My relationship with Eric is really convenient. I take heavy class loads and require independence, and he never seems to protest like other guys that I dated at the beginning of the school year. When I need to study, or want to spend time with my family or friends, he never objects, largely because he’s often busy himself, so I think in a way he appreciates that I require so little of his time. During school we generally make an effort to hang out once a week, sometimes even less, and both of us seem completely satisfied with the commitment.
Watching Kendall act giddy and anxious all week in anticipation of running into Jameson causes my relationship of convenience to wear on me.
Eric has traits that had originally drawn me to him. He’s nice, smart, and incredibly ambitious. However, I quickly found that I can determine his reaction or words to nearly any scenario. I found this to be another convenient attribute initially and even considered that maybe it was a sign that we share a deeper relationship; after all, isn’t love all about knowing someone so deeply and completely that you’re able to know their thoughts and reactions? It didn’t take long before I found it to be boring, lacking both excitement and passion, each time I waited for him to do or say what I already knew he would. I’d begun to forget how mundane our relationship felt while I was in France, but Sunday had brought that dam of emotions back. His predictability nearly drowned me when he came into the bathroom to say he was leaving early.
“Let’s go find you a rebound,” she cries, shooting me a playful grin.
I lead the way to my car without responding. I don’t need to. We both know I’m only attending this party out of obligation. After nine months I still haven’t cashed in my V-card with Eric; there’s no chance I’ll do it tonight.
It’s not that I believe people should wait for marriage or find the love of their life to have sex, if that’s even a reality. It’s just that I’ve heard all my sisters and many of my friends discuss losing their virginity. Inevitably they all seemed to regret their decision—some within mere hours of completing the deed. I’m beginning to consider that perhaps this is just a side effect of having sex for the first time because although you understand anatomically what happens, you don’t really know what to expect, and it’s supposed to be painful, so really, how can it be anything other than awkward and result in some degree of regret.
Before leaving for France I’d decided that when I returned home I would cash it in with Eric. I half expect a convent to begin contacting me if I hit twenty, still a virgin. Now with cringing each time I analyze mine and Eric’s relationship, and continuing to conclude things are just convenient between us, I’m feeling more reluctant to lose my virginity status; it’s one thing that I hold complete control over.
I certainly haven’t always played by the rules. I can drink any of my sisters under the table, and I’ve done my share of sneaking out and partying, but I realized at a very young age from growing up in a house with five kids that you have no control over most things in life, being the youngest this was especially true at times.
When we arrive at Karli’s I’m not surprised to see a large number of people from high school. Most of them are from Kendall’s class, even though Karli’s a year between Kendall and me.
“Oh my god! Great shoes!” I look over to see Britney Ballard with her round face and short blond hair that’s been subjected to a straightening iron so many times it now resembles the coarse ends of an old, used broom. She smiles at me excitedly and I instantly regret my mental comparison. I don’t want to be judgmental and catty. That’s one of the many reasons I despise being at these parties; they’re filled with lies and fake exchanges. I wipe away my fleeting thoughts and plaster a smile to my face, glancing down at the cobalt blue heels I’m wearing.
“Thanks! I love your dress,” I add before fully taking in the low cut silver dress she has on.
“I’m so glad you guys made it! I heard someone say they thought they saw you guys were home for the summer!”
“Hey, Britney.” Kendall smiles warmly at her and I look on in amazement. She has the uncanny ability to recall people’s names at the drop of a hat. I’m certain it can be attributed to the many social events my mother’s hosted since we were young, but it’s still impressive since I doubt these two have seen each other in years.
“This is like a high school reunion!” Jeanie Ebbs squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. Her dark brown hair falls across my face in a curtain as I hug her, cringing at the reality of her evaluation. She pulls back, smiling widely at me. I’ve always liked Jeanie and wish I kept in touch with her better. Her smile and happy personality has always been contagious and fun.
“Nathan Hudson is here and dear lord he’s gotten even hotter!” I look at her grinning face and notice her glassy expression; she’s already had too much to drink.
Nathan, who I like to call Nate—solely because he hates it—is a stereotypical pretty boy. He’s undeniably good looking: clean cut, perfect white smile, deep tan from hours of being outside shirtless, always adorned with Abercrombie styled clothing. My mom used to tell us it was boys like Nathan Hudson we should seek to date because they were “good boys.”
My mom’s wrong.
Nathan Hudson is none of the amazing things she assumes he is. Rather, he’s conceited, manipulative, and conniving, expecting every girl to want him. Unfortunately most of them did all throughout high school, and it sounds like they still do. Even after sleeping with nearly everyone I know, including Kendall, he somehow has never been labeled a player.
“Who cares about him?” Kendall says brazenly, in true fashion of any scorned woman. I want to remind her again that I didn’t want to come because people like Nate always attend Karli’s parties, but based on the anxious look on her face, I don’t.
“Come on, Ace, take a shot with me for old times’ sake!” Jeanie pleads, tugging on my fingers she’s entwined with hers. I shake my head gently as I give her a small smile.
“Oh, come on, we used to have so much fun! Don’t you remember?” She drops my fingers and sticks her bottom lip out. Five-year-olds are pretty difficult to refuse with this face, twenty-year-olds aren’t.
“Maybe later.” My words don’t need to appease her; she’s already distracted thankfully. I link arms with Kendall and follow her through a web of people.
We stop to talk with several familiar faces about surface topics. Kendall loves this stuff; she’d make a great politician one day if she was willing to wear longer skirts, much longer skirts.
My smile to an old soccer teammate turns into a wince as Kendall’s nails dig into the tender flesh on the underside of my forearm.
“Jameson’s here.” She works to maintain her grip on my arm.
“Ow! You’re like a python with claws!” I use my other hand to physically pull her fingers loose as I glance up in the direction she’s staring and catch a glimpse of Jameson before turning my attention back to freeing my arm.
“Is that why you wanted to come so much?” I ask, eyeing the way her shoulders square and her chest pushes out a bit further as I finally wrench my arm free.
“No! Of course not!” Kendall answers defiantly, but her actions sell her out as she tucks her blond hair behind her ear—a clear indication that my sister isn’t being truthful, at least not entirely. Most people wouldn’t know she’s lying; she can lie with immense conviction and not bat an eye, but years of experience has taught me that she, like all of my sisters, has a nearly indiscernible giveaway.
“How are you going to know if you like the guy if we’re going to avoid him all night?” I ask after we dodge Jameson once again. We’ve been here for two hours, and still she’s refusing to talk to him.