written by SummerForeverEver
(We are having some spacing issues at the moment and will be fixing it shortly. We apologise for that.)
Sunlight seeped into the room through the white, transparent curtains, and I opened my eyes but then promptly closed them. That was definitely a mistake. Then, like it realized I awake now, my head started pounding and my mouth went dry.
I rolled slowly over onto my back, nausea creeping into the back of my throat as something scraped against the headboard. I was just about naked, only wearing underwear, a black tank top, with a small section of the duvet covering from my shin down to my foot.
Sighing, I tried opening my eyes again. I could feel something tugging at my neck so I reached up, and something poked at my hand.
What the . . . ?
I grasped the tip of whatever it was and then yanked it off of me, holding it out in front of me. It was a blue party hat with glitter glued on, which was falling onto my hands and the sheets.
Chucking the party hat, landing on a dresser, I slowly hoisted myself up and when I was, I realized that there was a hand on my thigh.
It was like one of those moments from horror movies when the model-pretty girl wakes up and then a monster jumps out of the bed, usually a zombie, when you least expect him to.
Of course, no zombies jumped out and killed me but I freaked out anyway. I jumped back, pulling my thigh away and stumbling out of the bed and falling onto the floor.
There, wrapped in the covers like a mummy, was a guy. His head tucked under the pillow, with one arm lying lazily on top, and his other hand lying where my thigh had been.
After falling onto the ground, crushing plastic cups and other party hats, I stood up, just staring at him like he was green or something.
But he was sleeping in the same bed as me so he might as well have been green. In fact, I think I would’ve freaked out less if he were green.
He was shirtless and had one barefoot sticking out of the duvet. Dark hair poked out from under the pillow, and I noticed that he had an unusual freckle pattern on the back of his neck.
For whatever reason, I reached out to touch it. It kind of looked like a star constellation, forming a diamond if you traced it, either that or an upside down triangle. It was quirky, kind of cute, and a little weird all at once.
But when my hand was just an inch away from him, he moaned softly, shifting in the bed and I scurried away, stepping over party cups and hats.
And an open condom wrapper.
When I was certain that he was still asleep, I lifted my foot and picked up wrapper at the edges. It was torn at the top, a jagged tear, and the condom was gone, and I looked at the guy.
No. Freaking. Way.
I dropped the wrapper, realizing that I needed to get out of there. If not because of the naked guy right there, then because I had probably blown my curfew, but mainly the whole naked guy in bed thing.
Grabbing my jeans and high heels, I ran on tip-toes to the door just as the he began to rise, shaking his head, and I dashed out just as the pillow flopped off his head and onto the floor.
As I ran down the stairs, I fished around in my jean pockets for my phone. My phone had to be in there. It just had to be.
My parents were so going to kill me.
I finally let loose, after everyone complained about me being too uptight since me and Damien broke up, and I managed to get drunk, lose my phone and my virginity, and break my curfew in one night.
I was lucky if I didn’t turn into the next Rapunzel or something after this.
Okay, cross out lose my phone because I found it in my back pocket. So now all I did was lose my V-card, drink illegally, and miss my curfew by nearly twelve hours.
But at least I had my phone, right?
Quickly, I dialed Stacy’s number and waited impatiently while the dial tones rang in my ear as I put on my pants and heels, in the dining room. But there were, like, five people sleeping in that exact same room so I wasn’t so bad for only putting on my pants, right?
“Jade?!” I flinched, causing my phone to fall and crash onto the floor. She always had to be so freaking loud. “Jade, where are you?! Have you been kidnapped?!”
I noticed that a guy, wearing not one, not two, but three party hats, lying down on the table, was shooting me a look as I grabbed my phone. “No,” I told her quietly. “I fell asleep, that’s all.”
“Where?” My heels clicked on the floors as I passed through the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. “I was at that party too, you know! And you just—bam!—disappeared!”
I stopped cradling the phone as I looked for my purse. “I can’t explain now,” I told her and I could hear her sigh. “But I will soon, okay. Can you come pick me up?”
“I guess.” She sighed again, the sound drawling out in my ear. “Are you still there? Oh, Jade, pleeeeeeeease tell me you did not sleep on those floors.”
I paused. “I did not sleep on those floors.”
I wasn’t lying, because I really didn’t. I slept in a bed . . . just with someone else in it . . . in my underwear.
“Well, good, because you can get diseases from those floors, you know!”
Diseases. I stopped looking for my purse, even though I already spotted it in the fireplace (what on earth?). Who knows who I slept with? Maybe now I had AIDS or syphilis?
Oh, man, I did not want syphilis.
But we used a condom, right? I mean, even drunk me would think about the possibility of diseases, HIV, pregnancy. . .
Oh crap, pregnancy.
“Can you just get here soon, Stace?” I couldn’t tell her on the phone, not here anyway, and I needed to tell someone, just so she could say something like thinking about HIV and babies was crazy.
“I’m already in my car,” she replied and I sighed. That wasn’t good enough. She needed to be, like, pulling into the driveway before I had a meltdown or something. “I’ll be there in five. Bye”
As I hung up, I heard footsteps behind me and a groggy voice saying, “Hey.”
Whirling around, I bumped into the chest of my ex, Damien, who I could blame this all on. No one said anything about my homebody-ness until after we broke up.
And now I could syphilis or some other disgusting, gross STD.
“Hey,” I said begrudgingly, not meeting his eyes any longer than two seconds. “What’s up?”
I turned away then, but I stayed put. I wasn’t really mad at Damien. I missed him more than I hated him. Or that was, I missed him until I saw Jordan and then it was bye-bye old feelings for Damien.
So the story of us kind of goes like this: we met, we became friends, I liked him, and he liked me back. We started dating, came close to falling in love, and then he got a female lab partner.
He’ll still insist that nothing ever happened but it didn’t matter. She was brunette, beautiful and had big boobs, all the things that made girlfriends freak out. I started panicking that he was cheating on me and he got tired of me not trusting him.
So we broke up.
I could see Damien sticking his hands in his pockets. “Um,” he said slowly. “Nothing, I guess?”
I nodded, nibbling on my lip. Damien showing up wasn’t much of a distraction, or even a surprise since I already knew he came to the party, and my mind started swirling with thoughts of HIV.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a minute. Maybe he saw my eyes beginning to sting.
Nodding again, I looked at him. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”
Damien was a pretty attractive guy, even though he’d fit perfectly with the Island of Misfit Toys. With curly brown hair and black, square rimmed glasses, he looked geeky cute. Usually he wore a T-shirt with jeans with holes in the knees. They drove me crazy.
They did until we started dating, anyway, after that I thought they were a little cute.
“Do you need a ride or something?” he asked hesitantly, turning to me.
I shook my head. “Stacy’s coming to get me . . . so. . .” I pursed out my lips, leaning back on my heels. “Thanks, though.”
“No problem.” He took out his keys and then glanced at me one last time, almost uncertainly. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? We could grab a mocha if you want.”
He smiled at me. It was an inside joke of his he developed while we were dating. He teased me for my addiction to mochas, even though he was usually the one buying them for me.
This was the first time he brought it up since we broke up.
I smiled tensely at him. “That’s nice but I actually have a headache and I feel like I’m going to . . .”
He waited.
“. . . throw up,” I finished then blushed furiously. I didn’t just say that, did I? What was wrong with me? Sure, he was my ex but still. . .
He frowned, scanning me with his eyes. “Throw up,” he repeated, making the blushing even worse. The way he said it.
Jeez, Jade.
“Not now, I mean,” I added quickly, wishing someone would put duct tape over my mouth or something already. “I’m just hung over, you know?”
He nodded slowly. “Ah.”
I sighed, closing my eyes and I sat on the stairs. “Where is Stacy?” I mumbled. She should never let me out of her sight again. I mean, look what’s happened so far?
Damien looked at me, glancing briefly at the door before he walked over to the stairs, sitting a respectable distance away from me. “I’m going to ask this again,” he said, “are you okay?”
I looked at him, realizing that I couldn’t wait for Stacy anymore. “Can you keep a secret?”
He smiled, placing two fingers over his chest. “Scout’s honor,” he told me.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “You were never a scout but you’re a dork.”
Damien dropped his hand, nudging me with his shoulder. “What’s up?” he asked, his face turning a playful sense of seriousness.
“I think I slept with someone last night.”
He paused, which is understandable, I guess. I am his ex and feelings don’t go away after break-ups, right? I mean, I wouldn’t be very happy if he slept with someone either.
“You think?” he asked, brow furrowed.
I dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t remember it happening but . . .” I parted my index finger and middle finger to glance at him. “I woke up in bed with a guy and there’s a torn condom wrapper on the floor.”
“So, you don’t remember anything?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said weakly. “I don’t even know who it was, Damien! What if I end up getting AIDS or something? Or what if I’m pregnant with an AIDS baby?”
Damien bit his lip, like he did when he would try to hold back a chuckle. “Then that wouldn’t be very good,” he said.
I glared at him. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m not laughing!”
“Oh, but you want to!” I turned away, letting out a breath, really annoyed. “You had that same look on your face when your dog knocked me over in the park.”
He sucked in a deep breath, like he was composing himself, or just trying to keep teasing me. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he told me, watching me roll my eyes. “It’s just that your antics are. . .”
I looked at him, and all hints of playfulness were gone and he bit his lip a little, in a completely new way than before.
“. . . amusing,” he finally finished after a moment but it wasn’t what he was going to say, I could tell.
We stared at each other for what felt like a really long time before he began to, “Listen, Jade—” but then the door swung open, starling us both, and Stacy stepped inside.
“Jade?!” she asked and I glanced at her briefly before looking back at Damien, watching as he rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his knees. “You better have a good reason for scaring me like that!”
Damien stood up, clearing his throat. “I should probably go,” he mumbled before brushing past Stacy and walking toward the door.
“So, do you?” she repeated, hands on her lips, staring down at me.
I blinked just as the door closed then turned to look up at Stacy. “Do I what?”
“Do you have a good reason?” she answered, her shiny, red lips in a perfect line. A lot of things about Stacy were perfect, especially her jean size.
I nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah.”
. . .
“Wait,” she said as she stopped stirring her Frappuccino with a purple straw. “So you slept with someone and you have no idea who he is?”
Groaning, I dropped my head onto the table. I didn’t care if I was in public, if I wanted to groan in agony over my one night stand with my head on the table at The Coffee Bean, then I’d do it.
“Was it even a he?”
My head shot up from the table. “Stacy!”
She shrugged innocently. “What?” she asked, sliding the straw across her tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with exploring your—”
“Stop!” I moaned, eyeing a batch of teenage guys, all wearing Madison varsity sports jackets, watching us. “Jeez, Stace.”
She shrugged again, still innocent as always. “Just making sure,” she replied then saw my colorless cheeks. Or that I hadn’t touched my mocha. “Look, we’ll find out who he.”
“How?” What if he didn’t remember anything either? Or worse, what if he did and thought I sucked in bed? After all, I was a virgin. “My life is over,” I groaned.
“No, it’s not, Jade,” Stacy told me flatly, shaking her head. She hated dramatics on anyone but herself. “What do you remember about him?”
I stared at her. “You mean besides that he was naked?”
“Stop that, I’m being serious here.”
I sighed, reaching for my mocha. “He had dark hair,” I offered and she nodded, motioning me to continue. “And, um, freckles on his neck. They formed a pattern, you know, like stars do?”
Stacy gasped, her mouth forming a perfect little O while her eyes bulged to the size of quarters. “Oh, my gosh!”
“What?” I asked, whirling my head around, thinking that maybe someone just walked into the coffee shop on fire or something like that. “What’s wrong?”
“You know who has dark hair and freckles on their neck?”
I stared at her. “Yes, Stacy. I know how many people in the world, let alone Shiloh, that have dark hair and freckles on their necks.”
She ignored this. She was good like that. “Jordan Nathanson!”
The color drained from my cheeks then instantly flooded back as a deep, tomato red blush. I didn’t know if it being Jordan made it better or worse.
Jordan was the first guy and only I liked since Damien. But of course, he rarely noticed me like a normal crush does but we just had our first real conversation last night.
At that party.
“Oh, my gosh,” I muttered as Stacy grinned, giggling.
“Well, at least you know you don’t have syphilis,” she said with a chuckle, bringing her Frappuccino to her lips. “Ooh, what if you do get pregnant! Then you two could have a cute, adorable little baby!”
“Stacy!” Of all the ways I envisioned us coming together and dating and then dying in each other’s arms, this wasn’t exactly how I imagined it all starting.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying,” she told me, “with his hair, your dimples, his eyes, and your nose, you could have a very attractive kid.”
“Do I just come up to him and say ‘hey, slept with you’ or something?”
Stacy made a face, absolutely horrified and to be honest, I kind of was too. “No!” she screeched and one of the teenage guys glanced at us, not that she cared or anything. “You act casual.”
I nodded. “Casual,” I repeated slowly, feeling the weight of the word on my tongue. “Right.”
She leaned forward, her necklace hitting against the table as she stared me in the eyes. “Jade, I’m telling you this as your best friend and as the maid of honor at your future wedding,” she said seriously, “don’t screw this up.”
. . .
Finding Jordan wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought. I knew he liked playing at the arcade since I heard him talking about it all the time to his friends (I eavesdrop, so what?) and I figured, since it was Saturday, where else would he be?
And that’s where I found him, jamming his thumbs into the buttons of Space Invaders. Like the guys at The Coffee Bean, he was wore his varsity jacket, the sleeves rolled up just below his elbow.
He also was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt with his hair was sexily tousled, and seeing this all, even from across the arcade, made my heart race even faster.
What if we really did sleep together?
After I left the Coffee Bean with Stacy, I showered, redid my make-up (natural but noticeable) and changed my clothes. Now I wore skinny jeans, a black and gray striped swoop neck sweater with my leather brown boots.
At first, I wasn’t sure if I should approach him or be subtle and just show up in the same places as him until he looked my way and then I would say something.
You know, be a stalker basically.
I decided to go over to the machine beside his, some sort of fishing game that I had no clue how to play, but before I could even get out my tokens, someone tapped on my shoulder.
Glancing over my shoulder, I put on my casual face, as if saying oh, you’re here? I had no idea at all. “Hi,” I squeaked out and then I swallowed, trying again. “I mean, hey.”
He smiled. “You’re that girl, right?”
I stared at him, wishing I had the guts to say that girl you slept with?
“The girl selling Tic-Tacs,” he clarified, still smiling despite my stupid expression, and I laughed, stupidly of course. “What was it, three dollars a mint?”
I laughed again, nodding. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“That was cute,” he said, flashing me something cute himself, his grin. “I bought, like, ten of those. You said to put the money in your bra.”
My skin turned beat red. I told him to put the money in my bra? Did drinking turn me into a slut or something? What was next? Someone saying I pole danced?
He pointed at my face. “You’re blushing,” he told me, which didn’t help my blushing, by the way. “It’s kind of cute.”
Cute? “Really?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine a tomato with blonde hair and a face looking cute at all.
Jordan smiled, cute little creases forming around his eyes, and he nodded at the fishing machine. “You know how to play that?”
I thought about lying and saying I did, but then realized it was pointless. He’d figure it out on his own watching me play after two seconds.
“Um, actually, I don’t,” I said then laughed, but that made me sound ditsy. “How about you?”
He nodded. “Yup,” he replied and I bit back a smile. “I can teach you, if you want.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Alright.”
. . .
When we left the arcade, me wearing his varsity jacket, the sweet scent of him encasing me, I laughed. “That was fun,” I said, like it had actually been a real date.
He nodded, smiling. “Yeah,” he agreed and then, unexpectedly, reached out to brush back a lock of my hair and my cheeks flamed. “You’re blushing again.”
“I am not.” I kind of liked the way he said it when he’d mention my blushing. It sounded cute that way, and not as embarrassing.
“Yes, you are,” he replied and his fingers laced mine. Oh, my gosh. I couldn’t breathe and I swore you could actually see my heart beating through my skin.
I took another step, hoping he’d follow but instead, he held me back with his hand and I turned. Suddenly, his hand was on my face and he was looking at me in this butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way.
“What are you going to do?” I blurted out, thinking I ruined the moment. I’d be dubbed Asexual because of this.
But it didn’t look like he noticed because he murmured, “Kiss you.”
And then, he did.
That’s when I realized it had to be him. He was the one, hidden under a pillow, hogging the duvet, with freckles on his neck. He had to be the one I slept with.
Why else would he be kissing me now?
On the way home, feeling absolutely giddy, someone texted me. I hoped it was Jordan, even we were just together, but my heart dropped when I saw it was from Damien.
Did you figure out who he was?
I smiled, my thumbs speedily replying, Yup. It was Jordan J
Damien never replied back.
. . .
On Monday, during lunch period, I smiled as I read the texts Jordan was secretly sending me during trig. I was finally beginning to believe that letting loose was actually a good thing. After all, now I had Jordan.
While scooping my baby carrots into a small carton, I glanced at Damien, also in line. He was in front of me, looking to be debating between fries or carrots.
“I say go for the fries,” I said, and he glanced at me, but only for a second. Now that Jordan and I were going out, I felt like we could talk again without it getting weird or anything. “You couldn’t gain weight if you tried.”
It was true. I envied his metabolism, thinking it was unfair to give it to a guy. He could eat whatever he wanted without even gaining an ounce. He used to flaunt this to me.
He pushed up his glasses. “That doesn’t mean I should clog my arteries.”
I shrugged. “You’re a kind of young for that, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied, which was a total lie. Damien was good at remembering useless facts, like how old you needed to be to worry about clogged arteries. “I have to go.”
I watched as he slipped out of the line, tossing his red tray aside before leaving through the cafeteria doors.
After paying for two bags of chips, Sun Chips and regular potato chips, his favorite, I slipped out of the cafeteria too, already knowing where he’d be.
Outside, I found him sitting on the wall, one leg dangling off one side, pursing out his lips. He was swinging his leg when I walked over to him.
“Hey,” I said, and I held out the potato chips. “I thought you’d be hungry.”
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
I sat down beside him, sucking in a breath and then letting it all out. “Are you mad at me?” I asked after a moment, glancing up at him, and fiddling with top of the Sun Chips bag.
Damien looked at me for a long time, sighed, and then took the potato chips. “No,” he said after an eternity, or at least it felt like that.
“Then what’s your problem?” I asked quietly, watching him as he turned his head to look out at the parking lot, away from me.
He shrugged.
“Damien.”
He turned to me. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
I tossed my chips aside. “What about the truth?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why him acting like this bothered me so much. But it just did.
He reached into his pocket, took out two crumbled dollar bills and dropped them in my lap. “Thanks for the chips,” he told me before standing up.
“Damien—” I stopped, and, once again, I couldn’t breathe.
As he stood up, I noticed that on the back of his neck was the diamond shaped freckle pattern.
Just like a stars forming constellation.
“It was you,” I blurted out, and he glanced over his shoulder, pausing. “I slept with you, not Jordan.”
I watched in slow motion as he took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and then sat back down. “Yeah,” he finally said after yet another eternity.
I never even thought it could’ve been him. I mean, yeah, he was there but . . . he was my ex. How could I end up sleeping with him and not Jordan?
But then I remembered everything that happened that night. I talked to my crush, drank, sold Tic-Tacs for three dollars a mint, and chucked my purse into a fireplace.
Was sleeping with my ex really that impossible?
“What happened?”
He looked away, plucking a blade of grass and tearing it apart in pieces. “Jade, I don’t—”
“Damien,” I said seriously. “What happened?”
He ran a hand through his curly hair. “You were really drunk and then you started throwing up in the potted plants.”
I frowned, raising my eyebrows. “And so you decided to sleep with me?”
“No,” he replied quickly, shooting me a look. “That doesn’t exactly scream seductive, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay, go on.”
“I asked you if you were okay and you started crying. I hugged you and then you said you missed me.” He glanced at me, flushed, and then turned away. “Things just kind of happened after that.”
“Oh.” I stared at my knees. I should’ve been disappointed now, right? It wasn’t Jordan after all. It was my ex.
But not just any ex, it was Damien.
Incredibly sweet, nerdy, and quirky Damien.
“I know it was wrong and not the right time,” he said, and I glanced at him shyly. “And when you started freaking out, I was going to tell you but then you thought it was Jordan and. . .”
I nodded slowly.
“And for the record,” he added, “I don’t have AIDS.”
I laughed a little, and he smiled. Then, just because it felt right, I grasped his hand in mine.
He wasn’t Jordan, and he never would be, but it wasn’t until now I realized he didn’t need to be him. He saw me throw into plants, freak out over AIDS babies, and who knows what else.
And somehow, he was still there, interlocking our fingers.
To me, that made him better than Jordan any day.
Glancing at me, he asked, “What about Jordan?”
I smiled slowly. “He’s what I wanted,” I said and he sighed through his nose, taking his hand out of mine. “But he’s not what I want.”
“You just used an oxymoron,” he told me flatly.
“No,” I said slowly, “I used past tense.”
Then, almost hesitantly, he turned to me again and met my eyes. “Then what do you want?”
I smiled again, nudging my knee against his. “I think you already know,” I replied.
“I hope so,” he said, “or else this would be really awkward.” His hand touched my cheek and I closed my eyes, waiting, and then his lips touched mine.
After a moment like this, we pulled back and I smiled. “You knew,” I told him.
He grinned at me and then brought me back to him, our lips meeting once again.
Later, I’d find Jordan and try to explain everything, but as for now, right this moment, I was happy with just smudging Damien’s glasses as we kissed.