20. tallulah
TALLULAH
GRANNY PANTIES
With only a few days until our papers were due, Andrew did this dramatic reveal for the subjects of our second project. The room was tense. Choked with anxiety. Everyone waited with bated breath as he passed out the subjects’ names typed on papers folded in half before taking us to meet them.
For the rest of the summer, we’d stay close to our selected Canadian Olympian. We’d interview them and document their personal journey, readying for the Olympics.
Everybody was anxious except me.
Of course there was my everyday anxiety. I didn’t speak when Andrew asked questions. I kept quiet during our recorded video instructions from Tomasini. When I met my interviewee for the first time, I let him do the talking while he discussed our upcoming schedule.
I just wasn’t nearly as nervous as the other students in the room. So when the interviewee and I shook hands, I wasn’t panicking. Yes, I’d do my highest-caliber work towards the best profile I could write, but that was it. I refused to go beyond that.
Why would I care about the ultimate prize—co-writing with Tomasini? He was the kind of man I wanted to write exposé articles about when I was older and more experienced.
There were far more appealing things to put my attention to. Like the six-foot hockey player who promised to take me out to lunch.
Nick was worth my time and interest.
I could hardly wait. Lunch today, sex tomorrow. As soon as Andrew released us, I took the bus to Nick’s house. Anticipation buzzed under my skin, I was so excited. I hurried from the bus stop and made it halfway up the sidewalk before the door flew open.
There he was.
Wow. Nick was unbelievably attractive.
He strode down the steps, heading straight towards me. In seconds, his arms were wrapped around me, muscular and warm, as he captured my lips for a kiss.
“Hi,” I giggled between kisses, floating midair.
“Hi,” he muttered, threading his fingers through my hair. His voice was rough on my skin, raising goosebumps. “I missed you.”
I’d never been in a hookup situation before, but Nick’s behavior seemed…unexpected? Weren’t hookups supposed to be emotionally distant? Even physically distant outside of the bedroom?
I didn’t know for sure. Nick was so touchy-feely, I’d never experienced anything like it. His fingers wove through mine, taking my hand to lead me inside.
My pulse fluttered. I loved how he touched me, how he couldn’t stop touching me.
“Look who’s heeeeere!” one of his teammates sang from the living room. His team was piled inside, gaming together.
I gave a small wave and Nick pulled me upstairs.
Another teammate groaned. “You talk so much about her, why don’t we get to meet her?”
“What’s her name…?” a third mumbled then burst out with, “Tallulah! That’s it! Her name’s Tallulah—don’t hang up on him again! He was whining about it the whole bus ride!”
“What?” My eyebrows furrowed. “That wasn’t me?”
“Tallulah, don’t listen to them,” Nick told me, throwing an exasperated look at the living room. “Gordo! Stan! Shut the fuck up!”
Something cold flared in my chest. A girl hung up on Nick, and he was disappointed about it? What did that mean? I faltered at the top of the stairs, trying to push down the hurt, a poisonous taste at the back of my tongue. “I—I thought you said you’re not talking to anyone else.”
Nick glanced back, confused. “I’m not?”
“Who hung up on you?”
“Uh…forget it.”
How could he say that? If we were in this hookup thing together, I didn’t want to be the only exclusive party. That wasn’t fair. And I didn’t want him to hide things from me. And…
Was I jealous?
No. Of course not.
Nick must’ve caught the sting in my words. He sighed at his bedroom door, turning to me. “Tallulah, you are the one who hung up on me.” I started to argue and he shook his head. “We jerked off together, and you hung up.”
“I said goodnight?”
“Yeah, you did. I—uh—made a joke with the guys that you were abrupt about it.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said quickly.
“I haven’t done a hookup thing before.” I twisted my hands. “I thought they were kind of emotionally distant? I don’t know how to do this.”
“Tallulah, I have your cat in my bedroom,” Nick pointed out, pushing open the door. “This isn’t a ‘hookup thing.’ You and I… we’re friends. Aren’t we?”
Rat yawned from the top of her tree, scampering down the ledges Nick put together for her. Her black fur was fluffy from sleep, and she raced up to me, patting me on the leg with her paws, insisting on being picked up. I scooped her up, holding her to my chest.
Were Nick and I friends?
When we’d originally narrowed down the details of our arrangement, I called it ‘friends with benefits’ but that was more because I couldn’t imagine calling him my ‘fuck buddy.’ Since then, things had changed.
I liked spending time with him, talking to him.
I liked how I felt around him. Did I want to be his friend?
The answer was surprisingly obvious. I did.
I nodded, feeling a little shy. “We’re friends.”
Nick took a few steps, halving the distance between us. “Okay. We’re friends. And friends don’t hang up on each other.”
“Oh.” A blush colored my cheeks. I could see it from his perspective, that was pretty rude. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry.”
“No reason to say sorry. Nothing to worry about.”
“I guess…I’m worried about blurring the lines?”
He lifted a shoulder, nonchalant. “Don’t be.”
“I’m overthinking, aren’t I?” I bit my lip. “I bet you never worry about stuff like that.”
He was quiet for a moment before he snorted into low laughter. Incredulous laughter, like there was an inside joke between us. “I think about blurring the lines every minute of every day.”
I laughed too. In an overarching sense, it was funny.
“Oh, Tallulah,” he sighed, with that same secret joke grin. “You’re going to kill me.” He took Rat from me, tipping his chin to the bathroom. “Go get dressed. We’re getting lunch.”
It took me a moment to remember the item on his bucket list. For some reason, Nick wanted to buy me a dress. Why was it on his bucket list? And how could it also be on mine?
I peered around the bathroom door, my eyes widening when I saw it. “Oh!”
The dress was so pretty.
It was a stunning thigh-length yellow dress. There were two separate places the fabric would tie, at my breasts and the back of my neck. I ran my fingers over the fabric. This dress didn’t scream ‘dependable’ or ‘reliable.’ It said summery, sunshiney fun.
Something else dangled from the hook—a pair of underwear.
Huh. A pair of…briefs?
They were yellow too, but they looked like granny panties. Even I had cuter underwear than this.
“The panties are…?”
Nick’s command was quick. “Get dressed, Tallulah.”
Maybe Nick had a thing for thicker panties? Was that a thing? A fetish for cotton underwear you’d find in someone’s ye olde dresser? I had no clue. Either way, the dress was so fricking cute, if the pair of underwear was non-negotiable, I didn’t have any qualms with more comfort.
The underwear did have an odd texture though. I didn’t know what to make of it. There was an odd plastic piece in the middle.
I slipped on the dress and stared at my chest. Oh, no. That was an unforeseeable problem. The dress was yellow, my bra was navy blue. With this dress’s particular cut, people from space would be able to see my bra.
“Crap,” I whispered. “Uh…”
“Ready to go?” Nick called.
“Um—one second!”
I tugged my bra up to hide it under the yellow fabric. Yeah, like that’d solve things. Not. Clearly, this wouldn’t work. It was too obvious. What could I do? I had nude bras back at the Village, but they wouldn’t work with this cut either.
What was I supposed to do?
There was one option.
With new resolve, I unclipped my bra, shedding it to the floor.
I’d always liked my body. When I flipped through my mom’s scrapbook, it was apparent that she and I could’ve passed as twins, and that similarity passed from her mother as well.
The Walker women had a very particular build, the hips, the knees, even the shapes of our fingers.
I liked how I looked because I looked like some of my favorite people in the world, my grandma, my mom, my aunts.
It wasn’t a brag. I would just never want to change that, to sever the connection we had.
How I looked wasn’t the issue. The issue was I’d never been comfortable enough to show extra skin. I wanted to do it, but I was always too nervous. What if people judged me?
Anxiety threatened to surface. Slowly, I took deep breaths and pulled the knot over my head again, sliding it under my long hair. I didn’t want my anxiety to ruin today. I wanted to have fun.
“How did you know my size?” I asked, leaving the bathroom.
“I asked Montoy—ya—” Nick’s words died in his throat as he took me in. “Woah.”
I flushed, stepping back to the door, back to safety. “I can’t wear a bra, I don’t have one in this cut—”
Nick took me by the arm, tugging me out of the bathroom. I burned under his careful study of my body, leaving me lightheaded. Nick directed me to turn around. He stood behind me, pressing my back to his chest.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” he whispered, rubbing his fingers into the fabric.
“Having sex,” I breathed out.
“Mm-hmm.” He dipped down to my neck, sweeping aside my hair. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll never forget it.”
If we hadn’t checked off holding hands from Nick’s bucket list, we would’ve done so in downtown Toronto.
Nick and I walked to the restaurant together, hand in hand.
Was it anxiety-inducing? Not as much as I would’ve anticipated.
I didn’t know anyone in the crowded sidewalks.
Nobody from the rez, nobody from school, nobody from the internship.
It was just him, me, and the summer crowds.
It was like we were hidden in plain sight, in our own bubble.
Nick brought us to an extremely tall hotel and clicked the top floor for their restaurant. No surprise there. That was Nick—expensive food and expensive restaurants.