Karen hesitated.
"Could this get any worse? Just tell me. I want to know who's walking around talking about me behind my back."
"I need to ask first. Did you at least enjoy it? If you had given me a heads up that you were going to do it, I would have given you some pointers.“
“It was supposed to be a private moment between the two of us. You’re going to need to get over the fact that I didn’t tell you,” I say a little irritated. She just comforted me two-seconds ago, and now she’s finding a way to make this about herself.
“My bad, Jules, you’re a hundred percent right.”
“And as far as if I enjoyed it–was I whooping and hollering like you claim you do all the time? Uh, no. It was three minutes of him grunting and me holding my breath until he was finished.”
“Yikes.”
“Exactly–I think you and a thousand Rated R movies lied to me about how wonderful sex supposedly is.”
"Well, it's hard to have an orgasm the first go ‘round."
I have no interest in talking orgasms or technique. I just want to hear the rest of the details about what happened in that room. I need to know what I’m dealing with.
"Who else was there, Kay? That's all I care about. Whose car windows am I bashing out tonight?"
Like I really have the balls to knock someone's windows out. My brothers probably would, but there’s no way I’m ever telling them about this, mainly because they would yell at me first for being so stupid and sleeping with David.
"There was Sarah's brother Ray and two other kids with him I think."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know, but I don’t think they’re from here. If you’re going to stress at all, I think Ray is the one that we have to worry about keeping his trap shut. I mean that is if you're even worried at all."
If I’m worried? Is she serious? Clearly Karen must be trying some reverse psychology crap we learned in class to trick me into believing that this isn't a big deal.
It isn’t working.
"You had sex with yourboyfriend, Jules,” she continues talking. “Three people saw. So what?! Hell, you didn't murder someone. You didn’t sleep with all three of them (not that I’m slut shaming), but it's just not that big of a deal if you ask me.”
While I appreciate my best friend's attempt to downplay this catastrophe, I know what she’s saying is pure and utter nonsense.
"If it wasn't that big of deal, Kay, you wouldn't have skipped class to find me and tell me like it was a matter of life or death. You know it's a big deal. We hang in a small enough circle that everyone is going to find out and everyone is going to talk. Same thing happened to Marion last year, and you see what happened to her.”
“You and Marion are two very different people.”
“Are we? Kids are going to make me out to be the dumb, naive girl who got herself entangled with the 'out of my league' quarterback. It's all so cliche."
"Oh please, you watch too much television. This is just an arrogant jock, with a huge ego, taking advantage of his sweet and trusting girlfriend. I never had him pegged for being capable of doing something this slimy, but sometimes people lose their minds when it comes to sex. I think that's why so many people on this planet are into porn. I’ve got a juicy book to show you by the way. It’s loaded with freaky sex scenes.“
“No, thank you. I’ve come to the conclusion that sex is overrated and should only be used for procreation.”
“What?! I know it seems that way to you now, but sex is actually a whole lot of fun when it's with the right person."
“And you know this how? Through experience, Dr. Ruth?” I ask incredulously. “Look, I thought I had the right person, and like I said before, it was overrated. Look at what a mess having sex with him one frickin' time caused me already."
A freshman girl starts to walk over towards us. She’s looking mostly at me, and I start to think crazy thoughts–like perhaps she knows about what happened between David and me.
“Keep it moving, freshman,” Karen orders.
Her eyes bulge in what I think is a combination of surprise and fright, but then she silently pivots and starts walking in another direction.
“Do you think she knows?” I ask Karen.
