The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

23. I'm Not Ready to Say Goodbye.

Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes, if you wanted to get technical with it. My eyes were bloodshot, legs aching to finally be uncrossed as the little digital clock on the microwave laughed at me. I was so ready to win this bet...well, for what the bet was even worth anymore. At this point it was all for fun. You could call it a personal victory. The bet had been dismissed by the guys, but it was still taunting me. Call it a guy thing, but I wasn't about to surrender my pride.

The day had dragged for years. I had sat through three classes earlier that morning, practically falling asleep during the boring lectures. The last thing on my mind was advanced trigonometry or what Darwin thought about evolution. I wanted midnight to come and break my invisible chastity belt.

The apartment, as usual these days, was empty. Joe was out with some of his friends and Johnny was staying the night at Christy's, a sure sign he wouldn't be back for quite some time. Alas, as midnight would come around, my celebration would be a solo affair. Oh, well. I liked to think Johnny was out tonight only because he didn't want to face the music come tomorrow morning. Joe...well, his excuse could range anywhere from hooking up to needing space. Regardless of his reasoning, valid or not, both of my best friends had ditched me to wallow in my victory.

Whatever. I had everything I needed and more. It was like a private New Year's Eve party with nobody to suck face with. There were chips, Oreos, other cookies, chocolate ice cream, soda, champagne, and two pandas that I had conveniently forgotten to remove from my jacket during the construction of Lena's panda shrine.  The misplaced runts were officially taking the place of Joe and Johnny for the night. I strategically placed them on either side of myself and sat with my legs crossed in the middle of the sofa with a big bowl of movie theater popcorn.

I'd resorted to popping a DVD into a player and picking out a good scary movie. Thanks to Lena, I'd really gotten into these spooky things. First it was The Ring with that crazy bitch in the well, then some Syfy original involving a rabid moose and a genetically engineered lizard dueling over something not established in the plot line. I was on my fifth bowl of popcorn and had cracked open my second two liter of Diet Coke, engrossed in the poor character development and terrible CGI quality, when a knock shook the door.

My eyes rolled back in my skull, the way they do when a Jehovah's Witness knocks on the door when you're in the middle of something hedonistic. I muted the television and leaned over the edge of sofa. "Don't bother coming in if you don't have food!"

"It's me," Lena's voice sounded from behind the wood, and I stared at the closed door for several long moments, picturing her on the other side of it and what she might look like and why she might be here. The sound of her voice could paint an image worth hanging on the walls, and a part of me didn't even want to open the door so she'd yell at me again.

"What are you doing here," I called back, and climbed off the sofa to unlock  the door.

"Does it matter," she asked, and I cracked the door open just enough to see half of her standing there, lamp light illuminating the disarray of long hair, red lipstick, and impatient eyes. "Hi."

"I'm doing some really important things in here. What do you want?"

"Very funny. Are you going to let me in or not?"

"That depends. Did you bring food?"

Her sandal nudged the door open, and she snaked the hidden half of her around to reveal a pack of Oreos clutched in one hand. I reached for them and she jerked her hand away. "Easy, Fido. Cookies happen when the door opens."

"You drive a hard bargain," I sighed, but pulled the door open for her. She tossed me the Oreos and kicked off her shoes. "Yeah, sure, make yourself at home."