Cats—it’s an omen.
When you spend most of the weekend making friends with the basin, you vow never to touch an ounce of alcohol again. This is why drinking and being single is a deadly combination. Tequila was to blame. It always is. Nothing ever good comes from doing tequila shots.
Friday night is a huge blur, but I know one thing—I screwed the Jerk in the back of the alley.
Now my life is officially over.
There haven’t been many moments in my life where I prayed a genie would appear and grant me three wishes, but right now, I’m on my knees begging for a magical wish to erase what happened.
The details of our ‘fling’ are a little hazy, and when I say hazy, I mean I don’t remember anything apart from him driving off on his motorcycle without finishing our rendezvous and me vomiting like the exorcist with Vicky trying to salvage my hair.
When I spot the red mark on my neck, a memory of him biting my flesh like a deprived vampire flashes before me, and I shrivel up in embarrassment. I used almost a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the redness down. It takes me back to high school when I looked like a leper dating this jock, Calvin. I was forced to wear scarves during the summer and pulled it off as some new fashion trend. My mother was so gullible.
Vicky apologized a million times for having to visit her parents on Sunday, leaving me to fend for myself and come up with a solution. I figured I’d take the mature approach and ignore him. Then I realized that won’t work, and the only way to face my demons is to confront him head-on. I’ve even gone to lengths preparing a speech. I’ve devised a plan of attack, and after I finish my laundry, the old Presley’s slowly making her way back from her ‘girls gone wild vacation.’
This, in turn, causes me a sleepless night and being exhausted when I wake the next morning. I decide I need to burn the excess energy and pent-up frustration by doing some major cardio at the gym. Trina arrives with Sarah again, and with a quick smile, I pretend to be busy on the treadmill with my headphones, hoping to avoid a conversation. If they catch wind of this, it will make me look just as pathetic as Trina.
With my music on shuffle, I purposely skip past the ballads and settle for some heavy metal as I push myself to ridiculous speeds, almost falling off the machine. Zoning out of my surroundings, the memory of the way he entered me and how my body reacted comes back to me, and a throb between my legs grows. For a split second, I close my eyes, and it’s like a movie replaying in my head.
Bits and pieces.
Piercings.
Wait! Piercings?
“Hey, Presley! You look lost with the fairies. Anything wrong?”
Trina is standing in front of my machine, and it’s a given that I cannot avoid her.
“Just a lot on my mind. You know, work stuff,” I lie.
“I understand. So, listen… about the other day… I’ve decided to speak to Haden one more time, and if that’s it, well… you’re right, I have to let it go.”
His name alone causes my head to contract into a massive migraine.
“Are you sure, Trina? Jerks like him ain’t worth your time. Besides, you know Allan at the front desk? He asked me about you.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “Allan, with the bulging arms?”
I nod. “Seems the shy type. Maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”
She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night.
I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance toward the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh, hell no, it’s a double whammy. There is only one exit unless, of course, I exit through the fire door which, in turn, would cause alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much.
Yeah, except for Friday night.
There you go again.
My brain is working a million miles a minute considering every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind. I’m not mature, and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so I can get my happ
y ending.
I’m pathetic. There are no other words to describe me right now.
This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me, but for some reason, I can’t find any clothes, and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing and leaves me feeling exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.
Trina is busily flirting with Allan, Sarah is in the Zumba class eyeing the cute gay guy next to her, and so I am officially on my own without any friend to save me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I send an SOS text to Vicky.