“Okay, I’m dying to know what happened.” Blaire takes a large sip of her chocolate milk before she sets it on my nightstand. “You said you would tell me when we got home, and we’re home, so spill.” She gives me her pouty face she’s mastered to get what she wants.
“I can’t believe you weren’t there to witness it.” I sip my milk slowly.
“I know! So, tell me.” She crosses her legs and leans forward like she’s a five-year-old about to be told the biggest secret.
I take a deep breath. I need to get this off my chest and Blaire is the only person I can talk to about this. My mom would completely freak out, I would never mention it to my dad, and my brother would want to find this guy to give him a beating.
“I ran into Gerald on my way to the bathroom and he had thisbeautiful woman with him. She was way prettier than me, and she looked at me like I was the dirt on the bottom of her heel, and get this, he introduced her to me as his fiancée.”
“That small dick motherfucker.” She grabs her milk from my nightstand and takes another sip. Blaire’s never had a filter. She’ll tell you how it is, and she doesn’t care who you are or if it’ll hurt your feelings. She has hated Gerald with a passion from the day she met him and has mentioned on several occasions she would love nothing more than to castrate him.
“Be nice,” I start to say, but I'm interrupted when Blaire places her hand on my shoulder.
“Trust me, that was me being nice. He's an asshole. You don't know what it was like to hear you cry yourself to sleep for days.”
I nod because what can I say in response to that—she's right. After we broke up, I spent days lying in bed and crying myself to sleep, wondering if I could’ve done something differently, but knowing I couldn’t have. At least not without compromising my beliefs. I don’t always agree with the way my mom wants me to live my life, but there are parts of my religion I do believe in, and that includes choosing to wait until marriage to have sex.
“Okay, continue,” Blaire insists.
“He asked me if I was seeing anyone and, to save myself from being humiliated, I lied and said I was.”
Blaire grins like a freaking Cheshire cat. She would never judge me or make me feel guilty about anything. It's easy and comfortable to talk to her, knowing I can tell her anything—unlike my mom, who’d have me in a confessional quicker than one could sayHail Mary.
“My little Nevaeh Hansen lying. I feel like I should hug you.” She holds out her arms and I roll my eyes, continuing my story.
“Without looking, like an idiot, I pointed toward the bar and said the guy I was seeing was over there…and to my surprise, Gerald wanted to meet him.”
Blaire’s eyes widen. “What did you do?”
Blush creeps up on me as I remember what happened next. “I walked up to a random guy and kissed him.”
Blaire jumps off the bed with her mouth hanging open, her milk almost sloshing out of the cup. “Are you freaking serious?”
“And he kissed me back,” I whisper excitedly.
“Oh my God! Who are you right now?” Blaire cracks up laughing. She sets her milk on the nightstand and hops back onto the bed. “How was the kiss?”
“It was amazing. It felt like the entire world around us disappeared. His lips were so soft yet strong, making me want to soak up every single drop of him. He consumed every part of me. I felt sparks, Blaire. Real sparks.”
“Was he cute?” Blaire asks, practically bouncing up and down on the bed in anticipation for my response. The woman has been boy crazy since we were in middle school. I remember when her mom bought her her first teen magazine featuring Zac Efron on the cover, and she snuck it over to my house so she could show it to me. My mom walked in and demanded she not bring that filth into our home again.
“He was undeniably beautiful. His dark brown eyes were like warm brownies straight from the oven!” I gush. “And my goodness, with his chiseled jawline and perfectly straight nose, he could be amodel in a magazine. He wore a sharp, expensive-looking black suit that fit his body like it was tailored perfectly for him. And when we kissed, my hands went to his chest and I felt the hardness of his muscles underneath his clothing…”
And now I’m picturing him naked.
Stop it, Nevaeh.
He’s a stranger.
You'll never see him again.
And even if you did, a man like him would never want a Catholic virgin like yourself. He probably has dozens of hot women lining up to get a piece of him.
“Damn, he does sound hot!”
“And strong!” I add. “Right in the middle of our kiss, he picked me up and placed me on top of the bar like I weighed nothing!”
“Shut the front door! I can’t believe I missed all this!” Blaire throws her arms in the air, making me laugh. “Okay, so what happened once you finished your hot and heavy make out session?”
