The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Come on, Theo, think.” I rip at my hair as I use my phone flashlight to navigate my way around. I’m clueless as to whose room I’m searching. The pounding at the door stops as the bass coming from below clues me in.

“Party, you’re at a party.”

I’m in desperate need of a shower, and a possible lobotomy. I wince at the images that break into my psyche like horror film flashbacks every few seconds.

The flash of teeth.

The ripping of skin.

The snarling.

The screams…all mine.

Nothing about this experience is meant to be remembered. I’m sure of it. Procreating with a rabid armadillo was not on my agenda tonight. Maybe I should be thankful I can’t recall much. “Condom. Find the condom,” I mutter, lifting strewn clothes from the floor. “Please God, let there be a condom.”

“We used a condom,” I hear uttered in annoyance from the bed. “You tossed it into the toilet and flushed it.”

Wracking my brain, I nod in agreement. It’s the one memory that comes in clear.

Thank you, God.

Cool, fear-induced sweat slides down my back. “Okay, you uh, want something to drink?”

“No, I want you to stop talking to yourself, it’s freaking me out.”

I stand there staring at her form on the mattress, unsure of how to proceed. I can’t, for the life of me, remember her name. It goes against everything ingrained in me. I’m not this guy. What in the hell was I thinking?

“Should we exchange numbers?”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Still, I feel like I have some male obligation to assure her, of what? I’m not sure. I stand there, gaping at her with a hooked mouth as she lifts the comforter over her head and groans. I’m seconds away from curling into a fetal position.

“Have a good night.” I shut the door with a quiet click behind me and fly down the stairs like my ass is on fire in search of my traitorous roommate. I’ve just screwed up in a major way by treating my virginity like it was a nuisance. Nothing about what happened will be savored for a later date.

“There he is,” Troy salutes me with a Solo cup as I make it to the back porch.

Charging toward him, his eyes widen with his smile when he sees my agitation.

“What the hell, man?!”

Troy chuckles. “She’s a tiger, right?”

“I don’t have any skin left…anywhere!” I feel like I’m bleeding in places one should never bleed. Acid creeps up my throat.

Troy regards me with a shit-eating grin. “It’s time to celebrate.” His eyes light as he barks out orders to the two guys standing next to him manning the keg. “Houseman’s next.”

“No,” I begin to back away, palms up in front of me just as I’m seized. Troy is too far gone to see how pissed off I really am. Then again, what kind of guy willingly subjects himself to the Tasmanian devil to lose his virginity? Me, I’m that guy, and I’m partially to blame for a percentage of it. Desperation is a disease. Lesson learned.

Theodore Houseman’s Colossal College Mistake #1–losing my virginity to a heat-seeking demon.

After a torturous minute upside down while consuming vast amounts of Keystone Light—the last resort keg when the good shit goes dry—I stumble into the yard freshly buzzed. Seeking quiet refuge, I find a soft patch of lawn to land on in front of a dividing hedge. Surveying my person for damage, I’m just about to lay back in the grass when a voice sounds on the other side of the bush.

“No, you don’t get it. I just don’t want this anymore, with you. How many ways do I have to say it?” Silence. “I’m sorry, really, I’m… Oh, well, now you’re just being a DICK!” Her next words come out like an alarm. “DICK! DICK! DICK! DICK!”

Laughter threatens to burst from me, and I cover my mouth to stifle it, but there’s no point because she, whoever she is, is on a tirade.

“Oh, well, that’s rich. You really going to go there?”