“We did it.” I pump my shoulders like it was no big deal, but I can feel my cheeks filling with the fire from last night’s lovemaking. There’s no way those three little words could ever begin to describe what really happened.
“And?” She shakes her head unimpressed with my all-too-brief synopsis.
“Well?” Roxy leans into me, the patches on her face are already clearing.
“You really want to know?” If it’ll help Roxy feel better, I don’t see why not. I honestly don’t think Bryson will mind.
Roxy and Laney both nod furtively as if I were the only person in this room to ever have sex. God—I’m not, am I?
Laney leans in. “We’re like the only two girls on campus who haven’t leaned on his crutch,” she says it serious as death.
“First, that’s absolutely disgusting, and, yet, alarmingly accurate. It turns out Bryson Edwards favorite team member is much longer than a crutch, and I’ve got the friction burns to prove it.”
“Oh, that’s totally normal,” Roxy states, quickly regaining the even tone in her complexion. “I mean the burning—not the crutch.”
“Really?” I’m mildly alarmed. “I love him and all, but I’m not sure I can handle this pain twenty-four seven. How do you live with this?” It’s a wonder anyone has sex at all. Right about now I’m contemplating the miracle of life in an all new light. Women the world over must have some seriously high pain thresholds, either that, or we’rewayovereager to please our man.
“It goes away, genius.” Laney swats me with a pillow. “And, if you do it enough, it never comes back. You were just too shiny and new. I’m sure his body will be a perfect fit over time.”
Over time. I like the sound of that. And, yet, I suddenly wish we were past the Vicodin phase of our relationship.
“Well then”—I toss my hands in the air—“I guess I’ll have to keep at it and let time heal this wound. Although, it’d better heal quickly, I’m not a fan of setting my kitty on fire.”
They break out into cackles.
I fill them in on everything that went down at his house, Annie and his mom—the strange incident with the picture, and bumping into “her” brother. I give a stern look over to Laney because she damn well knows what I’m talking about.
“So—I gave you the ‘deets’ of my special night”—I say, looking right at her—“and now I want you to do the same. Who was she, and what the hell happened?” I glare over at her as a means of intimidation, but I get the feeling not too many people intimidate Laney.
“Her name was Stephanie. And I don’t do people’s dirty work for them. If Bryson wants you to know, he’ll tell you.” She shakes her head. “Look, Baya, I’m sorry. It’s sort of a big deal. I really don’t think it’s my place to say anything. Just know that he’s been self-medicating on any and every girl that would swivel her hips in his direction ever since he arrived at Whitney, but, now that you’re here, he’s hardly the same person.”
“He called me his girlfriend.” I shake my head, with tears pooling in my eyes because Bryson has something so frighteningly sad buried deep inside him, and he won’t let me in. “I know it’s silly, but it made me all kinds of happy.”
“It’s not silly.” Roxy runs her fingers through my hair. “It’sbeautiful. And, it’s nice to know that some guys still believe in the sanctity of a committed relationship.”
That cheating boyfriend of hers clots up the air like some fornicating poltergeist.
I give a hard sniff. “Bryson is amazing.” It comes out a little guiltier than I reasoned, considering I’m gushing over my boyfriend in front of a girl who was just brutally dumped by hers.
“Brysonisamazing.” Laney touches her hand to my shoulder. “Just know that you’re helping him heal, and, when he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you everything.”
When he’s ready. It almost sounds cryptic. What if he’s never ready? How long do I let such a big mystery linger between us?
Hopefully not long. In the meantime, I’d better double down on the ibuprofen. Something tells me this is the type of pain I’m going to come to appreciate.
The week drifts by with Bryson and I stealing kisses while Cole showers—while Cole beds down an entire sorority house in his bedroom (no joke). Bryson and I take leisurely bike rides up to the Witch’s Cauldron before class and hold each other while eating donuts and coffee, but we’ve yet to free my vagina of its inferno of pain by way of his curative friction. And, by the way, that doesn’t even sound sane because it probably isn’t even true. But, nevertheless, I’m up for another session of the lust and thrust, and Bryson Edwards is the only person on the planet I want thrusting anything in my direction.
I’m headed off to my music appreciation class, which isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be, for one, there isn’t a whole lot of appreciating going on as much as there is rabid memorization of classical snippets. I keep having to associate the music to different times in my life when it would actually suit the mood. Like, for instance, the time I was nine and I spotted my parents going at it in their bedroom. It was a trauma that left me bouncing all over the house in a panic because my brain didn’t know how the heck to organize that clusterfuck of information. So, naturally, when I hear “The Flight of the Bumblebee,” by Rimsky-Korsakov, it takes me back to that traumatic day.
A body slams into me on the main thoroughfare in the middle of campus, and I tumble back to find the bumble bitch herself—Alpha Chi’s own—Aubree Vincent.
“Well, if it isn’t little Baya Brighton.” She wrinkles her nose at me like I just let off a foul sent. “Rumor has it you still want in. Is this true?”
“It’s true.” I swallow hard because it’s sort of not, but maybe with me away from my brother, Bryson and I will be free to spend more time together—in my new bedroom.
“I talked to your brother this weekend.” A thin-lipped smile glides across her face. Aubree would be beautiful if she didn’t spackle a vat of foundation and adhere poor defenseless tarantulas to her eyelids for the hell of it.
“He mentioned it.” God, I hope she’s not planning on becoming his latest victim or, as it would more appropriately be—he would be hers. “So when’s this alternative rush taking place? Can my friend Laney join?”
