by Sara Wolf
“Alright, everybody out,” He clucks his tongue. “Give me some room to work.”
“Try not to kill her,” Miranda winks, and he rolls his eyes in response.
Ranik leaves last and closes the door, and I hear the TV flicker on soon after. Seth’s long, graceful fingers gently clean my scrapes and apply iodine, the sting making me bite my lips, but only for a moment.
“You took quite a spill,” Seth says. I focus on the nearly-naked lady poster on the back of the door and wrinkle my nose. She’s dark-haired and unbelievably buxom, the total opposite of me.
“I don’t normally lose my footing,” I say, pushing the lady out of my mind as I look around more. “I was distracted.”
“You and Ranik do seem to distract each other. He barely took his eyes off you the entire night.”
“I assure you, there were plenty of other women he was looking at.”
“No, not tonight. I’ve only known him for four months now, but I know enough to see when he’s focused on one woman.” Seth says lightly, and pulls a wad of gauze around my thigh. I help him loop it around, and he gauzes my palms, too, closing them off with clasps. He checks my ankle again, and sighs.
“Well, you’ll have to stay off that. I recommend an ankle brace, you can buy them in most drugstores.”
“Thank you for your work,” I say. “But I have classes to get to, and things to do. I have to walk. I can’t stay off it.”
“You don’t have a car?”
I shake my head and bite back the truth – Mom never taught me to drive. She didn’t trust me. She thought I’d take the car to parties, and get pregnant or overdose.
Seth sighs. “Well, try to catch rides and take the bus as much as you can.”
“I will try.” The sudden exhaustion hits me again, this time much harder, and even as I fight it I sag against the pillows. Seth closes up the kit and moves to leave, and I call out.
“Seth?”
He turns. “Yes?”
“Would you tell – would please you tell Ranik I’m sorry for ruining his birthday party?”
Seth smiles wanely. “Sure thing.”
My eyelids drop, and I’m dead to the world.
Chapter 7
Trent turns the TV on, but it doesn’t do shit to cut the tension in the dead-quiet living room. The living room is never dead-quiet. Not like this. There’s always easy talkin’ or a videogame going on or laughter from any one of us. Miranda taps her foot. Trent watches the TV with a determined face.
“Who is she, really?” Miranda finally asks, eyes sharp and on me.
“I told you, she’s my tutor –”
“Bullshit,” Trent says evenly. “We heard you talking. From the sounds of it, you’ve been teaching her things, not the other way around.”
“I’ve been – we’ve been – working on a project together. For school.”
“What class?” Trent shoots.
“You threw a fit,” Miranda interrupts before I can back my lie up. “You saw her dancing with Ned and you threw a nasty fit and dragged her outside. She’s your latest bootycall, isn’t she? I knew it. She must be really freakin’ good in the sack to get you jealous.”
“No,” I clench my fists. “Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand.”
“Then help us understand, Ranik,” Trent murmurs. “Who is she?”
I spit a swear and lean back in the sofa, then lean forward again and mess my hair up. My head hurts. I’m worried as shit about Alice’s wounds, but I can’t go in there and risk buggin’ her. I knew the look in her eyes – always distrustin’ me like most people do, but it hurt more to see it from her. And now? Now she’ll never trust me. I fuckin’ deserve it, though, for being a weird creep and beating off to her, taking pictures of her, getting hard-ons when she’s just trying to show me what she’s learned, what I told her to learn.
This is my karma. I got crazy from the way she ground on Ned for no reason, and chased her off and made her hurt herself. Now there’s no question - she definitely hates me.
I’m definitely not the kind of guy she’d ever like.
“You won’t tell anybody?” I point at Trent and Miranda. They nod. “Because I trust you.”
“We won’t, Ranik. I swear,” Trent says.
“I swear,” Miranda nods furiously. I heave a sigh.
“Alice is in love with Theo Morrison. She asked me to teach her how to nab him. And in exchange, she does all my homework.”
“The radio guy?” Miranda wrinkles her nose. “Who looks like a Ken doll?”
My chuckle is dark. “The one and only.”
“So you’ve been teaching her…what exactly?” Trent asks. I shrug.
“She’s a total noob to datin’. Mostly innocent stuff - hand holding, what panties to wear. Stuff every girl should know but she somehow doesn’t. It’s like nobody ever taught her.”
“More like she had no time,” Miranda murmurs. “I always see her in the library. It’s like she lives there or something. She was probably like that in high school, too.”
“And tonight?” Trent asks.
“Tonight,” I sigh. “I was teaching her about dancin’. Or, Barbara was.”
“And then you went nuts,” Miranda says happily.
“I dunno what that was,” I snap. “So lay off me, okay? It was probably just the booze.”
Miranda laughs and gets up for a glass of water in the kitchen. Trent shakes his head at me.
“It wasn’t the booze, Ranik.”
“Wassat supposed to mean?”
“Not much. Just that, when we drove up and I saw your face…I’ve never seen you that worried about any girl in my life.”
“I’m not fuckin’ worried,” I sit back, laying my arms across the couch and putting my feet up. “Do I look fuckin’ worried?”
Trent’s quiet, then he goes back to watching the TV. Miranda opens a bag of chips and munches noisily, rummaging in the fridge. When Seth comes out of my room and I hear the door click, I bolt up immediately and launch myself over the back of the couch to intercept him.
“So?” I ask. Seth’s face is all serious, but with hints of a smile.
“She passed out. She told me to tell you she’s sorry for ruining your birthday party.”
“Sh-She…she didn’t ruin anything,” I sputter. Seth laughs.
“Tell that to her, in the morning. She needs rest.”
“I can get the air mattress out,” Trent offers to me.
“Nah. S’okay. The couch’ll do just fine.”
“You hate this couch.”
“I said it’s okay, alright?”
Trent puts his hands up in surrender, and turns the TV off, lumbering toward his room.
“Sure. I’m beat, so. Goodnight.”
“Night!” Miranda chirps, breezing past me with a chocolate milk. Seth follows her to their room, patting my shoulder as he passes.
“She’ll be okay, Ranik. Try to get some sleep.”
I flush. “Like I care!”
Seth just chuckles and closes the door to their room. The living room is dark and quiet and finally, sweet-Jesus-mercifully empty. I turn off the lights and clean up Miranda’s chip mess before pulling a blanket out of the closet and collapsin’ on the couch. The springs dig into my back and it’s too small, but s’fine. It’s worth it, if Alice gets a good night’s sleep in my bed.
My bed. Alice in my bed. Even fuckin’ now, knowing she hates me and is injured real bad, my cock ain’t giving up. It springs to life at the thought of Alice in my bed, her hair on my pillow, her legs in my sheets. Cut it the fuck out, dick! She’s banged up!
She isn’t banged up enough, wink wink.
I groan and roll over. I’m not fifteen. I’ve been with too many women to fuckin’ count anymore. Thirty-five? Thirty-seven? I was keepin’ track at the beginning of this year, but I lost it when every girl suddenly decided they liked tattoos and boys with crooked, dumbass grins in college. I’m not a pre-teen and I’m not inexperience
d – I should be way better at not gettin’ a woody. But here I am, excited as sin about the one girl I can’t never have, who’s sleeping not twenty feet away from me in my own bed.
I resist the creepster maximus urge to tiptoe in and look at her. I’ve done enough damage. Best thing I can do now is get better. Get colder, pull back. I gotta be more like her – businessy and professional and distant. I’m just fucking things up by being myself; getting her hurt and ruining the chance for us to even be friends. So I gotta get colder. I can do it. I’ve done it before, I do it with every other girl. Won’t be that hard. Just gotta concentrate.
Just gotta get that mental image of her dancing, swaying her luscious hips, every part of her bouncing in the same way I wanna make her bounce –
I screw my face up and swear into my fist. This is gettin’ ridiculous. Why am I so hung up on one girl? She’s just one girl. She’s just - I pull out my phone and suddenly I’m starin’ at the picture I snuck of her at the café. She’s not just one girl. She’s a great girl. Her smile’s so happy – almost as happy as the one I saw on her tonight as she was dancing. I thought it was Ned who was makin’ her smile like that, but then she told me she was showing me her dance moves, and I realized I shoulda known better. She wasn’t smiling because some sleazeball was up in her grill – she was smiling because she was proud. ‘Cause she was learning real well. ‘Cause she wanted me to be proud of her. And I fucked that up by getting weird.
My hands still remember the exact curve of her hips, the sound of her sigh, and the rose-y scent of her hair. I groan again and pull the blanket over my face. I’m a hundred percent losing it, and I don’t even know what ‘it’ is. She’s always so sad-looking, but when she smiles like that I just lose it even harder.
All I know is I gotta be better. Colder. I gotta. For Alice. For her lessons. I gotta be a better teacher so that someday soon she can nab the guy she really loves.
I gotta stop losing it over her, so she can be happy.
***
My eyes open groggily. The smell of pine fills my nose, and late-morning sun filters in through the windows and onto the plaid bedspreads. Plaid? These aren’t my purple ones. Where am I? Whose bed is this? My heart does a somersault when I realize this is the first time I’ve woken up in someone else’s bed. And when I look around and suddenly remember everything, it stops beating altogether when I realize I’m in Ranik’s. The half-naked poster lady on the back of his door reminds me of how many girls have been in this bed before. I can’t help but note how remarkably plain his room is, and neat. He doesn’t own much – a guitar¸ some books. The only photo is a single picture in a glass frame on his desk of a beautifully elegant, smiling dark-haired woman holding an equally dark-haired baby. Ranik? And his mom?
No, this is wrong. I shouldn’t be here.
I throw the covers off and wince as I stand. Every scrape throbs dully, the gauze on my hands and thighs stained faintly red. I’m still wearing the black dress Charlotte lent me, and my purse is on the bedside table. My phone is full of messages from her, and I quickly text back to let her know I’m alright, and that I’m coming home soon. I turn it off to save battery, and hobble my way out of the door only to be greeted by none other than Ranik, bearing a tray of food.
“Hey!” He smiles. “Good morning, Princess! I know you’re breakfast person. And I thought you could use some energy. Blood loss, and all that.”
I back up and watch as he puts the tray on the bed. There’s orange juice, toast with cinnamon sugar and butter, and sliced pears and strawberries decorated with a bit of pretty basil on top.
“You don’t gotta eat it,” He says quickly, and jingles his car keys. “We can just go right now and drop you off, if you want. Oh, except you might want those to help with the pain,” He gestures to the two advil pills next to the orange juice on the tray.
I squint at the cinnamon toast. “Did you…is that a smiley face made of sugar?”
“Heh. Caught that, did you? My mom always said happy food makes happy stomachs.”
His laugh is light, but his tone struggles, dipping dark for a moment.
“What happened to her?” I ask softly. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
Ranik’s green-streaked eyes catch on the glass framed picture behind me, his mouth drawing tight over itself.
“Walked into the woods one day behind the trailer park, and never came back.”
I’m quiet. Ranik chuckles bitterly.
“Hah, well. That’s not entirely true. She came back. In a bag.”
“I’m…so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Eat. And uh, there’s a change of clothes for you, if that dress is uncomfortable. Miranda’s stuff. She said you could give it back at school. And the shower is right across the hall. If you want.”
He motions to a skull shirt, a pair of black jean shorts, and flip-flops on the end of the bed, and quickly moves to leave.
“I’ll just be waiting out in the living room, whenever you’re ready to go.”
“Ranik –” I say, and he turns. “I’m very grateful. Thank you.”
His eyes spark playfully. “Grateful, Princess? What for? Don’t think this is comin’ for free, do you? This is all one big lesson – etiquette the morning after you spend a night with a dude.”
“Shouldn’t I have been the one to make you breakfast, then?”
“No way. Dude always makes it for the lady. If any guy wants you to make him breakfast after you did him the honor of sexin’, he’s a lazy ungrateful buttmunch. Dump him.”
“What if I want to make him breakfast?”
Ranik smiles. “Then he’s one lucky sonofabitch.”
He leaves, and I consider following him and asking for a ride immediately home, but my stomach gives the greatest growl I’ve ever heard from it. I sit on the bed and eat my toast quietly, laughing to myself at the smiley face in the sugar. Mountford University’s resident playboy makes toast with smiley faces on it. If only they knew. I down the pain pills and eat a few strawberries. He arranged everything so neatly it almost looks like a magazine photo. He must have spent a lot of time on it.
I clutch the change of clothes to my chest. My dress is sweat-soaked and itchy, and I can’t stand another second of it. I wander into the hall. The apartment is seemingly empty except for Ranik, sitting on the couch and texting on his phone. I clear my throat, and he jumps, immediately standing.
“You ready?” He asks.
“I…I wanted to shower first,” I say. “If that’s alright.”
“Oh.” Ranik’s forehead turns a little red. “Sure thing. Take your time. Or, don’t, shit. I…” He starts laughing, and rubs his face. “I don’t know if I’m bein’ too nice again or not. Sorry. Don’t mean to be.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “This is all just a lesson, right? So it’s permitted.”
He brightens. “Gotcha.”
I push into the bathroom and shut the door. It’s crowded with Miranda’s makeup and Seth’s hair combs. Ranik’s many silver rings hang in a clear slip on the door. Trent’s huge towel dwarfs everyone else’s on the rack. I rummage in the closet and find a clean one. I peel my gauze back with soft hisses. The scabs have formed well, but they’re still wet and tender.
The warm water is invigorating, washing away a night of grime and glitter and smoke. I carefully dab a little of someone’s shampoo into my palm and wash my hair. Miranda’s things are the perfect size, if a little small. I re-gauze my injuries and dry my hair as best I can and walk out.
Ranik stands up immediately again, keys in his hand. “You ready?”
“It’s alright. I don’t want to go quite yet, so you don’t have to be so quick to offer.”
“I promised,” He sets his lip stubbornly. “I promised last night I’d take you home right away, so I –”
“I understand. Thank you for being considerate of my wishes. But I’d like to finish breakfast, first.”
I go into the room and bring out th
e tray, placing it on the coffee table between us. Ranik diligently texts on his phone, very focused, and I nibble pear and sip orange juice. He stops to sniff the air, then turns a lighter shade of pink and busies himself with more typing.
“Something wrong?” I ask. He shakes his head, a sudden frown emerging.
“It’s nothin’. Anyway, while you’re here we might as well go over the rest of the lesson.”
“Which is?”
“Pillow talk.”
I quirk a brow. He clears his throat.
“Normally you do that before breakfast, or showers, and while lyin’ in a bed. But, we gotta make do with what we got, so -”
I stand and walk to his room. When he doesn’t follow, I poke my head around the corner.
“Are you coming?”
His voice is carefully-controlled, yet strangled. “Coming where?”
“Authentic learning needs authentic experience. The least we can do is lie down for this pillow talk lesson.”
I go in and sit on the bed, lying on the right side. After a moment, Ranik comes in, looking every bit the part of a sheepish child who might be yelled at at any moment. He sits on the edge of the left side.
“Are you sure about this, Princess?” He asks. I blink at him.
“Of course I am. You are my teacher, are you not?”
“You don’t…last night you said you don’t trust me.”
“I was injured,” I say. “And angry.”
“But you still said it.”
“I tend to say very mean things sometimes. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. You’ve taught me well, and I want to learn more from you.”
This pulls a laugh from him, a laugh that wrinkles his eyes.
“You talk so stiff. It’s like I’m talking to a person from old times or somethin’.”
I recoil, a fire of shame licking at my edges. “I’m sorry, I –”
“Hey,” He says soothingly, finally lying down. “S’not a bad thing. Don’t gotta apologize. It’s…different. In a good way.”
“Other boys don’t share your views.”
“Yeah, well. They’re idiots.”