16. Arabella
16
Arabella
B y the time we're headed back to Ryker’s place, I'm fucking exhausted. He wasn't kidding when he said I'd be by his side the whole time. We cleaned and prepped until the bar opened and then he handed me the soda gun and I was suddenly the soda girl all night while he, Jake and Roxie poured drinks. Having been a waitress, I'm used to being on my feet for an entire shift waiting on people, but the sheer amount of customers we served was next level. Who knew there were so many people into kinky shit.
I watched them scan wristband after wristband and all it did was remind me of how I skirted the system. During a lull, Ryker made a point to have his best friend and co-owner of the club, Hayes, teach me the reasoning for the two drink maximum and corresponding system put in place to ensure everyone's safety. I'm not sure if he meant for it to cause shame and embarrassment to creep through my body, but I felt it, nonetheless. I want to blame Brad for that too, but he definitely didn’t make me drink that night. That was all me.
I can't believe I asked him to teach me how to be submissive. He must think I’m a stupid, naive little girl. I know that kinks exist, but I didn’t know there was such a large amount of people into them, or that there were labels for different kinks. I do know a lot of things most women my age don't know, though. I know SSRI's can't be stopped cold turkey, you have to wean down from them. I know the difference between mania and severe depression. I also happen to have great time management skills. Most days .
I get that he’s twenty-one years older than me, but I don’t give a fuck. If my mom ever found out, she’d probably kill me–and castrate him, but how would she know? It would be a simple teacher/student relationship. Granted, that teacher is stupid hot and has a body that my literal dreams are made of. It’s like every time I look at him, all I can see are those grey sweats holding onto his round ass for dear life. I’ve never been jealous of pants before, but I’d trade everything I own to be his pants for just a day.
Shaking my head, I chastise myself. Get your shit together, Arabella.
I shouldn’t be bothered that he told me no. I’ve been told no before, but this rejection stings harder than any of those and it makes me wonder if he has reasons he’s not sharing. Does he think I can't handle it? Because, I guarantee I can.
Arabella - Age 15
“What’s wrong, honey?” Mom questions. “Something happen at school?”
I really don’t want to talk to her about this, but she isn’t going to give up until I tell her. We don’t have conversations about boys. And this is the “not fun” kind. The kind where you decide to be brave and ask a guy friend to winter formal and he tells you ‘no’. He was kind about it and let me down easy, but the rejection still hurts like a bitch. I’d like to smother myself with a pillow now, please?
“I’m okay, Mom. I just asked a guy friend to winter formal and he said no. It’s no big deal.” I do my best to placate her so she doesn’t ask more questions.
“Well, if you took better care of yourself, maybe he would have said yes.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She regards me for a moment before answering, “Well–if you lost a little weight, dressed a little nicer and maybe put some effort into your appearance, maybe he would have said yes. Guys like pretty girls, not chubby, frumpy ones.”
It takes all my effort to hold in the tears as her words soak in. Before the first one spills down my cheek, I run to my room–and then they fall freely.
Present Day
I must have zoned out, because we’re pulling into the parking structure and I barely remember the drive. My emotions are all over the place. I need to reign it in and reset quickly, because I can’t let him see me like this. Letting someone see me cry is a vulnerability I can’t handle. But I’m not sure I’m able to mask it either.
Once we’re in the elevator, I feel the emotions tugging at me, like they'll take over any minute if I don’t give them an outlet. So I opt for nonchalance I don’t feel. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for taking me with you. I appreciate it.”
Don’t make eye contact. Do not make eye contact.
As soon as the elevator door opens, I hightail it to the guest room.