18 Ethan
June 2017
Sloane hung up on me. I didn’t blame her, I guess. Why did I have to be the world’s biggest dick and do that over text? Why couldn’t I, for once in my life, just be vulnerable and honest? I owed that much to her, I knew that. I just couldn’t give it to her.
Graham said there was a party at a brother’s house in Wrightsville he wanted to go to, so I decided to join to take my mind off things. I’d love nothing more than to be drunk or stoned right now. After I showered, I threw on a Pike T-shirt, khaki shorts, and Nikes, and found Graham cracking open a beer.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Grab a beer first.” He pointed at the fridge. I cracked open a Miller Lite and took a seat next to him on the couch. “So what happened with Sloane?”
“Did she call you?” I asked.
“Dude, I could hear you on the phone. You weren’t necessarily being quiet.”
“I ended things with her.” I knew Graham wouldn’t give up until I told him. “I just felt like it was unfair to her.”
“What was?”
“Leading her on when I can’t date her. Not to mention the fact that we were long distance when we weren’t even dating.”
“Haven’t we been here before? Why didn’t you want to date her? I get the long distance thing, but I feel like it’s more than that.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t wanna talk or think about it anymore tonight.”
Graham didn’t press me any further. We finished our beers, and once Jake got home from work, we headed to the party. Like most Wrightsville party houses, this one was a run-down shithole, but it was unusually packed for a Sunday summer night.
Before Sloane there were other girls. Of course there were other girls. A lot of them, if I’m being honest. I was constantly surrounded by attractive girls—classes, pregames, parties, you name it, there were at least five girls in the room I’d be willing to sleep with. But that was it. It was always a one-time thing. A one-night stand. I’d go to her apartment, we’d hook up, and then I’d make up some excuse as to why I had to leave so I could sleep in my own bed. Until I met her.
Sloane was different. I couldn’t explain it, but I had this instant connection with her that I hadn’t experienced with anyone else before. She was funny, smart, and cared about everyone around her. Not to mention she was also hot. I enjoyed spending time with her, so much so that I allowed her to get closer than I’d ever let anyone before. She knew almost as much about me as Graham did, except for the reason why I was the way I was. You might be thinking that this was a good thing—opening up, being vulnerable, letting someone in—and sure, maybe to some people it was, but not to me. I let Sloane get too close, and I knew I’d never be able to be the kind of person she wanted, the kind of person she deserved.
I tried to get out of my head and guzzled down two cups full of keg beer before joining Graham at the pong table on the back patio.
“Think we could take you on next?” Two semiattractive girls bounced over, flipping their hair like that would make any sort of difference. They knew we’d let them play.
“How about we switch it up so you have a chance of winning? One of you with each of us?” Graham suggested. “What’re your names?”
“I’m Jamie,” the taller one said.
“And I’m Marissa.”
“Jamie, you’re with me,” I blurted out, trying to channel some sort of alpha vibe. Girls loved a guy who took control.
“Hi, Marissa. I’m Graham.” He was much smoother in his delivery.
“And your name is?” Jamie asked, eyebrow raised.
“Ethan.” Just Ethan, no need for last names at a party, especially with a girl I had no intention of seeing again after tonight.
We played, we won, and then we got comfortable on the couch, where we passed around a bong. When Jamie and Marissa hit the bathroom, Graham and I hit the whiskey—hard. Not my usual scene, but tonight I didn’t want to feel a damn thing.
“Hey.” Jamie slid next to me later, her voice low. “I’m kinda over this party.”
“Same here. Crash at your place?” I tossed out, casual.
Her eyes lit up. “Thought you’d never ask. Let’s walk; it’s close.”
That was easier than I thought.
In my drunken haze and the glow of the streetlights, I tried to take note of Jamie as we walked down the block to her house. She was much taller than Sloane, had medium-length blond hair that had a sort of frizzy curl to it, and dressed like she went to that party asking to be fucked. Cutoff shorts that her ass pretty much hung out of and a white crop top that you could see her nipples through. I wasn’t complaining, but I knew exactly what kind of girl she was.
“This is me.” She pointed to a little white house.
We stumbled in, and some tiny furball started yapping. “Want a drink or something?” Jamie was already halfway to another room.
“I’m good. I’ll just be right here.” I plopped onto her couch and wrangled my phone out of my pocket. I checked my text messages, wondering if any were from Sloane. None. That was to be expected, I guess.
Jamie didn’t play games. She came back, grabbed my hand, and it was straight to her room. I tried not to think too hard as we started kissing. It felt off, kissing someone who wasn’t Sloane, but I was trying to scrub her from my mind, one beer, one shot, one kiss at a time.
I lowered her onto the bed and stripped her clothes off, quickly and efficiently. I wanted to get this over with. I thought this was what I needed, and maybe it was, but something about it still didn’t feel quite right. It was all so mechanical. Nothing had felt right since the Uber drove away from Sloane’s apartment. But it would. It would all make sense one day.