by Sara Ney
“Get the fuck out, jackoff!” I roar as Abby chokes out a horrified squeak. She scrambles frantically for the blankets but is still impaled on my now flaccid dick, so it’s basically the most fucking awkward position I’ve ever had the misfortune to be in.
Her hands quickly cup her naked breasts, her face and neck turning red and covered with a bright rash.
“Wow, Showtime, she’s got a great rack.” Cubby’s eyes roam Abby’s creamy skin approvingly, and I all but throw her off me so I can climb out of bed and beat the ever-loving piss out of my roommate.
I look around for my pants, pointing furiously toward the door. “Get your fucking eyes off my girlfriend’s tits and get the fuck out, now.”
“Dude, I was giving her a compliment.” He continues to stand in the doorway, immobile, captivated by the free porno show. “I stopped by to see if you’re going to the rink tonight.”
Why is he still standing there?
I am seething through clenched teeth. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”
Cubby’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Bro, why are you yelling? You’re the one who didn’t lock your door. How am I supposed to know you’re in here having sexual relations?”
Abby disappears beneath the covers, burrowing herself deep as another voice joins the party, chanting, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” over and over.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Miles halts next to Cubby, clearly on his way to the gym, keen eyes focused on the lump in my blankets. “You got someone in there with you, buddy? Don’t tell me. Let me guess…” He taps a finger on his chin. “Brielle from the Campus IT Help Desk?”
Arrogant prick.
“You idiot, it’s Abby. I caught them boning,” Cubby tells him matter-of-factly, like Miles is the idiot here.
“No shit it’s Abby.” Miles rolls his eyes. “I could hear him moaning her fucking name last night.” He gives me an appraising look and adjusts the duffle bag draped across his shoulder. “Good for you, man.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index fingers, and calmly exhale. “Close the door and get out.”
Miles ushers Cubby out into the hall, closing the door behind him. “You might want to check the lock next time, bro!” he yells from the other side of the door, giving the solid wood a few raps with his knuckle.
I sit on the edge of the bed, sheet wrapped around my waist, and fall back onto the bed, reaching behind me to tap the maniacally giggly lump in the center of my bed.
“You think that was funny?”
“No!” Her head pops out from under my white sheets, dark hair falling around her bare shoulders in sheets. “Th-this is hysterical l-laughter. I can’t h-help it. This only happens when I’m stressed out or terribly n-nervous.”
“Are you going to be okay? Do you… need anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine. It could have been worse, I guess.” Abby hiccups. “At least I didn’t start crying.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to pummel their faces in. But don’t worry, I’ll make it look like an accident.”
She blinks at me and leans forward, placing a kiss upside down on my Adam’s apple. “You should really go and… throw that thing out.”
“Oh shit!” I jump up and race naked to the bathroom.
I toss the condom in the garbage and rinse my hands, bracing both hands on the counter as I stare in the mirror at my reflection and take an inventory of myself that I haven’t done in a long time. Dark eyes that aren’t scowling, eyebrows relaxed, mouth in an upturned line for the first time in fucking forever.
For once, I feel carefree and young.
I run the sink again and splash cold water on my face, toweling off my neck and chest before wrapping a terrycloth bath towel around my narrow hips.
For the hell of it, I splash some cologne on my neck before walking back into my bedroom, and call me crazy, but I was fully expecting and hoping to see Abby still sprawled out in the center of my big bed.
Instead, she’s standing in my gray cotton tee shirt, next to my dresser, hand extended in front of her, two delicate fingers grasping her gold ring.
Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.
Her ring.
“What are you doing with this?” She holds it out high, eyebrows curved in a patronizing arch, bare foot tapping on my cold, hardwood floor. “Care to explain?” Her lips are pursed tight, and her other hand is on her hip.
“I…”
She stares at me impassively, waiting.
My palms go out in front of me, beseeching. “Abby, let me explain.”
Still nothing.
“I meant to give it back.”
“When, Caleb?” Tears form in the corner of her eyes, and she swipes them away angrily. “When you saw me pawing the ground on my hands and knees? Or when I told you about it that day you walked me home. Answer me.”
Shit. Sweet Abby is kind of scary.
And if she weren’t gearing up to chew my ass out, I’d applaud her for sticking up for herself.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Clearly not.” She stalks over to the chair where she stacked her clothes and begins angrily pulling on her jeans, one leg at a time, and muttering under her breath. She flops down, pulling on her shoes and zipping them both up the side. “Stupid little virgin. Way to fall for the big, angry, lying jockstrap.”
My hands shake as I hold them out, imploring. I am way out of my league with this one. “Have I ever been anything but honest with you?”
She stands up and shoves the ring right in my face. “Gee, I guess not!”
“Be fair. Everything I’ve ever said has been honest.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh brother. Like that’s real hard—you scarcely ever talk, Caleb!”
“Come on, stop. Please, I tried. Don’t be pissed at me.” I shake my head and run both hands through my hair, frustrated. I don’t miss Abby’s eyes flicker to the waistband of my loosening towel with a guilty spark, and she gulps before jerking away.
“How do I know I can trust you with my heart if I can’t trust you with my possessions? Or my privacy? Is this all just a big joke to you?”
A joke? Okay, now I’m getting pissed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It’s a goddamn ring, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like I fucking cheated on you. Chill the fuck out.”
Okay, so that particular choice of words might have been a mistake, because her face gets so red that her bright blue eyes look aquamarine. They’re sexy and erotic and unnerving and all kinds of fucked up—especially when narrowed into slits and fixated on me.
She levels me with a stare, hurriedly gathering up her folded shirt from last night. “Okay. Fine. I’ll chill the fuck out if you can tell me why you didn’t tell me about the ring.”
She irritably screws the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand.
I proceed cautiously, knowing from watching my dad argue with my mom that there’s little reasoning with a woman who’s hell bent on being pissed. I keep my voice steady. “I just… forgot. And that’s the truth. I swear.”
“You forgot,” she says flatly. “Even after I brought it up, multiple times?”
Oh boy.
She sounds like a prosecutor cross-examining a witness, and I know that I’m losing her but am ill-equipped to stop it.
“Wait. Who’s the pre-law major, here?” I try joking with her to lighten the mood…
…and judging by the disgusted look marring her pretty face, it’s an epic fail.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry.” I shrug helplessly. “Is this about the guys walking in on us? Seriously, what are you really upset about?”
“No. Yes! This whole thing is freaking me out, Caleb! Cubby saw my… my… boobs!” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. Then, “That was mortifying for me. Absolutely mortifying. Words cannot describe. And do you want to know something else? I don’t
think your roommates have any respect for you. If they did, they wouldn’t have barged in here.”
Huh? “I know you’re upset—”
“My boobs, Caleb. He saw. My. Boobs. No one but you has ever seen them before!”
Feeling cornered, I shout, “I said I was sorry! What the fuck more do you want?”
“I want him to un-see my body! That’s what I want! And I want you to have been honest and given me my ring! That’s what I want!”
How did this escalate so quickly? “Wait,” I ask slowly. “Are you mad that my friends saw your boobs… or that I had your ring?”
I know it’s lame, but I really need her to be clear on this. But instead of responding, she stares at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Like I’m an idiot. Like I don’t get it.
“Caleb, maybe we’re not cut out for a relationship.” Her hands flutter, gesturing around the room. “Maybe this whole thing is a mistake.”
I don’t even know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
Abby inhales a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just so… Maybe we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if those jerks hadn’t charged into the room and humiliated me. But they did, and—” she pauses. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I c-can’t do this right now. Not when I’m still embarrassed.”
I run a hand through my hair, tugging it in frustration.
Mind made up, Abby stalks to the door, turning to face me as she yanks at the doorknob. She pauses as tears well up in her bright, expressive eyes. She wipes them away with a quick flick of her finger and lifts her chin a notch.
“And I-I’m keeping this shirt, asshole.”
And with a flounce, my favorite shirt and my would-be future girlfriend slam out the door.
CHAPTER 27
Abby
“Hey, Abby, wait up.”
At the sound of my name, I turn to see Tyler jogging briskly toward me, across the lawn of the Kappa house, in a wrinkled cut-off tee shirt and basketball shorts. His brown hair hangs in his eyes, and he’s barefoot.
He’s holding a blunt in one hand and a pair of brown leather flip-flops in the other.
“Hey,” I mumble, sniffling.
“Where’s the fire?” he guffaws at me, catching up and falling into stride next to me. “Please don’t tell me you just climbed out the window of the Omega house.”
I frown down at the weed pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s barely eight thirty and you’re already smoking a joint? Can’t you get arrested for walking around with that thing?”
He disregards my comment with a shrug. “It’s a clove cigarette. Relax. Here, take a drag.” He holds it out and I slap both his hand and “clove cigarette” out of my face.
He only laughs. “You gonna answer my question or what?”
“You didn’t ask one.” I continue walking, wanting desperately to distance myself from Caleb. I need to be alone. I need to think.
“Why you coming from the Omega house?” my cousin asks, throwing down his flip-flops and stepping onto them before we hit the sidewalk and start toward my house.
“None of your business.”
“Whoa! Why are you in such a rush and why do you look so… pissed off?”
Hmmm. He’s pretty astute for someone so high this early in the morning. I march on, determined to ignore him, and catch him glancing back toward the Omega house from the corner of my eye.
I follow his gaze, and I can feel the yearning etched across my face.
“I knew it!” Tyler all but shouts into the cool morning air. “I fuckin’ knew that guy was a douche.” He takes another hit off his joint, and blows the smoke up toward the sky. “I knew it the first time I met that looser trespassing on our property.”
I halt, pivoting on my heel to face him, my arm shooting out to clothesline him. “Trespassing on your property,” I ask so very slowly. “Tyler, what are you even talking about?”
“I finally figured out where I know the guy from. Couldn’t figure it out the other day.”
I clutch the white tee shirt I wore on our date in my arms nervously, wringing it in my hands as I cross my arms, rolling my eyes at Tyler to keep the plead out of my voice. I’m in no mood for his stoner B.S. “Please, enlighten me.”
My cousin scratches his sparse goatee. “He came over that night. Or afternoon.” I sigh, exasperated. “You know. That day you climbed out my window. He came over and wanted your number.”
Stunned, I breathe out quietly, my whole body going still. “What?”
Tyler takes another drag off his joint and blows out a gray, billowy puff of smoke.
I cough dramatically as his small cloud of carcinogens floats in my face, waving the toxins out of my clean air space. He takes one more pull and throws the joint on the ground, grinding it down into the concrete to extinguish it with the heel of his leather sandal. “Yeah. He came over and threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t give it to him.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “What did you do?”
Tyler looks only slightly abashed. “I gave it to him?”
“What! Tyler!” I punch him in the arm and start stalking toward my house at a brisk pace. Tyler hustles to keep up, and when he does, I whack him again. “Why would you do that?”
“Dude, stop hitting me.” He rubs his arm. “That guy is huge, man. I didn’t want him kicking my ass. ”
“So it didn’t occur to you that he’d be a stalker? Or a psycho? Or, gee, I don’t know, a rapist?”
Tyler’s dazed eyes get wide as saucers. “Is he?”
I stop walking to smack him again. “No, you idiot, he’s not.”
“Anyway, dude ain’t right in the head. He reminds me of, I don’t know, a lumberjack. Or a hitman. Or whatever.”
“Don’t be mean. You don’t even know him.”
“When a dude threatens to kick my own ass on my own front porch, I can say whatever I want. Shit, maybe he is a psycho.”
“He’s not a psycho. He’s just an introvert.”
“Why are you defending him?” Tyler puts his arm out and stops me halfway up the block, looking me over from head to toe. “And why are you walking funny? Like you have a rod shoved up your ass.”
Walking funny? Oh crap, am I?
I wouldn’t be surprised. The soreness between my legs from the recent eight hour sex marathon—which is more action than I’ve seen in my entire twenty-one years on earth—probably does have me walking bowlegged. Mortified, I pick up the pace, hoping it will straighten out my stride, trying not to wince when my crotch starts to burn.
Peeing is going to suck.
“I’m not defending him, Ty.” I let out a breath. “Okay, so maybe I am. But so what. I really thought I liked him.”
“Then why did you bust out of his house like you had the hounds of Hell nipping at your heels?”
“None of your business.”
He doesn’t take the hint and follows me up my driveway and into the yard. “Does it have anything to do with why he threatened to kick the shit out of me?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“He said he had something of yours. Guess that’s why he wanted your number.”
I look down at my hand, down at my ring, which sits glistening on my hand in the warm spring sun.
“Dude. If you’re gonna get all girly and weird, I’m gonna split.” He throws me a sullen frown. “Peace out.”
Lost in my own thoughts, I barely hear his retreat, his shoes crunching on the loose concrete driveway.
An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of my stomach as some of Caleb’s pleading words came back to haunt me: “Please, I tried. Don’t be pissed at me,” he’d implored, standing in his bedroom, looking as lost as I’d felt. Then I remember him dragging me outside when Stephan and Weston had started to fight at the rental cabin when we’d been at the waterpark. “Not a fan of conflict, are you?” I’d asked him in private. “No. Not at all, and not this kind of conflict. It gets too… ugly.
” He’d paused. “I don’t mind a brawl on the ice, but that swagger bullshit going on inside? No thanks.”
He hates confrontation, and that’s exactly what I’ve given him, because I was embarrassed and horrified. Not ten seconds after we’d had sex, his friends busted into the room. They have no respect for his hard work around the house, his privacy, and certainly none for me.
And don’t even get me started on how they constantly mock him for being an introvert. And he lets them, like being quiet and observant is a bad thing
Stupid jerks.
I huff loudly, banging through the kitchen door to my house. Why the heck should I be the one feeling guilty? I mean, come on, he is the one who took my ring—and virginity—and didn’t give it back.
What was he doing with it, anyway? Carrying it around in his pocket? Shaking my head as I shove my bedroom door open, I toss myself across the bed, kick off my shoes, and let my feet dangle off the end.
He must have been, because one minute the dresser top had been empty, and the next… he’d emptied his pockets.
But… why? Why was he holding on to it? Why didn’t he just give it back when he had the chance?
It just doesn’t make sense.
***
Cecelia: I don’t know if you recall, but Matthew picked a fight with me about blowies before we started officially dating. Remember?
Abby: Kind of, but not really.
Cecelia: He told me blow jobs were non-negotiable. And I said I didn’t do those, so he broke it off with me. My point is: Guys are CLUELESS. 99.99% of them. And if you don’t cut them some slack for being dipshits… then you’re in for a lot of grief.
Abby: I guess…
Cecelia: I just don’t think what he did is that big a deal. He’s socially awkward, you said so yourself. I personally think you’re punishing both of you for one little screw up.
Abby: So what do I do????
Cecelia: Well, first you give it some time. Give YOU some time. You’ve never had a boyfriend, so it’s normal to feel confused. So. Time. And then… everything will fall into place.
Abby: I hope you’re right.
Cecelia: Trust me.