I stare through my kitchen window, I can’t get warm.
I pull my hands further inside the sleeves of my oversized hoodie to stop them from shaking while I wait for the microwave to spit out the cup of instant macaroni and cheese. My appetite is non-existent, but I have mountains of homework to get through and need to give myself some energy somehow.
“We have eighty-eight correct answers so far, and it’s only Tuesday,” Rosie calls from the living room. “Over five thousand riding on Jason to win again, but people are getting antsy. No one believes he can go undefeated for the entire year.”
Since she felt like a useless observer in our little operation, I figured it couldn’t hurt to let her keep track of the text responses every week. It’s more a figurehead position than anything, with almost nothing riding on her accuracy, but it gives her something to do and makes her feel wanted. Though Jason insists she’s getting more action than she ever has since coming out, the old light in her eyes hasn’t resurfaced. Either she’s lying to him, or she’s unsatisfied, even if her orgasms are more plentiful than they’ve ever been.
I’m banking on the latter. She might have lied to me about any number of things in the past, but I feel confident enough in my knowledge of her to know Rosie attaches deeper meaning to her relationships than what’s on the surface. She wouldn’t have been so hurt by Hayleigh’s rejection, otherwise. Her need to replace that failed friendship with me only bolsters my hypothesis.
The timer beeps, and I remove the Styrofoam cup from its holding cell, reveling in the warmth it suffuses. Stirring mindlessly at the limp noodles I’ll force myself to ingest, I make my way back to the couch to sit beside her.
She glances at me briefly before turning her attention back to her laptop. “The reveals weren’t as good as last week’s. This was too easy. We’re going to run out of room in the Phi Kappa basement if this keeps up, and I don’t see how we can change locations. Taking this to either public or university property is a risk we can’t afford.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. As hard as I’ve tried to juggle all the balls currently in my court, my focus the past week hasn’t been as sharp. It’s as if the added layer of trying to repair my broken friendships with Rosie and Jason have physically put my body over its limits of stress. I can’t shake the way they’ve abused my trust in the past, no matter how much I might want to. Once a bridge has been burned to the ground, even rebuilding can’t exactly replicate the same structure.
&nb
sp; “Do you need help?”
I stare at her a few beats too long, my sluggish mind not really comprehending her question. “With what? I know our majors are related, but I’m pretty sure you can’t do my Honors Genetics homework for me.”
She tips her head side to side. “I probably could, actually, but not entirely accurately. You’ve gone above and beyond my coursework.”
In my difficult-to-shake bitterness, I sometimes forget how smart she is. Her Barbie doll appearance leads many to believe she’s only beauty and no brains. If you ask Rosie, that makes her a double threat.
“I wasn’t talking about your homework,” she clarifies. “Do you need help with the reveals? I’m not in the same position I was before as an SST sister, but I still hear enough through the grapevine. I can provide some information if you have a slim week.”
Her offer holds no underlying accusation, but that doesn’t ease my anxiety a bit. Even though my head throbs, I pull a valid reason from somewhere deep in my brain that sounds perfectly rational. “The reveals are supposed to be about those who think they’re untouchable, remember? You’re running with a crowd we don’t want to harm these days.”
She throws herself back against the couch, clearly pouting. “Shit. You’re right. No one who’s taken me in deserves having their dirty laundry aired.”
“They do not,” I affirm, grateful she’s found a new tribe. No matter what she’s done to me, no one deserves to be alone. “Why aren’t you out to dinner or on a date tonight, anyway?”
The amount of time Rosie’s spent in my apartment this past week is just another clue that her attention isn’t as high in demand as Jason believes. Either she’s still lonely, or he finally booted her out of his space, so he could tend to his own needs in peace.
Rosie smirks as she refreshes the screen to see if any new responses have been submitted. “I need a break, to be honest with you. My lady parts are sore, and I’m not entirely certain I don’t have a yeast infection from overuse.”
A shiver overtakes me. That statement is both too much information and jealousy-inducing. BOB received a fitting burial in my trash can, wrapped in a coffin of toilet paper, but the reminder of Jason catching me in the act haunts me too much to do anything other than mourn the loss.