I drop down on the comforter, the empty condom wrapper crinkling under me. I roll over, find it, and toss it on the floor. Now I have that awful spermicide crap on my hands. I should probably shower, but I don’t feel like it. I mash my face into the pillows. The scent of Randy’s cologne lingers. I close my eyes, tingles starting up as I think about the amazing sex.
Sadly, now I know just how mediocre it was with Benji, and how average his dick seems in comparison. I don’t know if all hockey players have giant man rods, but it seems to be the case from what Sunny reports and what I accidentally saw of Alex when I was a teenager.
As I ponder the size of man’s most useful appendage, my phone rings. I pick it up, and my stomach does that fluttery thing. It’s Randy. Calling me. I let it ring twice more before I answer. “Thanks for the rubbery gift.”
“Sorry, ’bout that. I usually clean up after myself, but the interruption made me sloppy. Next time I’ll be the good Boy Scout I am.”
I try to picture Randy as a Boy Scout. All I get is an image of him at twelve with a beard. “Pretty presumptuous assuming there’ll be a next time.”
“You didn’t have fun?”
“It was okay.” I rub my legs together, thinking about how good okay is.
He laughs. “You’re terrible for my ego. You know that, right?”
“If it’s anywhere as big as your trouser anaconda, you don’t need help in that area anyway.”
“Nice backhanded compliment. I’ll take it. How’s Vi?”
“She’s fine now. I think, anyway. It’s hard to tell with her. Alex is worried, but then that’s kind of how he is. I’m sorry you had to leave.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“We can still do dinner tomorrow, if you want.” I let it hang like it’s a question.
“Yeah, about that—”
My stomach sinks, and I get that thick feeling in my throat.
“Something’s kinda come up.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Maybe Randy lied about my performance being a ten out of ten.
“It’s family stuff. Otherwise—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m blowing you off. My dad showed up tonight, and I wasn’t expecting him.”
My relief worries me. “You don’t sound too happy about that. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fine—once he’s gone. He’s kind of an asshole, and I’m not sure how long I’m going to have to deal with him before he takes off, though.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. I would much rather be taking you out.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you it would’ve been hard to pull off anyway? We’re having some kind of retail therapy tomorrow to make Violet feel better, and that’ll probably go all day.”
Randy chuckles. “I’d tell you yes, but that’d be me lying. I guess we’ll have to try again another time.”
“Sure.”
“Maybe the next time I play in Toronto or something.”
“That’d be fun.”
“Don’t feel obligated or anything. I’m having a good time with you, Lily, but if it’s not, like, your thing, or you think it’s getting to be too much, you let me know, okay?”
“Too much how? Like, too many orgasms?” My mouth goes dry, and my hands are clammy.
“Like, it’s getting serious or whatever. I don’t want to make this something it’s not, you know?”
“Right. Of course.” I try not to be offended by the reminder.
“Cool.” He’s so blasé about it. “Sorry about tomorrow. I’ll call if anything changes, ’kay?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I don’t want to get my hopes up.
“Night, Lily.”
“Night, Randy.”
It’s probably better that he can’t take me out for dinner. That’d feel too much like a date instead of it being this casual thing where we bang each other on occasion.
***
I spend all of Sunday shopping with the girls. It’s exhausting. Also, I don’t have money to spend on frivolous crap, especially since I can’t take that dress back anymore. Violet buys us all lunch and splurges on bottles of champagne that cost more than a month’s rent. I’m used to being around Sunny’s family, but this is extravagant.
Violet refuses to go into any bridal shops. She starts itching as soon as we’re within five feet of any store with white dresses. On the way to Victoria’s Secret, we pass a kids’ store with a window display full of those dolls my cousin is always talking about.
“These are so expensive for plastic,” I mumble.
Violet glances at the storefront and starts screaming like she’s being murdered. “Oh my God! Why do they exist?” She puts her hand over her eyes and latches on to Charlene. “Get them away from me!”
“What’s going on?” I ask Sunny, who shrugs at the freakout.
“Maybe she’s really lost it?”
“Stop flailing, and I’ll get you away from the dolls.”
“Don’t say that word!” Violet buries her face against Charlene’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s safe.”
I’m not sure whether it’s comical or not. Sunny and I follow Char and Violet into Victoria’s Secret.
“Okay. We’re good. It’s all bras and panties and sexy things,” Charlene assures her.
“No fluttery eyes?” Violet’s still covering her face.