Contradictions (Woodfalls Girls 3)

“Bite me, bitch. I just like guys.”

“And sex,” I added.

“Yes, so what, Mother Teresa?” She grinned, throwing out her beloved nickname for me.

It wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy sex. She knew that. Lately, I was just more selective about who I fell into bed with. Take Jockstrap Chuck for example. A few months ago, I might have caved and given it up to him. But I was getting sick of the games and acting like someone I wasn’t to keep a guy. I used to be a total boyfriend pleaser, especially back in high school, when I dated the same creep off and on for almost four years. I finally called it quits once and for all about a year ago. The relationship was toxic, to say the least. Years of scathing comments about how I looked or what I did, and then he would push to have sex, only to lay a major guilt trip on me when he felt remorse after we did it. Jackson suffered from a serious case of being a momma’s boy. We’d no sooner done the dirty deed than he would whimper about premarital sex and how disappointed his mother would be. Even after years of putting up with his shit, actually committing to break up with Jackson was difficult. He was my first serious boyfriend. The one I gave my virginity to, or my V-card, as I liked to call it. That was a big deal to me, despite my wild-child persona and the way people perceived me on the outside. It’s not like you can ever get that back, even when the guy turns out to be a douche. Jackson definitely became that and more, telling me when we broke up that I was worthless and that no other guy would ever want me. His words cut me deeply and made me feel like I was lacking. His mom actually threw a party when we were officially over.

After leaving the Jackson mess behind me, I eventually found the confidence to try my luck with guys again, but after a string of disastrous first dates, I began to believe that maybe Jackson had been right. He was as good as I deserved. If not that, then maybe the dating gods were punishing me for all my past sins. Like the time in seventh grade I talked Braxton Fischer into switching the video we were supposed to watch in Mr. Morton’s science class with a porno he had found hidden in his dad’s nightstand. Mr. Morton made the mistake of leaving the room for almost ten minutes before he came back to see two topless, big-breasted girls washing cars on the TV.

“What the hell?” a shocked Mr. Morton yelled as he turned several different shades of red. The class erupted with laughter, and although none of my classmates ratted me out, Mr. Morton knew better and immediately sent me to the office. I could have argued. He had no proof it was me, but my reputation had already been established.

The principal, Mrs. Jameson, called my dad to pick me up, which I thought was odd considering she knew my mom. I finally understood when he showed up and she handed over the video to my dad with a scornful look on her face, like she was repulsed to even be that close to something so unholy. She thought the video was his, but my dad didn’t skip a beat. He didn’t flush with embarrassment or stammer at being reprimanded. Instead, he thanked her and told her he was wondering where he had

left it, leaving Mrs. Jameson looking utterly scandalized.

The only lecture I got on the way home was a reminder that some parents may not want their children to see movies about those kinds of car washes. That was the best thing about Dad. He always understood the person I was, never judging or scolding me. He would simply give reminders and pointers of what a better course of action may have been. I loved both my parents fiercely for their gentle restraints.

I wish I could tell you that was the last prank I ever pulled, but my reign of stunts continued into high school. I would pick a victim and execute my prank with the precision of a surgeon. Dad always said if I would learn to harness that power toward school, I would be a straight-A student. That would have been tragic and a complete waste of fun, in my opinion.

Eventually, I mellowed when I was dating Jackson. He reminded me countless times that his mom would never approve of me if I was always causing trouble. Little did he know, I didn’t want or need his creepy mom’s love.

For that reason more than any other, breaking up with Jackson had been necessary. Our relationship was like a runaway train headed for a brick wall. Unfortunately, none of my relationships after that turned out any better. My friends Brittni and Ashton said I had an uncanny gift of gravitating toward the only jerk in the crowd. I always shrugged off their comments. I dated guys who suited me, which usually meant they were as loud and wild as I was.

“Wow, did she seriously just push that girl’s face into her boobs?” Cameo asked, pulling me back to the present. She stepped closer to get a better look at the two mud-covered girls, who had grabbed the attention of most of the male population at the party. As the crowd cheered the girls along, I noticed everyone watching had their cell phones out to record the wrestling match, so I pulled out mine too.

“You’re not going to post that, are you?” Cameo asked as I moved in closer.

One of the girls shoved the other to the ground and straddled her. “Why the hell not? This is epic on a whole new level.”

“Damn, that’s hot,” a warm male voice said behind me.

I grinned as I turned around, recognizing the voice of my friend Derek. “Really? I can score their numbers for you if you’d like,” I joked.

“Honey, I’m talking about Tall, Dark, and Shirtless over there,” he answered, pointing to a well-toned guy who had removed his shirt so it wouldn’t get splattered with mud.

“Right, here I thought you had suddenly decided to bat for the other team,” Cameo teased Derek, looping her arm through his.

“Sweetheart, you could only wish,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Damn straight,” she giggled. “No pun intended,” she added before frowning up at him. “Why do all the good ones turn out to be gay?”

“So we can have marvelous friends like you two without the mess of a romantic relationship. Just think, if I was straight, we wouldn’t be friends.”

“That’s because we’d be lovers,” I cooed, snuggling up to his free arm.

“I love you, Tressa baby, but you’d scare me in bed,” Derek said, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Oh come on, I’d go easy on you,” I answered, grinding my hips against his leg.

“Don’t believe her. I swear the wall looked like it was going to collapse the last time she had a guy over,” Cameo teased, sticking out her tongue at me as I swiped at her with my free hand.

“Whatever, Wonder Woman,” I said, reminding her of the last guy she slept with, who had a fondness for comic books. He showed up at our apartment one night with a costume from the Halloween store. Usually, I didn’t mind sticking around when Cameo had a guy over, but I had to leave for that one. The truth was, it had been months since I’d even considered being with a guy.

“Hey, what about the dude with the camera? I’m surprised you didn’t take him up on it,” she returned, talking about the last guy who almost made it into my bed until he wanted to record us. He had to go collect his camera and clothes from the yard after I threw his belongings out the window and kicked his ass out.

“Unlike you, I only do high-class porn,” I threw back.

“As stimulating as this conversation is, I’d rather be dancing,” Derek said, indicating the open door of the frat house where the music had been turned up.