The ride home is beyond awkward, particularly because I have my arms wrapped around Bash's waist and my thoughts are flooded with the drunken memories of his toned stomach and also because me and Bash haven't shared a single word.
The awkwardness only increases when Bash stops a few houses down from my house, so my parents won't see me I'm sure, and when I turn around to say goodbye he's already speeding off.
As I walk down the street and up the pathway to my front door I try to rack my brain with what I could have done to make Bash so mad.
It's not like he didn't want to have sex with me last night, I mean he is a guy and with tattoos and I'm sure he was planning this since the second I met him. Well he kind of was in a way.
But so was I.
But honestly, he's probably used to the drunken night fling with a girl while I have no background in the field.
So why on earth could he be mad that we slept together last night?
Maybe he regrets it?
My thoughts are interrupted when I walk in the door and immediately I'm ambushed my Mom. My first thought is that she knows where I've been and that I lost my v card. The second is what the hell is she wearing?
Her hair is pulled into a semi messy bun, her makeup has not been put on, and she's still wearing her pajamas. For my whole life I've never seen my Mom come out of her room without looking anything but a wife from Pleasant View.
"It's your sister," she says simply and places the phone in my hand. Then her eyes sweep through my attire and she does something I didn't think she would never do. She smiles and walks away.
I stare at her retreating back with my jaw on the floor.
It takes a couple seconds for me to come back to earth and hear my older sister yelling into the phone. Shaking my head and thinking this whole morning is just some weird dream, I raise the phone to my ear.
"-ie! Sadie! I know you're-"
"Oh god," I yell in pain and hold my hand to my ear to stop the ringing. "Gosh, woman I'm here, I'm here."
I stomp up the stairs and into my sisters bedroom knowing that whenever she usually calls it's for me to check something in her room.
Her squeaky laugh fills my ear and I think back to Bash's laugh, or well if you could call it that.
"Oops, sorry sis."
I roll my eyes and face plant onto Sarah's bed. Everything is the same way she left it. The bed is pushed into the corner of the room and bookshelves cover the walls around it. Dark pink wallpaper with white patterns cover the walls in wallpaper. Large framed photos of Paris, Italy, New York, and England take up all the other space on the walls. Well then there's the random hanging fabric randomly thrown around and her messy desk which resembles a battle field with the needles, sewing machine, fabrics, buttons, and zippers. It looks like a cozy café.
Anyone can tell this room is hers by one simple glance, you can also tell it's been lived in. Which is ironic because as much time Sarah spent in this room stitching up new designs, she couldn't get out of this town fast enough. One day it was graduation and the next she was living in New York City.
"So what's up," I ask her.
"Well," she draws out. "I have something to tell you."
I imagine her jumping up and down with a big grin because that's the type of person she is. Her smile could lighten up a grave yard and her enthusiasm could make people start dancing at a funeral. She always had this spark in her like an eternal flame that could never go out. That's why everyone loved her. That's also why she got out of this town as fast as the road runner, because this town was too dull for her bright light, so off she went to New York.
It's been two years since she's moved and she's only been home a handful of times. She's just always so busy trying to get someone to pick up her designs that she hardly ever has time for us anymore. Not that I mind because I'm glad she's following her dream.
I jump up from the bed and screech, "Are you pregnant?"
"No, no! Oh God no! Calm down!"
I breathe in with relief. Although I love my sister, she's the most un-responsible person I've ever met. One time junior year Sarah was given a fake baby doll to take care of for a week for a grade and she lost it the third day of having it. Not only that but we didn't find it until two months later. It was hidden in the bottom of a bush outside her bedroom window. She still blames it on our dog but the thing is that we didn't have a dog at the time.
"So what's the good news?" I lay back down on her mattress.
"I have an interview tomorrow with New York Times for their new 'ambitious youth' article!"
"No way!" I squeal. "That's amazing! Oh my god, my sister is famous. Can you get Harry Style's number for me?"
Her laugh echoes on the other side of the phone. "Don't get to excited little S, it's only a small article."
"Still! You're going to be in the New York Times! How awesome is that!"
I feel so happy for her, she's one step closer to her dream of becoming a fashion designer. But once I realize that she's having the best day of her life so far, I remember yesterday. Lucas, Bash, the drunken mistake.
My enthusiasm dies down but hers is still high; as always. She blabbers on about her interview but I'm too busy wallowing in my own.
"Okay Sadie, what's been going on?"
I snap back to attention. "W-what? I'm sorry I zoned out."
"I know you did, I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. And since I'm your sister and built in best friend I know you well enough to know that you zone out whenever you're troubled with something. So spill."
I sigh and start to explain everything to her.
"Well you remember Lucas Favero?"
"The guy you've had a crush on since seventh grade when he had the locker above yours? Yeah I remember him."
"Well... keep that in mind when I tell you this."
Twenty minutes passed by and my ear was about to bleed by the amount of squealing it's been taking by my dear sister.
"Oh my god, I can't believe my baby sister lost her v-card to a hot bad boy!"
"It's not all it's cracked up to be," I tell her feeling drained.
Ignoring my comment she says, "And now you can finally get over that tool Lucas! I've never liked him btw, he annoyed me."
"How could he annoy you? You never spoke to him before and also you didn't let me finish."
"Oh no," she says, her enthusiasm fading. "This doesn't sound good."
I take a deep breath and tell her everything that happened this morning. "So I woke up and my memories from the night before came back to me and then Bash woke up in all his naked damn glory and he didn't seem fazed by what happened last night at all and I told him he was a grade A asshole and he started laughing and let me tell you, oh my god I don't think I've ever liked dimples until I saw his, then I got frustrated and started poking him and he started laughing because he's ticklish and he has this laugh... Sarah it's not even a laugh. It's a dying hyena that's been stuck inside his body but damn it was so cute because up until that moment I saw him as this perfect sculpture with nothing wrong with him but then he laughed, truly laughed and... well it's so imperfect that it makes him all that more perfect. But anyways he got all serious afterwards and we got into an argument about who took advantage of who because we were drunk and I was telling him how he knew that I was saving my virginity and he got really mad and said 'if anyone had a reason to be mad it should be me,' or something like that then I asked why he would be mad at me and he ignored me and told me to get on his bike so he could drive me home. Which he did but he never spoke to me again and drove off. Then I walked in the door and Mom gave me the phone and btw she's acting weird today, but anyways I answered the phone and you told me about your interview with New York Times and then you asked what was wrong and now here we are."
I take a deep much needed breath after my non-stop rant.
"I knew you were smart but I didn't think you would recite a whole book for me," she mutters. "Do you need an oxygen tank now?"
"No," I grumble. "I need a heart monitor."
"Well do you want my advice?"
"Yes," I plead.
"This Bash character obviously has feelings for you."
I choke on my own spit and start to lazy laugh. "Sarah, you don't know Bash. He's rude and arrogant and only wants one thing, to get laid. We're only friends, nothing more."
"Friends don't stick their wee wee's into each other's va-jay-jays."
"Sarah," I squeak.
"What? It's true," she mutters. "And why else would he be mad at you? He thinks that you took advantage of him which I'm sorry dear sister but you kind of did."
I gasp. "How could you say that? You're supposed to be on my side! You know how much I love Lucas!"
"Love and admiration are two completely different things. Besides there is no other way to explain last night other then you were heart broken and you used Bash to get over your heart ache. That's considered using him Sadie and if he is the way you describe him as, then he wouldn't care. But he got mad... and hurt."
I groan and start to cruse myself for not grabbing a few aspirins earlier. My head is pounding inside my head like a war drum.
"I can't focus right now big S, my head is beating to it's own drum right now and is about to explode. Can we continue this conversation some other time?"
Sarah laughs. "When you're not hung over?"
"Which will be every single morning in the future. I'm never drinking again."
"Sure." She laughs. "I'll talk to you later little S, tootles!"
"Bye," I mumble and as soon as I hear the other end go dead, I fall into a deep sleep.