Authors: Victoria Sawyer
My next thought is that clearly I’m not good enough for him.
Clearly he might want me physically, but there is something about who I really
am that he doesn’t want.
Bastard.
It must be embarrassing to like a girl
like me, a crazy, slutty, attention whore. Maybe she’s already told him about
how fucking weird I am.
Faacccccck no, this sucks!!!
I try to pull my thoughts away from this depressive line
when I notice a group of guys standing against the wall, their eyes following
my body, talking to each other, slight smiles flashing between them. They are
good looking, older guys, sketchy, just the kind to make a slutty not good
enough girl feel even worse about herself, just the right kind to make my goal
of total self-hatred complete. I grab on to Hannah’s hand, touching her,
dancing close, knowing that the guys are watching. Wanting them to watch,
distracting myself from my problems, yet again.
One of them smiles, the cutest, clearly giving me the eye,
his eyebrow lifted as I do ever racier dances, favoring them with a nice view
of my ass as I bend over then slide back up slowly. I smile back and then
thinking about Jared and his rejection of me and how Goddamned depressed I am,
I force myself to be courageous and dance up to them, grinding against the guy
who had smiled, my expression purposely sexy and raunchy. And he’s cute in a
bad boy kind of way, tall and a bit lanky with tattoos all over his arms, his
hat on backwards, eyes blue and smoldering. Maybe someone else could want me?
Fuck
you Jared.
He seems surprised at first, but I don’t care because soon
he’s touching me, smiling, his hands flowing over my body as I grind my ass
against his crotch. Clearly his friends are enjoying it too, laughing and
making comments to me. I mean, really, who doesn’t like to see a slutty little
freshman, bold on alcohol, willing to flaunt herself? It’s bad, terrible even,
but I don’t care, in fact it feels fucking good to be wanted.
Soon one of the guys invites me to go with them to a nearby
room, claiming that they have marijuana and cocaine and that I should come with
them. I bounce back over to the girls with some kind of false cloying happiness
to tell them of my plans and Hannah looks wide-eyed and scared as shit, eyeing
the guys behind me. But I just smile ever wider. She clutches at my arm.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you? Let me come
with you,” she says. Amanda isn’t as concerned but Hannah clearly doesn’t want
to leave me alone. Amanda nods in understanding since she’s known me longer,
giving me a “you’re being wild and out of control” smirk her eyebrow lifted and
we move off, following after the guys into a darkly lit room upstairs across
the hall from the kitchen.
A bowl is already being passed around when we arrive and
someone gets up to close the door and put on music after Hannah and I walk in. The
room is an office, with a desk, couch and coffee table. I sit down on the couch
next to the guy I was dancing with, sitting as close to him as possible. I can
tell Hannah is a bit freaked out, but she sits on the other side of me, not
saying anything, her eyes large as saucers. Some other sketchy dude with scruffy
facial hair, dreads and a backward baseball hat, pulls out a mirror and
proceeds to spill white dust onto the surface, a rolled up twenty dollar bill
in his hand.
Rap music is pumping through the small room now as I take my
hit on the bowl that’s passing me by and then I proceeded to take things a bit
too far by kissing the guy next to me on the neck. My sexuality is all out of
whack, all out of control. I hazily think about how I just want some contact,
some exposure,
some fucking attention
. The mirror is offered to me now
and I’ve never done cocaine before, but it looks like everyone else is enjoying
themselves and I’m drunk and high and maybe a little bump would be okay?
Shit,
why not, how low can I go.
I take the offered 20 dollar bill and follow the first guy’s
example, holding it up to my nose and snorting as hard as I can while following
the little white line of powder. I pull the bill away from my nose, sniff a few
times, almost sneeze and then immediately feel the bump. Whoa…
I’m high
,
on top of the world, heart racing, tripping along but in a good way, and things
are clearer, elevated, crystal.
Shit I feel…vibrant, fucking intense
.
While I’m sitting there pondering these new feelings, the
guys talking around me, I’m zoning for a moment, staring into space, not paying
attention to anything anyone is saying until the music really hits me. It’s old
skool, Notorius BIG,
Hypnotize
, and suddenly the words, the beat pierces
my consciousness. It thumps and I feel like I can’t be still,
I love this freaking
song
. I start to move in my seat, dancing sitting down, when one of the
guys makes a suggestion.
“Dance for us.”
Three simple words and I love this idea. I want to dance on
the coffee table for these guys. I want to do something sexy. Hannah is leaning
back now, her eyes closing just a bit and she no longer seems as concerned. I
get up slowly, holding the edge of the couch with one hand, my drink in the
other and climb on to the coffee table, legs a bit wobbly at first until I
steady myself and start to move slowly.
The music is low and dirty, bumping, and I move, back and
forth, watching the guys sitting around the table, leaned back in their seats,
their eyes barely open, but definitely following me. A few of them shoot grins
to each other, squinting at the light behind me. I swivel my hips, close my
eyes and really feel the music move over me and around me, making me move,
making me feel alive to every sensation, every fluid move of my body. I’m
totally in the zone right now, rockin it.
Fuck yeah, I’m gonna hypnotize
these fuckers.
The beat pulses and I feel like I’m one with it, and things
seem so clear, vivid, alive and I let my body take over and I know I’m dancing
incredible right now, moving in time with the music. I feel so good, I move my
hands over my hips, waist and up under my shirt and finally boldly pull up my
shirt, tearing it over my head and tossing it aside. I’m dancing in my bra and
tight black slut pants, the ones that outline every curve, my black bra
overflowing since it’s just a bit too small.
This feels unbelievable.
I’m on top of the fucking
world. I can’t think about Jared.
Fuck him.
Other guys are interested in
what I have to offer. I sing along with the dirty words, hands on my hips as I
pulse slowly down low, hips spiraling and then flip my hair around, finally
moving back up to standing.
I’m a fucking stripper!
Oh my God
, I
can suddenly understanding why someone might want to flaunt their body,
enjoying the looks I’m getting from the guys, giving each other little smirks,
clearly enjoying the show.
Just as I turn toward the door, hips swiveling, offering
them a nice view of my ass in my tight form fitting pants, the door opens. A
shadowy figure stands there for a moment, staring into the semi-darkness. Then
he walks in very slowly. I assume it’s one of their friends so I continue
dancing, but as he approaches me, his eyes never leave my body and finally move
to my eyes. It’s Jared.
A very serious Jared.
Holy fuck, what the hell is he doing in here?
For a
moment I’m in misery. I stop dancing and just stand there on that coffee table,
hand on hip, hip cocked like a teenager caught by her parents doing something
“bad,” embarrassed yet defiant. Jared walks slowly up to me and puts out his
hand.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my wrist, his large hand
engulfing it, helping me down from the coffee table. And I’m too dazed to argue
and his hand feels so good against my skin, hot and rough. Maybe I don’t want
to be doing this? I turn around, looking for Hannah and see that she’s already
at the door. And then she’s gone. Jared tugs me out of the room, picking up my
shirt where I had tossed it on the floor, leaving behind the blackness, the
drugs, the slutty girl I had become. Or maybe not, because as soon as we’re out
of the room, my words come fast, angry, and flippant.
“Listen,
fuck me
, okay? Just do it. I know you want
to. I know there’s a physical attraction between us that you can’t deny. Here I
am, asshole, what are you waiting for?” I sneer, leaning toward him, my shirt
now grasped in my hand pressed against my heaving chest as I breathe hard with
anger. He looks at me for a moment, lips compressed into a tight line, studying
my face, seeing my anger.
A voice comes from the room we just left. “Fuck you,
McKinley,” and it sounds like the guy I was grinding with on the dance floor. Jared
looks up at the sound for a moment and a twinge of annoyance crosses his face
before he looks back at me.
“I don’t want that with you Victoria, I don’t want to just
sleep with you,” he says, his voice annoyed and low. He pulls me away from the
door, toward another, smaller, room down the hallway. I struggle to pull my
shirt over my head as I stumble behind him, feeling an angry fire building
inside and I’m feeding it little twigs and finally larger branches, fanning it
until it’s roaring, red hot. How dare he say he doesn’t want it! Who does he
think he is pulling me out of that room? I can do whatever the fuck I want! I
don’t need some Goddamned babysitter to tell me I’m being bad! I don’t need
daddy watching over my fucking shoulder!
“Oh really? Is that why you always end up all over me at
some point or other?” I ask sarcastically, trying to play off his comment like
it means nothing to me. I just want to go back to my friends, I just want to
hit him. “You think I’m a huge slut, don’t you,” I finally retort, realizing
that of course this is what he thinks. He’s sure I’m easy and maybe he doesn’t
want easy? I can’t figure it out through my drunken fucked up haze.
“Well, I’ve heard things, seen things. You do always seem to
be with a different guy,” he says his voice tightly controlled and I can detect
some anger there. At these words my anger fire explodes like TNT.
“Oh fuck you, asshole! I guess Stacia’s not a slut?! Yeah
fucking right, she’s been all over you tonight in her teeny little shirt, go
fuckin judge her!” I bite out, turning around and stalking from the room. I
don’t need to stay here and talk to him about this. I’m not interested in
hearing him preach to me about how slutty he thinks I am or about how disgusted
he is with my actions. He doesn’t own me, he isn’t my boyfriend and it doesn’t
seem he’s likely to become him either. He doesn’t try to stop me.
I find Hannah and Amanda in the large room, still dancing
with friends and throwing back drinks. I’ve got a death grip on my new full
blue solo cup of rum and coke ‘cause I need to obliterate what has been said
and what he caught me doing.
Now, I’m focused on drinking and trying to enjoy myself and
I
need
to stop thinking about him. Eventually he comes back into the
room, silver flask in hand, looking cool as ever and resumes his spot by the DJ
table with Ms. Blonde Skank Stacia. She clearly wants his attention and is
dancing with him and I’m not really able to stop myself from glowering and she
clearly can’t stop looking over at me to flaunt that she’s with him.
Fuck
her! Stupid bitch!
Hannah and Amanda have noticed him now and keep shooting
me supportive looks and glaring at him over their shoulders.
“It’s okay, Vicky, he’s being an asshole,” says Hannah,
putting a hand on my arm. I shrug, my eyes tearing up a little, but damn it I
won’t let my emotion about this show. The night wears on and I dance with
different guys and my friends, but I have no attention span for anyone other
than Jared. I hate it because I’m in a crowd, surrounded by people dancing,
laughing, drinking and generally having an awesome time…and I’m this sulky
mess.
Eventually I spot Jared talking in the corner to my
double-ex, the asshole himself, blonde, blue-eyed, too cool, Brad Winter. They’re
leaning against a wall and Jared is smiling tightly as Brad appears to be
telling him some kind of larger than life story.
Typical Brad.
It startles me so much that my stomach clenches into a
little anxiety ball and this is after…
um...I dunno,
a lot of drinks
.
Shit!
I can’t believe Brad is here and not only here but talking to
Jared. I don’t want him to come over and talk to me, I don’t want him talking
to Jared about me. I’m done with his bullshit. I really don’t want to see him,
so I turn around again and try to focus my attention on the girls as I hear
Hannah telling the others about the sketchy guys. I smile missing about half of
it and then take three quick sips of my drink.
God, I need more alcohol to
obliterate this suck-ass night.
But I can’t stop thinking about what a jerk
Brad is, breaking my heart in high school and again in college. At least I’m
over Brad now, although being into Jared isn’t turning out to be much better.
It’s weird because after I see them talking, the next thing
I know Jared is pushing through the crowd in my direction. I try not to look at
him and remain outwardly cool and calm, even though my thoughts are racing. Inside,
I’m wishing he was actually coming to talk to me even if it’s to fight. But it
turns out
he is
, because now he’s standing at my elbow and I almost jump
again, surprised to see him there.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, his voice loud to be heard
over the pumping music. He looks extremely pissed off, his brown eyes darker
suddenly and a bit unreadable in the dim light. I’m not sure what to say.
“Really?” I finally spit out, acting pissed off too. Truthfully,
I’m a bit excited to see what he might have to say. If he says anything at all,
it will have to be better than nothing, unless of course he’s going to lecture
me. In which case, he’s getting a verbal smack down. I follow him out of the
room and up the stairs.