The Virgin and the Whore

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Tyler was sitting at his desk in our room when I walked in.

I'd been putting off running into him as much as I could. I had though he would have been at the library or somewhere else at this time. He often studied at Vanessa's place. It kinda surprised me that he was there.

He'd probably been waiting for me.

The problem was, I wasn't sure how I wanted to handle this just yet.

I was still annoyed with him.

The whole hypochondriac thing had been a cataclysm for something else. I could excuse his weird fears. But his last little episode had snapped something in me. And I didn't want to ignore it.

"Are you here to serve me our divorce papers?" I asked and threw myself on my bed, closing my eyes, my arm over them.

"Oh, so we're getting divorced?" Tyler asked. I heard his chair move in my direction.

"Unreconcilable differences," I said and yawned, my eyes still closed. "I love sleep, and you keep interrupting mine. Also, I haven't had sex in weeks because of you."

"Oh, poor Horn-Dog Nikki, he didn't get to have strangers play with his willy," Tyler replied, in a boohoo-poor-you tone of voice.

I scoffed. I didn't want to argue with my best friend. I didn't want to be pissed. But I couldn't help it. "You're slut shaming me and I'm disappointed. These should be my hoe years, I should be passing around town. And you're depriving me of this college experience."

"Do you want to have sex with a bunch of strangers that don't care about you?" Tyler asked, unimpressed.

I opened my eyes, and peeked at him from under my arm. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was looking at me like a disappointed father. Often it was something comforting, to have him—and Vanessa—play the parents role in my life.

But in the last week, somehow, it was becoming annoying to me.

I was annoyed that he felt like he was allowed to tell me what to do and how to live my life, like he knew better than me, like he had some kind of life knowledge that I didn't have.

I'd lived through much more dramatic things than him.

He had no idea what it felt like to lose both your parents. He had no idea what it felt like to have your mother kill herself and think that you were part of the reason why she did it. He had no idea what it had felt like in that car, sinking in the water, thinking you were about to take your last breath.

He knew what I had lived through, but he had no idea how it felt.

He had no right to judge me.

"I want to be left the hell alone to make my own bad decisions," I replied.

"Sorry, I can't allow that."

"Can you please... just stop lecturing me like you're somehow better than me. I know I'm a mess okay. I don't need to be reminded all the time," I snapped.

"Hey, hey, where is this coming from?" Tyler asked, frowning, while I sat him.

I was still sitting on my bed, but part of me wanted to pace the room, or punch something.

"I'm just... I'm really tired okay?" I just said, and ran a hand on my face, trying to calm down.

"Alright, it's okay, you can be tired. And you should always tell me how you feel, you know this."