9. Reese
9
REESE
Dane: have you been thoroughly stuffed?
I nearly drop my phone in utter horror, turning it off when Lilian emerges from my bedroom with her laptop in her hands.
“Which one should I get for Jenna?” She opens her laptop to let me see two expensive rave suits—happy faces patterned on a very strappy piece and wavy tie-dye on the other.
“Um, the second one?” I point to the latter. Both aren’t my style, but I’m relieved we’re talking about something other than Caleb for once.
“Thanks. I need to get my Secret Santa gift dealt with.”
My eyes widen in alarm. I’ve been so distracted with finding a new job and staying on top of my classes that I haven’t been paying attention to anything else. I glance at my calendar, feeling slightly relieved that we’re only two weeks into October before my gut pinches at the idea of Christmas looming around the corner.
I usually plan ahead when it comes to Lili’s present because she always gives me an extravagant gift and I want to be equally thoughtful, but now I wonder if I need to worry about getting Caleb something as well. Money is already tight as it is. All of my scholarships and financial aid have covered tuition, with most of my paychecks going to my rent. Whatever’s left is spent on bills and groceries.
My sister knocks her ankle against mine. “How was your date last night?”
“The music was awful,” I admit. I don't hide things from my sister. Then I trail off, dropping the subject since I don’t want to expand any further on how awkward it was after he brought me home.
There was no stuffing to be had— ugh . I mentally curse Dane Kingsley for putting that euphemism out there in the universe.
I wanted him to come in and see where the night could lead, but my nerves got the better of me and I didn’t even kiss him goodnight. We just talked about our sisters as he walked me up to the door. Then it was just one awkward wave followed by me slamming the door shut in his face. Loud enough that I’m sure anyone could hear it from Pluto.
He hasn’t texted me since dropping me off. Whatever interest he had in me probably died a swift, yet painful death.
“And?” Lilian reaches for a mini bag of potato chips I’ve swiped from the employee lounge and tears it open.
“And?” I repeat nonchalantly.
“What happened next?” she prompts.
“He asked for my hand in marriage,” I deadpan, “and he’s now waiting for a dowry of ten sheep and two goats.”
“Wow.” Her expression turns solemn as she claps her hand on my shoulder. “The best I can do is one goat and two ducks wrangled from the campus pond.”
I crack a smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m guessing nothing happened?” She frowns when I shake my head in agreement. “Really? But aren’t you guys vibing?”
“If we’re vibing, it didn’t happen last night,” I say. “I think he was more into the music than me.”
“He is a music major.”
“True.” I gnaw on my lower lip. “I didn’t have much fun last night. I think I had more fun…”
My sentence dwindles as the actualization dawns on me. I don’t want to tell Lilian I ran into Dane. She already went into another Dane Kingsley is dangerous spiel after the car wash the other day.
I don’t need her to tell me that again. The nasty shiner I saw forming last night was more than enough to warn me to be cautious around him. To stay on high alert.
Racking my brain for something to say, I ask, “What if Caleb isn’t into me?”
“He’s into you,” she says firmly, out of sisterly obligation, I bet. It’s not like she’ll tell me he’s not into me.
“And what if he’s no longer into me because…” I hesitate.
“Because what?”
“I’m not good at this stuff,” I whisper, my voice flat.
“Dating?”
“Yeah… and…”
Her amber eyes sparkle with clarity. “Sex? You’ve never had sex? Never ?”
“The door is right there if you feel the need to announce that to the rest of my neighbors,” I say dryly. “I don’t think the family down the hall heard you.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, offering me an apologetic expression. “But how?”
“I only had my first kiss last year,” I remind her, embarrassment flaring through me. This conversation is excruciatingly painful.
It’s kind of hard to be kissed back home when everybody thinks of you as trailer trash. Even more so with what happened during my senior year of high school. My hand almost goes to my neck, but I catch myself just in time, pressing it flat against my knee instead.
“Are you asexual?” my sister asks. There’s no judgment in her tone. Only curiosity.
I shake my head. Definitely not asexual . Not with the kind of thoughts I have from time to time.
Surprise slackens her features. “Aromantic?”
My head shakes no again. This is one of the most awkward conversations I’ve ever endured, more excruciating than the first kiss I had with a random frat guy—one that was super clumsy and had too much tongue. Maybe it would have been less painful if I liked him. Or if I wasn’t trying to prove to myself and everyone else I’m capable of living my life.
Releasing a sigh, I streak my fingers through my hair and fight my groan. I love my sister, but there are some things I don’t want to talk about with her. I’d much rather walk downstairs and fling myself into the nasty pool than talk about my nonexistent love life.
“I don’t know how to deal with the nerves,” I explain.
“Just ignore it,” she says as if it’s that easy. For her, it probably is.
However, my brain doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t ignore things. It goes from zero to sixty quickly and overanalyzes everything.
“You just need to relax and be comfortable,” she adds.
I realize we’re veering straight into a conversation I’m not enthused to have with my sister. If Lili starts giving me sex tips, I’m flinging myself into the outdoor pool from this floor.
“Go with the flow and?—”
“What do you think I should get Caleb for Christmas?” I hop onto the barstool beside her. “I should start planning now, so I know how much I need to set aside.”
She narrows her eyes, pinning me with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze. I silently barter with the universe to help me out here. Give me the strength to handle her nosy wrath .
“Maybe get him something from the band you guys saw?”
“Ooh. Great idea.” I jot down a list of memorabilia I can look for later. From another artist, of course. He’s mentioned plenty to me in passing, and one of them has to be better than the act he tried to introduce to me last night. I know Caleb’s really into obscure music, and I want to express interest in what he likes, but I don’t think avant-garde experimental screaming is my kind of scene.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells me, setting her laptop down. “I need to pee.”
I nod, prying my phone out of my pocket to search for gift ideas, only to be reminded of Dane’s text message when I see the notification on my lock screen.
Against my better judgment, I respond.
Reese: Nope
I’ve barely opened my web browser when I get a response.
Dane: let me guess, you’re a three dates kind of girl
Reese: No
Dane: damn. FOUR dates? he really likes you if he’s willing to endure all that blue balling
Reese: You think so?
Dane: no shit. I would have bailed after the first one
Reese: Wow. Classy
Dane: don’t waste my time ya know?
Reese: But how can you tell if you’ve connected based on just one date?
Dane: oh we’ll connect in other ways
I blink, blushing immediately.
Reese: Wow
Dane: let me pour one out for blue balls
Reese: OMG. Don't call him that
Dane: apologies, Reese’s Pieces
Reese: And don’t call me that
Dane: bossy
Dane: let me know when the poor guy’s blue balls are no more
Reese: I will not because this is none of your business
Dane: I think it became my business when you asked me for help to get the guy
Reese: I asked for DATING advice
Dane: isn’t sex part of dating?
Reese: You tell me!
Oh crap. I regret those three words the second my finger hits send. Then I shriek in surprise when my phone starts ringing in my hand.
I hit ignore. My phone rings again. I grit my teeth and decline it again. My phone starts buzzing instead.
Dane: WHAT?
Dane: tell me you’re joking
Dane: you’re not going to put the guy out of his misery?
Reese: He’s not going to die
My phone rings for the third time. I answer it with a heated, “What do you want?”
He’s howling with laughter on the other end; I have half an inclination to hang up on him. “You’re telling me you’re not going to sleep with him?”
“This is none of your business,” I tell him flatly. I can hear my toilet being flushed, so I know I need to keep this short.
“Oh, Reese’s Pieces?—”
“Don’t call me that,” I grumble.
“—you’re torturing the guy,” he finishes.
“You think I’m doing this on purpose?” I ask hotly.
“You’re… not?”
“No,” I confirm stonily, wrinkling my nose.
“Then sleep with him.”
“I…” My voice dies, catching in my throat.
His end of the call becomes unnervingly silent. “Wait. Are you putting this off?—”
“Good—”
“—because you’re a virgin?”
“—bye.” I hang up on him, my face burning with unadulterated mortification. Then I groan when I feel yet another buzz in the palm of my hand. A series of them, actually.
Dane: nothing wrong with being a virgin
Dane: everyone is born one
Dane: some people even die as one
Like me, because this virgin is going to die of pure embarrassment right here, right now.
Reese: I’m blocking you
And since I’m a woman of my word, I do so. But not before he manages to send another text to me.
Dane: I can help you out like last time
Even though the rational part of my brain is telling me to delete his number, my curiosity gets the better of me. Scrambling to unblock him, I craft a quick response.
Reese: … How?
Dane: thought you blocked me, Reese’s Pieces
Reese: Don’t call me that
Dane: I’ll give you pointers
Dane: help you seduce blue balls
Dane: then we’re finally even
I think about it. Every sensible, logical fiber of my being knows this is a disaster waiting to happen. Catastrophe is stamped all over it. Alarm bells are going off. Heck, even Lili’s word of advice to steer clear of him rings loudly in my head.
But the curious part of me is interested in what advice he has to offer. Technically, his antics at the car wash helped me land a date with Caleb.
Maybe he can help me land Caleb in general. He’s a guy. Caleb’s a guy. Perhaps he’ll have insight that’s more useful than what Lili has given me so far.
Why not ? my brain whispers. It can’t hurt to take him up on his offer. I hesitate for a millisecond before I text him my response.