“Shut up,” Lexa told him. She smiled at me and pointed at the shot glass on the table. “Wanna join us?”
Her invitation was totally sincere, and I would have been happy to play a round or two. But I could tell Zack didn’t want me there. He didn’t shake his head or give a warning glance, nothing that obvious. He just kind of looked down and away, like there was something on the floor that required his full attention, a dead bug or a speck of dirt.
“Not tonight,” I told her. “Maybe next time.”
*
Amber felt a familiar vacancy taking shape in the pit of her stomach, an empty space that, if something didn’t change, would soon be filled with regret.
It didn’t make sense. Things had been so hot on the dance floor. Their hands all over each other, the easy way they’d moved to the music, the sweet dirty things he’d whispered in her ear.
And now . . . this. No connection at all. Just a strange dick in her mouth and fingers drumming impatiently on the top of her head, like he wanted to get it over with. She glanced up at him, checking in, hoping for a little guidance, but he didn’t notice. He was lost in thought, staring straight ahead at nothing, his expression frozen somewhere between confusion and anger.
She wondered if maybe she’d moved too fast. They’d only made out for a minute or two before she’d decided to go down on him. The kisses had been uninspiring—stiff and distant—and she thought she needed to try something a little more drastic to change the energy.
She was just about to call for a time-out when his fingertips tightened suddenly on her scalp. He pushed into her and gave a soft grunt of approval, his first real sign of life.
Finally, she thought.
She picked up the pace and he responded to the new rhythm, thrusting to meet her. It was encouraging, but also a little worrisome, because she didn’t want him to come just yet. She wouldn’t have minded if she’d thought he might reciprocate with any degree of skill or patience, but Brendan didn’t seem like the type. She’d only ever been with one guy who gave decent oral, and that had been a one-time deal. When it was over, the guy—a wrestler named Angus—never responded to any of her texts, and acted like he didn’t know her when they bumped into each other on campus.
“You like that, don’t you?” Brendan asked in a soft, dreamy voice.
Amber made an affirmative noise, the best she could do under the circumstances.
“You like that big cock in your mouth?”
Ugh. She ignored the question. For some reason, she detested the word cock.
“Suck that cock, slut.”
Whoa, she thought. That was not okay. She tried to tell him, but his hand had slid down the back of her head, and his grip had tightened.
“Suck it, bitch.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t even breathe. He thrust forward again, and Amber started to gag.
*
I mean, I would have understood if it was just Zack and Lexa on the sunporch, but that kid Riley was already there, so it wasn’t like I was spoiling some big romantic moment. I tried to tell myself that Zack was embarrassed by Lexa, but that didn’t make any sense, either. They were at a party together, out in public in their fucking underwear, and they looked like they were having a great time. No, the only person Zack was embarrassed by was me, and I’d done nothing to deserve it, not a damn thing.
Fuck him, I thought.
It wasn’t fair to me, and it wasn’t fair to Amber. She’d been down on her knees for quite a while, giving it a hundred and ten percent, and I could see that she was starting to sweat a little.
Focus, I told myself. Get your head in the game.
Amber was doing a great job, don’t get me wrong, but for some reason I wasn’t feeling it, not the way I had with Becca on the day I left for college. I could almost hear her voice, the way she looked up at me and said, This is your going-away present, and we just kept talking like that the whole time, saying whatever crazy shit popped into our heads.
I know it’s a little sketchy, thinking about one girl while you’re with another, but you can’t control what goes through your head at a time like that. And it worked, you know? I went from zero to sixty in a couple of seconds, and there was no stopping after that. I kept my foot on the gas, the highway wide open in front of me, not a car in sight.
And then Amber punched me in the nuts.
*
It was no accident. She hammered me in the scrotum—a short, brutal uppercut—when I was about ten seconds away from the finish line.
My knees buckled and I hit the floor, curling into the fetal position, waiting for the agony to subside.
“What the fuck?” I said, when I was finally able to talk. “Are you crazy?”
Amber was standing now, hugging herself so I couldn’t see her chest.
“You were choking me,” she said.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I couldn’t breathe, Brendan. I couldn’t even move my head.”
The pain had faded a little, but it returned in a sickening wave. I looked around for a wastebasket in case I had to puke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And don’t you ever call me a slut.” She lifted her foot like she was gonna kick me, but then she put it back on the floor. “I don’t know who you think you are.”
“I was just talking dirty. I thought you liked it.”
“Why would you think that?” Her face was really pink. “You have no idea what I like.”
I forced myself to sit up.
“I’m sorry. I just got carried away.”
“Get the fuck out,” she told me.
“Come on, Amber. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” She grabbed my pants off the floor and threw them at me. “Like a person with self-respect?”
She’d been pretty calm up to that point, but then her mouth stretched out and she started to cry. I could tell she didn’t want to do it—didn’t want to show that weakness in front of me—and she just kind of sniffled really hard and pulled herself together. The tears just stopped. I’d never seen anyone do that before.
“Can’t we talk about this?” I said.
But Amber was done talking. She stood there in her black-and-white panties, hugging herself and shaking her head no, like there was no point in discussing anything with me, like I wasn’t worth the effort.
One Woman’s Story
Amanda waited by the main entrance, doing her best to tune out the usual lecture day jitters and focus instead on her own sense of personal accomplishment, a feeling she rarely got to enjoy in her post-college life.
I did this! she reminded herself. I made this happen!