SAVY
“Feel free to grab a shower before you go if you want. I’ll call you,” he says as he walks out the door with barely a glance back.
I stare at the empty doorway in hurt disbelief and then quickly drag the sheet up to cover my trembling, naked body. Hot tears of humiliation burn my eyes. That’s it? That’s sex? My eyes slam closed and I squeeze my eyelids tightly to hold back the tears. I can’t believe I waited for so long. I was probably the only twenty-year-old on campus who was still a virgin. But it only gets worse. The guy I had been desperately crushing on for the last two years, the one I followed all over campus with my eyes and wished he’d notice me - just spent barely ten minutes…deflowering me…and wrapped it up with an “I’ll call you.”
I know exactly what that means. It means he won’t. He won’t call and he won’t look at me again or even spare what should have been a huge moment in my life a second thought.
I don’t even know why I thought it would be some magical experience. Life isn’t like romance novels. I bet the majority of girls’ first sexual experience is awful, painful, and maybe even boring. Only a lucky few, and every girl in a fictional novel, hits that first-time jackpot. I know better. I know the books I read aren’t realistic. I know a shy, unpopular girl like me doesn’t get the guy everyone stares at on campus and wishes he would look their way. But for just a few minutes there, I believed. Being a realist doesn’t make the pain of this experience any better though.
I lay there for a few minutes burning with shame, humiliation, and disappointment until I hear male voices from somewhere in the house and that’s enough to make me roll off of the bed and dive for my clothes. I’ve never dressed so fast in my life but as I’m pulling on my boots I lean over and spot the red bloodstain on his sheets and freeze. I stare at it as those tears threaten again and a half-choked sob falls from my lips. That stain is like a flashing neon sign screaming what a loser I am and I just can’t take it anymore.
My fingers turn into claws and I tear the sheet from the bed, wad it up and stuff it in my oversized book bag. I will not leave the evidence of what happened here for him or anyone else to mock. I’ve had enough of that in my life. If he wants to think I’m some sheet-stealing crazy chick then I’m good with that. Better than him knowing the truth. I practically run from the room, down the stairs to the front door but just as my hand grasps the handle, I hear a bark of laughter from deeper in the house. The words “popped her cherry”and “dead lay”followed by roaring laughter has my face paling and my body starting to shake. I bite back another sob, fling the door open and rush out into the cool fall afternoon.
I hold it all back, every aching emotion that threatens to break me into pieces until I slam the door of my off-campus studio apartment closed and drop to my knees. It all comes out like a raging torrent of self-deprecation. It’s just the latest blow in a long line of not good enough, not pretty enough, not popular enough that I’ve been feeling my whole life. This was supposed to be my year. Everything was supposed to change this year for me. I had spent the summer watching my stepsister shine like the star she is and hardening myself up against my stepmother’s comparisons and digs.
I counted every day down to get back to school with the promise to myself that I was going to change…everything. I had a plan! I was going to stop living in Vanessa’s shadow, stop hiding behind the mask I wear, and really, really start to live for my junior year of university. I was finally going to talk and flirt with Hunter instead of just mooning over him. I was going to cash in my V card and have ALL the O’s the steamy books I read talk about. Go to parties, go to games, talk to people and make friends. THIS WAS MY YEAR! And now, I drag on a shapeless cardigan and wrap it around me, now I’m going to stay hidden in the corner like I have for all of my life and pray no-one will find out how epically I just failed.
I’ll do my thing. Hide in plain sight during the day and then hide behind my mask at night and hope that someday…someday things will get better. I mean…it has to, right? Someday, I’ll be brave enough to take off my mask and be the woman in the cage.
TATE
Icarry the stack of books through the library with a deep scowl on my face. I fucked up and I have no one to blame but myself. Too many game plays studied and not enough literature has left me with the possibility of being benched if I can’t drag my mark up. So many schools give their players a free ride when it comes to grades but Coach Garrison doesn’t play that way. He’s a total fucking hard ass when it comes to riding us about our grades. I’d love to hate the guy over it, but I get it. Too many up-and-comers have been knocked out of the fight with career killing injuries and have nothing to fall back on for the future. Coach might be an asshole but it’s only because he cares about us, on and off the field.
My dad, not so much. The only thing he cares about is where I eventually place in the draft and how many zeros I get on my contract. If I fall behind and get benched even for just one game, he’ll go ballistic. The last thing I need is to have him fly out here. Holidays are bad enough trying to deal with him and all his big-man bully bluster. So, I need to get my ass in gear and get caught up.
I dump the stack of books on the checkout counter, glance over at the clerk, and frown again. I’ve seen her before over the last couple of years. We’ve had a couple of classes together and she’s been clerking here ever since we were freshmen. I think her name is…Sara? She’s always been smiling and friendly as she scans my books in the past which is why I’m frowning. Sara’s staring off at something with the saddest expression. She actually looks…devastated by something. I follow her line of sight and roll my eyes when I spot that douche, Hunter, caging in a giggly freshman girl against a bookshelf. That guy’s a fucking dog.
I turn away, ready to get out of here and get to work on making up my missed assignments.
“Sara, you want to check me out?” I ask her, but she doesn’t even glance my way.
“Hey! Sara!” I call a little louder and her eyes slide my way.
The pain in those big baby blue eyes behind her glasses has me sucking in a breath but I can tell she’s not really seeing me. Fuck, what happened to this girl?
“Are you okay, Sara?”
She blinks a few times and it’s like a mask slips down over her eyes to hide all the emotion that was just in them.
She lets out a sigh and mumbles, “It’s Savy, not Sara,” as she reaches for my stack of books and starts scanning them.
I bite back a wince. “Sorry. I’m Tate.”
Her hands pause in their work and she pushes her glasses back up on her nose as she looks at me with a tilt of her head. Another one of those sad sighs wisps out.
“Tatum Valor. Quarterback, football god, English major, and part of three group assignments with me over the last two years. Yeah, I know your name, thanks,” she tells me blandly before dropping her eyes and going back to her scanning.
Well, I’m an ass. I should know her name because now I do remember that we had done those assignments together. She’s just always so quiet and reserved that it was easy to overlook her. I search for something to say to try and salvage her bad opinion of me but come up blank so, whatever, I can’t be expected to remember every chick’s name. When that sad look covers her face again and she looks past me as Hunter walks by with the still giggling freshman, I track him meeting Savy’s gaze, check the smirk when he sees her looking and the hand he lifts up in a quick wave.
“Hey, Cathy. Good to see you.”
He keeps on walking and when I look at Savy, I see her eyes slam closed tightly as her face turns bright red. She mouths the name Cathy with a shake of her head and her knuckles turn bright white where she clutches one of my books.
“Hey, don’t let that guy get to you. He’s a fucking scumbag,” I tell her, trying to lighten the moment of whatever that just was. I think I hear her whisper “too late” but she takes a deep breath and pastes on a brittle smile and holds up the book she’s strangling.
“One of my favorites! Cathy and Heathcliff, such a profound love,” she tells me brightly with only a small break in her voice.
I just nod so she gets scanning faster. I study her while she works with her head down, her glasses slipping down her nose again. She’s not tall, would probably just come up to my chin. Her dark brown hair is tucked up in a neat bun on top of her head and I try and remember if it’s long or not but come up blank. It’s hard to tell what her shape is with the oversized, navy cardigan she is wearing over a white blouse and corduroy skirt. She’s not a slim girl, she’s got curves but again, it’s hard to really see them under her bulky clothes.
