7. Chapter Seven
Today is my first date ever. Fynn gave me some extra corals to buy a new outfit. She’s a Dragon, and Fynn met her at a local social club for Dragon Weyrs last year. She’s a little older, but Fynn said she’s nice enough.
We’re going to a local noodle restaurant. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. Not only is this my first date, I’ve also never kissed a girl. I really hope that happens tonight.
“You ready?” Fynn steps into my doorway, watching me with a smile in his eyes.
Anxiety electrifies my skin, forcing a staccato heartbeat that throbs inside my veins painfully. I double check my black shirt for any lint. “I think so.”
He checks his watch. “You better get flyin’. You’re supposed to meet her in twenty minutes.”
I curse, rushing past him, ignoring the amused chuckle. “It’ll be fine,” I say to myself more than him. “It’s a ten-minute flight.”
Fynn walks with me to the front door. He does that a lot — hovering. This past year, he’s always there, waiting for me to fall apart. To share what happened.
If I never have to think about it ever again, it will still be too soon. This new chapter of my life is about forging ahead. Forgetting what’s happened. I’m better now.
Maybe if I keep repeating it, the words will become true.
Opening the front door for me, Fynn grins. “It’s going to go great. Priscilla is a nice woman. Compliment her; buy dinner; kiss her if she consents.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I mutter, wiping my clammy hands against my pants. The idea of any physical intimacy makes me want to throw up. But I’m twenty. The fact that no one has ever wanted to kiss me is already embarrassing enough. I need to get it over with.
Fynn claps a hand on my shoulder. I pretend it’s okay, but inside, I flinch. “Ask questions about herself. Smile. It’ll be okay. It’s just a date.”
“Easy for you to say,” I shoot back, scrunching my nose. “You don’t have issues getting dates.”
“I’m also older,” he reminds me.
“Old,” I snipe. “You’re old.”
“I’m twenty-five, you dunghole.” He slaps me upside the head, making me laugh. He turns serious. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Got it.” Walking out into the fresh, misty air, I inhale the scent of ripe blossoms. My Dragon instincts immediately process the wind speed, so when I shift and leap into the air, I’m already calibrating.
The flight is only eight minutes, allowing me to arrive early to snag a table ahead of time. I agonize over waiting for her at the door of the restaurant, but there are already groups of people gathering. It’s too big a risk.
The restaurant is nice enough, with dim lighting, candles on the tables, and a fountain in the center of the room. Vines hang from the ceiling, curating an intimate feel.
Even after only seeing one photo of Priscilla, I spot her the second she walks in. She’s a forest green Dragon with lime green hair, hazel eyes, and a slightly upturned nose. A tight-fitting black dress shows off her curves.
I stand, dropping my napkin. Panicking, I lean down to grab it, and smack my head on the table. Cursing too loudly, I rub the back of my skull, giving Priscilla a sheepish grin as she stops in front of me.
“Pretend you didn’t see that?”
She smiles at the request. “See what?”
Exhaling with relief, I hold out a hand. “I’m Trinte.”
Her delicate hand is soft in mine. Long nails brush the inside of my wrist. “It’s a pleasure to put a face to a name. Fynn told me all about you.”
I motion for her to sit. Should I pull out her chair? Too late — she’s already sitting. Damnit. Okay. Get it together.
Laying the napkin back in my lap, I say, “Good things, I hope?”
“Yes. He mentioned you’re training to be a Dragxi?”
I nod, fingers fiddling with the corner of the menu. Should I order for her? Would that make me a dunghole? “In training right now. We’ll work at the same company. His boss said there’s a spot ready when my training is up.”
“How interesting,” she says, sounding wholly uninterested while scanning the menu options. My knee jiggles and a bead of sweat rolls down my spine.
“So …” Fuck. I’m already messing this up. Priscilla looks up when I don’t say anything else. In a rush, I say, “What do you do?”
“I’m actually a teacher.”
“Oh?” I try to sound interested. “What do you teach?”
“Kids, mostly.”
“Ah, okay.”
I lift the menu, also trying to look busy. I nearly weep with joy when the waiter stops, looking down his bulbous Orc nose to peer at us. “Hello. I’m Viktur. I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I get you started with some drinks?”
I was going to say I’m too young to drink, but Priscilla smoothly interrupts. “Yes, let’s get two martinis, please.”
The waiter dips his head. “Of course. Please take your time looking at the menu, and I’ll take your order momentarily.”
When the Orc is out of earshot, I whisper, “I’m too young. Did Fynn tell you how old I am?”
Priscilla giggles. “It’s fine. I’m twenty-two. There’s not a big age difference there.”
Unsure how her age has anything to do with the legality of my drinking, I give a tight smile. I don’t want to get into trouble. It’ll get back to Fynn and he’ll be disappointed in me. I’ll pretend to drink, but I don’t actually have to.
Conversation continues to be difficult. She’s not as engaging as I’d hoped, so there’s nothing to balance out my awkward questions. Out of desperation, I ask what’s her favorite fruit. She merely looks at me with amusement, says grapefruits, and keeps reading the menu.
By the time the glass of vodka is in front of me, it’s a relief to do something with my hands and mouth.
Priscilla gasps, pointing over my shoulder. “Is that a Centaur? I’ve never seen one before!”
Twisting in my chair, I search for a Centaur, but don’t see one. Turning back to her, I frown. “I don’t see one.”
She shrugs, lifting the martini to her lips. “It’s so dim in here, I must’ve been mistaken.” Priscilla gives my drink a pointed look. “Go ahead. One glass won’t hurt you.”
Anxiety encourages me to sip — repeatedly. When our food arrives, my head is swimming. My limbs feel relaxed. The appeal of alcohol is immediately apparent. Priscilla fills the silence while I focus on getting the fork into my mouth. My depth perception is off more than normal.
“You feeling okay?” she asks, face tight with concern.
I nod, but it feels odd to move my head. “Yeah. I don’t feel so good.” With a dramatic sigh, all anxiety forgotten, I admit, “I was nervous about this date, actually.”
“Oh, no. Why?” She leans against the table, frowning. “I don’t bite.”
I laugh a little too loudly at the joke. “This is my first date ever, askually.” I pause, frowning. “Axetually. Askanally.”
“Actually?”
My face lights up. “Yes! That one.” Why does my brain feel so slow? Should I call Fynn? It feels like swimming through mud, reaching for my phone.
“What’s wrong?” Priscilla says.
It takes enormous effort, but I’m able to pull out my phone. “I’m … I’m going to call my brother. He can come get me. I don’t feel so good.”
Priscilla gently pulls the phone out of my hand. “It’s okay. I can get you where you need to be.” She puts my phone in her purse for safekeeping. That’s smart. I’d probably lose it.
My breathing slows as she gets the check and pays.
I want to protest, but my tongue won’t work properly.
She coaxes me into standing, and I follow her instructions as she leads me outside.
When the scent of fresh air hits my nose, I inhale.
Yet, it does nothing to steady the shakes rattling in my body.
A tiny voice in my mind screams that something’s wrong, but only darkness exists.
***
When my senses return, the first thing I notice is soreness in my body. Especially my groin. With a groan, I shift. A warm body presses against my side. An unfamiliar naked body.
My eyes fly open. In a panic, I try to scramble away. All I accomplish are jerky movements.
“You’re up.” Priscilla’s face enters my field of vision. “Ready for round four, handsome?”
My mouth feels like sandpaper as I croak out, “What?” I look around, trying to get my bearings. “Where are we?”
“My house, silly.” She playfully slaps my arm like it’s an inside joke. “You don’t remember ravishing me?”
“What?” I try to sit up, but my head’s pounding so hard it’s impossible to think. “I don’t remember …”
Pressing a palm to my forehead, I grimace at the pain. That’s when I notice I’m naked too. Not only am I naked, there’s a condom on my flaccid cock. I rip it off, staring at the contents. What in the Hells? Turning to look at Priscilla with my good eye, I say, “Did you put something in my drink?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No! Absolutely not. Are you saying you didn’t mean anything you did tonight?” Tears shimmer in her eyes, and the urge to comfort her is overwhelming.
Instantly, I’m fawning. “No, it’s not that. I must’ve fallen asleep. It’s been fun.” The lies mix with my growing stomach ache, birthing an unforgivable sense of nausea. “But I think it’s time to go home.”
Like there are stones glued to my limbs, I shuffle out of bed. So much hurts; I don’t even want to pay attention to it.
“If you insist,” she pouts. While I gather energy sitting on the edge of the mattress, her nails rake down my back.
Bile rises, threatening to spill all over her white carpet.
What in the twelve Hells just happened? Did we have sex?
How did I go from wanting a first kiss to fucking a virtual stranger? Did she spike my drink?
“Where are my clothes?”
Her hand leaves my back. Priscilla sighs. “I don’t know.”
She refuses to help while I stumble around confused, naked, and numb, trying to find my trousers. Humiliation promises a long-term visit, when I can feel something again.
The female Dragon lounges in bed, naked, watching me struggle. A small, satisfied smile on her face. I can’t even look her in the eye. By the time I have my belt fastened, I’m near tears.
“Where’s my phone?”
Priscilla reaches into her purse and tosses it. My hands fumble and it slips, falling to the floor. Picking it up, I see four missed calls from Fynn. I’ve been here for six hours. There are no words to express how I feel about this discovery.
“Um, bye,” I mutter, staggering down the hallway.
She says nothing.
The flight back home is terrifying. Flying with one good eye, in the dark, close to passing out … hindsight will say it’s a stupid decision. Fynn would’ve come to get me, but then he’d know. He’d confront her. Others would know.
No one can know.
Landing in front of the house, I shift back into bi-pedal form and drop to my knees.
Digging my claws into the grass, I grit my teeth, pounding down every emotion threatening to make everything worse.
This is no time to be soft; it’s time to grow up.
So what if I had sex? It’s just sex. Technically, it’s not my first time.
It’s so far from my first time that I can’t consider the number of times.
It’s my first time with a woman, but so what? She enjoyed it; Fynn said that’s important. I just drank too much vodka.
Exhaling sharply, I push myself to stand. I need to grow up. It was just sex. No big deal. By the time I’m turning the front door handle, everything is quiet inside my mind.
Fynn’s sitting on the couch, drinking a beer. He bolts upright, worry etched into the lines of his face. “Where in the Hells have you been?” He eyes my disheveled appearance, growing suspicious.
Giving him my best smile, I wink. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Fynn returns my grin. “So you had a good time? But couldn’t send a text? I was so worried.”
“Nah, it’s fine. We had a good time.” Looking away to hide my wincing, I walk toward my room. Desperate to close the door and sob into a pillow. “Thanks again for fixing me up.”
I’m almost at my bedroom door when he calls out, “Will you see her again?”
“Probably not. I don’t like the shape of her nose.” Vomit burns my throat. I swallow hard. Not yet.
“Already picky?” he teases.
“Something like that.”
Locking the door behind me, I slide to the floor, holding my head in sweaty hands. Focus on my breath. Swallow the vomit. Again and again, I choke it down.
It’s fine.
It was just sex.
It’s no big deal.