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Devin
“God, what is wrong with you, Devin?” Kyle asks incredulously while sitting on the end of my bed with his foot pulled up on the edge to lace his black runners.
I pull the white cotton sheet higher up my naked body, a sad attempt to cover the heat crawling up my chest and coming to settle in my cheeks. Anger and embarrassment war for dominance inside of me.
How dare he make me feel like some kind of freak?
“I warned you, Kyle. Before we ever made it to this stage in our relationship, I warned you that I had a medical condition, that my libido worked on hyperdrive. You assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. That you liked a woman who could, and I quote—go ten rounds between the sheets—as you put it.”
Still refusing to make eye contact with me, he focuses hard on the laces of his shoe. “Yes. But I didn’t think you’d want to go at it every night of the week. That’s not normal, Devin.” He stands from the bed and slips on his jacket.
A visible shudder rolls through him and he shakes his head as though he’s trying to clear whatever is flitting through it. He takes two long strides towards the front door of my studio loft apartment, before stopping to rest his hand on the doorknob.
I watch the tension in his back as his shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhalation. I know what’s coming long before he ever mutters another word. “Look, Devy …”
“Forget it, Kyle. I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it all before, so just go,” I clip out, cutting him off. Rejection and I are well acquainted, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear the stinging words tumble out of him.
With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I listen as my front door opens and closes—shutting on yet another failed relationship, another horrid chapter in this thing they call life.
Devin
A nervous energy pulses through my veins, and my hands shake as they wring together in my dark denim clad lap.
“What am I doing here?” I ask myself out loud. The driver I hired for this evening’s ride from Bloomfield to New York City looks at me in his rearview mirror.
“Did you ask me something?” he questions in a heavy accent I can’t quite place, his dark brows furrowing together as he continues to eye me speculatively.
“Oh, no. Sorry. I was just talking to myself. I tend to do that a lot when I’m nervous. I also ramble, spout facts and useless information, but information that I find interesting. You see, I work …” Inhaling a deep lungful of air, I release it with a heavy sigh, dispelling some of the restless energy wreaking havoc on my body. “Sorry,” I squeak, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
He chuckles, and, with eyes back on the road, he says, “Not to worry. My wife is a nervous clicker.” He mimes clicking a pen repeatedly.
I nod in understanding and drag my gaze from the rearview mirror. With a trembling hand, I pull my phone from my purse and hit dial next to the one person who knows exactly what I’m about to do and why I’m a jumble of nerves.
“Bitch, you better not be calling to tell me you’ve turned around.” The raspy voice of my childhood best friend, Nicole—better known as Nyx—crackles through the speaker of my cheap phone.
“No, but I need you to keep me from doing just that. Remind me again why I’m doing this.” An invisible band tightens around my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Ensuing panic rises in my mind. I close my eyes and block out the wave of nausea and vertigo threatening to take me down.
“All right, now listen here. You researched. You signed up. You waited and pondered. You got the invite. You let me treat you like a fucking doll and dress you up. It’s time to stop living in your books, Devy.
“Now you’re going to sit in that car for the next thirty plus minutes until you pull up outside of that club, and then you’re going to saunter inside with your shoulders back and your head held high and have the best fucking night of your life, filled with hot guys and a fuckton of orgasms.”
My knee bounces, the heel of my borrowed boot pounding a nervous, rhythmic beat against the floor of the car. “You’re right, Nyx. You’re right.” I let out a heavy breath and force my frantic movements to still.
“Of course I am, aren’t I always?”
I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes. She’s not wrong, but you won’t hear me agree with her about it either.
“It’s going to be an amazing night, so try to enjoy the ride you have coming. And if all else fails, remember your jealous best friend sitting at home alone, nothing but Ben and Jerry to keep her company. You have to live this up for the both of us.”
“I know, I know. I hate you didn’t get an invitation. I’m just kind of missing the comfort of the stacks right now.”
“It does suck, but I’m glad you got an invite. We both know you need this. You’ve been in one serious funk after another lately and hiding away in that dusty library isn’t helping you.”
“What can I say? The dust bunnies are my friends.”
Nyx chuckles and says, “You are such a dork.”
“But that’s why you love me,” I singsong, and she agrees.
