“I mean, not outside of pornos, anyway – ”
“SHANNA, would you please stop talking about his thing?” I hissed.
“I’m not talking about his thing, I’m talking about his cock,” she said, relishing my discomfort.
“Then just stop talking, okay?”
She belly-flopped on her bed and then grinned at me like we were at a sleepover. “What’d you do with him?” she asked as she doubled her pillow under her chin to prop up her head.
“We studied.”
“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “If that’s studying, then I like to study every chance I get. What’d you do with him?”
“Nothing!”
She frowned and went all Sherlock Holmes on me. “You didn’t do it, obviously – nobody’s clothes were messed up, and you aren’t sweaty – ”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, keep sayin’ that, maybe you’ll believe it. Did you let him get to third base?”
“We didn’t – ”
I paused, uncertain.
“…what’s third base?”
“Hands down pants or under your bra,” she said excitedly, kicking her legs in gleeful anticipation.
I gritted my teeth. “We didn’t do any– ”
“Second base? Did he feel you up?”
I involuntarily lowered my head the tiniest bit in shame.
“OH MY GOD!” she squealed. “Oh my God, oh my God – ”
Then she twisted the pillow in her hands and whispered, “Did you feel him up, too? …did you touch it?”
I put my face in my hands. I felt like I was going to die from embarrassment. “Shut up, please, just shut up – ”
“OH MY GOD, YOU TOUCHED HIS COCK?!”
I looked at her like I was going to kill her – and then heard a couple of giggles from the hallway. Two women were out in the hall staring at us, big smiles plastered on their faces.
I dashed off my bed and SLAMMED the door shut.
“That was rude,” Shanna muttered.
I stalked back to my roommate and jabbed my finger in her face. “LISTEN – we are NOT talking about this anymore – ”
“Ohhhhh, I’m gonna keep talking about it till you tell me what you did,” she said in a gleeful, bratty voice. “Every detail.”
I sank down on my bed and closed my eyes in defeat. “We… we kissed.”
“What, like, once?” she asked, confused.
“No… for a couple of minutes.”
“Niiiice. Like, side by side? Or was he on top of you like you were going to fuck?”
I opened my eyes and scowled at her. “Jesus, Shanna!”
“I just wanna know!”
I hesitated. When I answered, I looked away too quickly. “Side by side.”
She looked at me out of the corners of her eyes… then slowly broke into a grin. “No you weren’t… oh my God, he was totally on top of you! Was he grinding into you?”
“Please stop,” I whimpered, my hands clutching my hair as I bent over, nauseated.
“Did you feel his ass?”
I didn’t say anything… but I nodded.
Shanna squealed, then sighed.
“He has a great ass,” she said philosophically. Then her tone grew final and resolute. “You gotta do him.”
I lifted my head and glared at her. “I am not ‘doing’ him.”
“He’s got a face like a movie star, a bod like an underwear model, an incredible ass, and a big dick to boot. And he is totally in love with you. You have to fuck him, Kaitlyn. It’s, like, a law of physics.”
“There is no law of physics about this!”
“Yes there is, it’s called… Shanna’s Law.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, it’s like, the hotter the dude, the greater inverse proportion to… your regret if you don’t do him… something like that.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I’m probably gonna fail physics anyway,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But seriously, you already mentally popped the cherry; you should just go ahead and sleep with him.”
“I am not even talking about this anymore.”
“Well if you’re not going to do him for you, then do him for me, Kaitlyn!” she howled in mock pain. “Do him for meeee!”
I gave her the most withering look I had ever given anybody in my entire life.
She just shook her head in rueful amazement. “I don’t get you. You just made out with a hottie I’d give my left ovary to bang, and you’re acting like you ran over somebody’s dog. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I have a boyfriend!” I snapped.
Shanna reached over and pulled her phone out of her purse. “Lucky for you, that problem is easily solved.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Call him and say, ‘Yo, dude, I’m tradin’ up!’”
“I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can.”
“No I can’t!”
She lowered the phone. “Can I say something?”
“If I say ‘no,’ will it matter?”
She completely ignored me and sped right ahead. “I’m sure your ex – ”
“We’re back together again.”
“Which I’m sure will change in three weeks, if the last year is any indication.”
I shot daggers at her. “We’re going to be together after this week – we’re not going to break up anymore – ”
“Whatever. Look, I’m sure Kevin’s a good guy. I’m sure he’s got really great qualities. Maybe he’s super smart, and he’s got a great future, and he’s good to old ladies, and he does all sorts of charity work for orphans, but what I see is an insecure, jealous douche who makes you batshit crazy with his insecure, jealous whining. And when you call him on his bullshit he tries to control you by breaking up with you, and you come running right back to him every single time.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut.
Maybe because they rang true.
But even then, I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t believe them.
What she was describing wasn’t us. She didn’t know Kevin; she didn’t know me.
It still took me a long time to answer, though.
“…all couples have problems.”
“Yeah, but only fucked-up couples have your problems.”
I wanted to tell Shanna that I was never going to be my mother. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t going to do to Kevin what she’d done to my dad.
What she’d done to me.
But I’d never told anyone but Derek… and I didn’t want to tell anyone else but him.
What could I say?
I didn’t have anything to say.
My one huge reason, I couldn’t – wouldn’t – tell her.
I couldn’t win the argument by logic…
…so I lashed out instead.
“What do you know about relationships?” I raged. “You can’t even keep a man longer than three nights.”
Her face darkened. “There’s a difference between keeping a man and wanting to keep a man.”
“Too bad you haven’t figured out how to do either yet.”
The words didn’t make much sense, but the derision and contempt in my voice were plain as day.
Now it was Shanna’s turn to shoot daggers at me. “At least I have sense enough when a man disses me not to come running back and lick his shoes.”
“No, you just lick something else instead.”
She stood up, and for a second I thought she was going to hit me.
But she didn’t.
Not with her hand, anyway.
“At least I don’t tell some guy I love him and then fuck around behind his back,” she said, and walked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
I held it together for maybe ten more seconds.
Then I burst into tears.
She was right.
54
Things
were frosty between us when she came back to the room. We went to bed without saying a word.
They were cold the next morning, too.
I left to took my English exam. I did surprisingly well, considering how badly my studying had been derailed the night before.
When I returned, Shanna was packing up her stuff. Her last exam was over, and she was leaving to drive back to California that afternoon.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched as she completely ignored me.
“…I think I did okay on my English exam,” I volunteered meekly.
“Yay hooray for you,” she said, never looking up.
“…did you do okay?”
She continued to box up her clothes. “Probably not. I’ve already got a 1.9, and I’m sure I flunked Physics… so I don’t think the parental units are going to be too keen on me coming back next year. I think my future has a California community college somewhere in it.”
“…I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Not your fault.” Then she smiled to herself. “Besides, it was fun while it lasted.”
“…I don’t want us to leave on bad terms,” I said.
She looked straight at me for the first time. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be a bitch.”
I bit my tongue.
Do you want to BE right, or do you want to MAKE things right?
I nodded. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff. I’m sorry.”
As soon as I said it, she let go. Real hurt showed in her face. “You know, I live my life the way I want to live it. I sleep with whoever I want to. I get a lot of shit for it – from guys I don’t sleep with… from guys I do sleep with… from girls, from teachers, from my parents… people calling me a slut, people calling me a whore, people calling me a bitch – but I don’t give a fuck about them. They don’t know me. My parents don’t even really know me; not anymore. They just judge me. But I do what I want, and anybody who doesn’t like it can go fuck themselves. But you… I know you don’t want to do what I do, and you don’t want to live your life like I do, and that’s fine… but I thought you didn’t judge me. You were always really nice to me. I thought we were friends. And then you go saying shit like that…”
For the first time in weeks, I felt guilt over something other than Derek and Kevin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just… I was so mad at you. I know that’s not an excuse…”
“You know I only said it because I care about you, right? You know I only said it because I think you’re making a mistake you’re gonna regret, right?”
“What, not sleeping with Derek?”
She smiled. “When I’m 99 years old, I hope I’m gonna look back on some things in my life and say, ‘You know, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did, but God damn I’m glad I did it.’ I have a sneaking suspicion that sleeping with Derek Kane might be one of those things.”
“For me or for you?”
“For either one of us. But you’re the only one with a shot at it, as far as I can see.” Then her smile faded, and she sighed. “But it’s not just that.”
The way she said it made me uncomfortable. “What is it, then?”
“Look… I’m only saying it because I like you, Kaitlyn… but I think you’re making a big mistake.”
“You already said that.”
“Not about Derek. About Kevin.”
I clammed up and crossed my arms defensively.
“You’re right, I don’t know a ton about relationships ‘cause I haven’t had any, really, but I’ve seen an awful lot of other people in them, and I do know a lot about men. And I can tell you that a good guy, a really good guy, doesn’t break up with you all the time when you don’t do what he likes. And somebody who’s right for you, who’s really right for you? They don’t make you miserable the rest of the time you’re together.”
“I’m not miserable when we’re together,” I said defensively.
“Maybe not all the time, but I hear your conversations, Kaitlyn. At least your end. You think I can’t see how stressed he’s made you the last nine months? Come on.”
What she was saying was true.
But it wasn’t the whole picture.
“We’re going to be back together soon – physically back together. It’s going to be better once we’re around each other all the time.”
She sighed. “Maybe. But even if it is, I think you’re selling yourself short. You’re gorgeous, Kaitlyn.”
I blushed as soon as she said it. It was hard for me to take compliments; it always has been.
“No I’m not – ”
“Yeah you are, quit fucking around,” Shanna said tersely. “You’re also smart as hell, you’re funny, you’re… you could basically get any guy you wanted if you played your cards right. And you’re sticking with your boyfriend because why?”
“Because my boyfriend liked me before I was pretty,” I said quietly.
Shanna looked thoughtful. “Okay, if that’s true, then that’s actually a really good reason. But don’t you see, that’s the thing that’s fucking him up now? He started dating a regular girl – if that’s true, which I don’t really believe it is – ”
“It’s true.”
“Okay, fine. But now the regular girl turned into a babe, and he’s not a hunk, and he’s insecure about it, and it’s driving him crazy, and he’s fucking with your head because he’s too stupid to know that you like him for something other than his looks.”
Again, everything she said hit uncomfortably close to home.
“So, what, I should throw it all away just to sleep with Derek? Once? Maybe twice?”
She grinned. “Well, you know what I would do…”
I didn’t smile back. “He’s a player, Shanna. He sleeps with women, and he uses them, and he throws them away.”
“Other women. That’s not the way he looks at you. When he said he loved you – ”
“Don’t,” I said, wincing. To hear those words was like rubbing salt on an open wound in my heart.
“ – I think he meant it. I can tell you this much: I hope I find a boyfriend someday who looks at me the way Derek looks at you.”
“Will you look at your boyfriend the same way, though?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
She grinned. “If he’s built like Derek Kane, I might.”
55
Present Day
I sat there at our table in the lounge, listening to Shanna order some specialty off-menu cocktail, and thought about everything that had happened between us in that dorm room four years ago.
Once she was finished, I told the waiter, “Just a glass of merlot, please.”
“Jeez, you’re a cheap date,” Shanna said as the waiter walked off.
“I don’t have as much money as you.”
“I told you, I’m buyin’ first round. You shoulda got champagne to celebrate. Maybe not Cristal, but…”
“Mm.”
Life had gone well for Shanna over the last four years. Her parents hadn’t let her go back to UGA, so she’d gone to community college, just like she’d predicted. And then she’d flunked out of there, too. Too much partying, too much living life like it was her last day on earth.
However, her other… skills had led to more interesting prospects. She slept with an up-and-coming (pun intended) fashion photographer and ended up in a relationship with him. Because she didn’t have anything else going on, he took her on as his assistant – and she became pretty good at it. When they broke up a year later, she leveraged the contacts she’d made and moved out to New York City. She started working as an assistant making peanuts, but through befriending and partying with models, she’d met some people and snagged a pretty sweet job at a modeling agency. Because she knew photography, she was valuable in that respect, and she was a hell of a people person. Now she had a good salary, shared a small apartment in Manhattan with another woman at the agency, and was leading a pretty nice life for a 23-year-old in the Big Apple.
As oppo
sed to me, who had $50,000 in student loans, no job to speak of, and had to beg my parents for rent money for a shitty studio apartment in Queens.
Which is another reason it had been so hard to turn down the Rolling Stone gig: I was so tired of being a flat-broke failure.
“If you take the gig, you’ll probably be drinking Cristal every night,” she prodded. “Or at least really good bourbon. I hear they like to party hard.”
“I doubt Ryan does.”
“Ha! That’s probably true.” She sighed and propped her chin on her palm. “I hit on two band members before they got rich and famous… and I struck out with both of them.”
“Ryan wasn’t your fault. He was a little too innocent.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “I know. I could’ve taught him a thing or two, though.”
“Or twenty or thirty.”
“See? You can interview me for the article, too. Just call me up and tell me what kind of quote you need – ”
“I’m not taking the job.”
“Why not?!”
“There’s too much… history there.”
“Funny, I was under the impression there was a certain lack of a history there.”
I glared at her. “I can’t be objective.”
“Who gives a fuck?”
“Journalists, that’s who.”
“Fuck journalists. And I say that as someone who has actually fucked a couple of them. You know who doesn’t give a shit about ‘objectivity’? Derek Kane’s fans. They couldn’t care less if you slept with him or not. All they know is he doesn’t give interviews to anybody, but he’ll give one to you.” She paused and reconsidered. “Actually, if they knew about the history between you two, they’d probably want to read your article even more.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Well, true, some of his female fans would want to claw your eyes out… but they’d still drool all over themselves reading your article anyway.”
The waiter came and set down our drinks. I sipped at mine morosely.
Shanna rolled her eyes. “Just go see him and write the fuckin’ article. What are you so afraid of?”
I said it before I even thought about it:
“Giving in.”
She looked at me like I was insane. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
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