Biker's Virgin

I lifted the lid outside my apartment, just in case. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I took it out, putting the box on the floor. Handwriting in blue ink covered one side of the sheet; a man's writing, if I had to guess – not messy, but not really fine calligraphy, either.

Ron, after all this time, you're still my favorite person to see on a Saturday night. There was something there, and I want to know that you felt it, too. Apologizing for what I did will never be enough. I'll be at our spot every day at noon, ready whenever you are.

It was mine. I knew it was the first word I read. I knew who had sent it, too, even though he hadn't signed his name. I took the box and note inside, leaving them on an end table before heading out again. I didn't want this right now. I was busy. Not only that, I had moved on.

A whole year later after he dumped me for a bullshit reason he could have avoided, and now he wanted to talk. I was pissed getting into my car. It wasn't fair.

Maybe I wasn't as over him as I’d thought that I was since all it had taken to plunge me back into my feelings was him showing up again, but honestly, I had been at least some of the way there. I had made some progress – had started seeing other guys, moved into a new place which he shouldn't have had the address to, gotten my shit together and moved on with my life. This was selfish. He wanted to show up again after a year and act like after what he did, he still had a right to my time.

My annoyance must have been apparent on my face because the man who sold me my textbooks told me to smile, it was summer and a pretty girl like me shouldn't be feeling so down. It wasn't fair. Roman couldn't talk about things like “our spot” anymore. He couldn't drag me back to that place where I had thought everything was good between us because obviously, things hadn't been as good as I had thought.

Peeved, I called Tiffany to see if she was home. I liked living alone but I could see the advantage of staying at home and at times, specifically when rent was due at my place, I envied her a little for staying with her dad.

When I arrived, she yelled at me from inside the house to let myself in. She had been in the kitchen putting groceries away from the shopping trip she had just come home from. I had had breakfast, but I didn't turn down the coffee she offered when she joined me in the living room.

I had never met her mom, but there were signs of her all around the house. Pictures of her on the walls with the rest of the family, carefully placed art and decor that were an obvious woman's touch. Buying a couple ferns for my apartment was cool, but I was looking forward to the day I had a home that I could make into whatever kind of space that I wanted, once I found the right person to share it with.

"Busy morning?" I asked Tiff.

"Dad's got a thing about online shopping. He feels like you have to be in the store to inspect your item before you bring it home," she huffed. She had been trying to get her father to let her get groceries delivered to the house, but he wasn't comfortable with a person he didn't know or trust picking his food out for him.

"Tell him it's just like UPS," I suggested.

"He knows that. He's just stubborn."

"I bet he just does it to make you pay your way," I joked.

"I'd believe that. Neither of us is home most of the day, though, so I guess he sort of has a point, especially when summer session starts up."

"I wish I had been half as dedicated as you when I was a sophomore. Maybe I'd be graduating already."

"Why are you in such a hurry to get out? I think you should enjoy this while it lasts."

"You want me to be paying these loans till I'm eighty?"

"I'm just saying. Once you're out, no more student discounts at the Apple store."

"The student discount at the bookstore today saved me like $20 on a $200 textbook. Bullshit," I complained.

"Textbook? You already went shopping?"

"Just before I came here."

"You didn't wait for me so we could go together?"

"You didn't warn me that I would have to have dinner with my ex after a year of not seeing each other last Saturday, so how about we call it even?" She paused for a second, looking kind of sheepish.

"You're really upset about that, huh?"

"A heads-up would have been nice, that's all I'm saying."

"But would you have gone if I had told you your date was with Roman?" she asked. I thought about it.

"No. I probably wouldn't have gone out for a dinner date with my ex. Met him for coffee at 4 p.m.? Maybe. Had lunch with the two of you and your dad here? Maybe that, too. A date? No. He stopped being that person to me a year ago."

"I'm sorry. I know it wasn't my place."

"You're right, it wasn't."