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I felt like a creep for even thinking the word, but it was there. No matter how progressive we wanted to be in my generation, that word didn’t seem to fade. It was whispered now by most, shouted by others, but we still used it.
It was an ugly word, full of disgrace and shame that women shouldn’t have to bear anymore, but we did. Even in our own minds. I took a deep breath as I heard locks being undone and put a smile on my face.
“Hi!” I called as I saw Brooklyn’s face and stepped in to hug her. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I inhaled her perfume, something that must be her own scent because I never saw her with a bottle of the stuff and felt my body sink into hers. I really had missed her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said and sank into me the same way. “I’ve missed you, girl.”
“How are we going to survive not living together anymore?” I asked as she opened the door wider and stepped aside.
“I don’t know. I might have to rent a bigger apartment and move you in,” she joked and pointed down the hall. “Come into the living room. Well, that’s what we’re calling it. It’s really just the other end of the kitchen.”
It was a very small apartment, with one bedroom and a small bathroom, kitchen and living room. It wasn’t in a bad neighborhood on the outskirts of Charlotte though, and it had a nice view of the city in the distance. “It’s nice.”
“Thanks. It’s going to have to do for a couple of years, until the baby is old enough to go into her own room, at least. By the way, you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, do you?”
“Not at all,” I answered and sat my bag down at the end of a black leather couch that I knew was second-hand. I’d been with her when she found it on a Facebook group.
“Good. There’s a pullout bed in that thing, but they’re never comfortable, not unless you’re a kid.”
“I understand, Brook, really. It’s alright. I’m not judging, you know that.”
“I know,” she said with a tense smile. “It’s all so different now, though, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I took her hands and we sat down on the couch together. “But we’re still the same people, alright? You’re still the awesome nurse that’s going to rock the world with your skills, and I’m going to be a huge firm’s dream PR person or something like that. But deep down, we’ll still be those girls that spent freshman year talking all night long and giggling with each other. No matter what.”
I didn’t add the ‘I hope’, to the end of that. I still had to tell her about my weekend.
“Dinner is almost done. Hi, Nic!” Stuart came over to tap a kiss against my cheek and stand back up. “You look great!”
“Thanks, Stuart,” I had on a pair of jeans, with a black blouse and a light jacket on top of that. “I’m not sure why though.”
“You look… different.” He pursed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. “Did you have your eyebrows tattooed on in Vegas or something?”
“What?” I gasped, astonished at his question. “No, I didn’t, thank you.”
“Well, something’s different. I just don’t know what.”
“Wait,” Brooklyn said, pulled back away from me to gaze at me more intently, and then narrowed her own eyes. “You did it! You lost your virginity!”
“How can you fucking tell?” I asked, completely astounded that they’d guessed.
“You have this confidence or something. I don’t know, but Stuart’s right, you look great and I’m happy for you.” She hugged me then pulled back, Stuart still in the room. He’d always been a part of this dialogue, so I didn’t mind him being there. I hadn’t planned to discuss this so soon, but it was out in the open now.
“Who’s the guy? Or the girl? Was it a girl?” Brooklyn asked, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh, hurry up, girl, details!”
“Well,” I looked at both of them, my breath caught somewhere in my throat before I forced it out. “You remember the Rome brothers?”
“I do!” Brooklyn declared, her eyes even wider now. “Which one?”
“Well,” I looked at her, doubtful, ready to run if she started to scream at me in anger. “It was kind of…”
My words trailed off. I was terrified suddenly, but the look of excitement on her face and the idle curiosity on Stuart’s urged me to carry on.
“Girl, I will beat you if you don’t tell me which one,” Brooklyn growled, her eyebrow quirked before she grinned. “Was it the one with the scar? He looks like he’d be wild in bed.”
“Well,” I began but she interrupted.
“Or that one with the curly hair? My God, he’s hot.” Brook fanned her face.
“It was…,” but again, she interrupted.
