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“Was that the girl with the brown hair and the huge…” Sasha makes a funny gesture with her hands for boobs.
“Knockers, yes.”
“Well, she always wore low-cut tops, so it’s obvious that’s why she got all the tips.”
“I know that, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. My point is that no matter where you go, no matter what job you do, there’s always going to be some arsehole to ruin your day. The key is to like yourself and love your life enough not to give a shit either way.”
“But people who like themselves are wankers,” she jokes.
“No, that’s people who like themselves too much. You have to like yourself just enough, and not go overboard.”
She scratches at her head, grinning. “What has you giving me all the pep talks?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, even though I do know. I want her to be comfortable enough in who she is so she can show the world her true self and not have to hide. I’m just going the roundabout way of doing it. Maybe if I keep reminding her of how great she is, she’ll finally come around.
“Well, thanks anyway. You’ve cheered me up. How are you feeling after yesterday?” she asks.
“Much better. I had a day of therapy. First a long bath, and then I used some of the stuff from that foot hamper you got me. I did some yoga, too, and watched a couple of movies.”
“Lucky. That sounds way nicer than my day.”
I frown and turn my attention to the comedy show playing on the television, hating whoever that editor is at Sasha’s work and hoping that she finds a way to come out to me, talk to me about her real worries and fears. I always thought she told me everything. I mean, she tells me so much that you wouldn’t think there was anything else left to tell. But there is. There’s a whole lot else.
I hear the front door open and shut, signalling Robert’s arrival home.
“Sasha,” he calls up the stairs.
“In my room, Rob,” she calls back.
His feet sound on the steps before he walks into the room. He’s got a massive pizza box in one arm and a large bottle of Coke in the other. I stare at them longingly, knowing they’re both items I have to avoid.
“I got your whining ‘I have a hangover’ text,” he says in amusement. “Thought I’d bring dinner home since I’m such a wonderful brother.”
Sasha’s eyes light up eagerly. “Is that ham and pineapple?”
Robert grins and sits on the bed beside me. “It is.”
Sasha grabs for the box, lifting out a slice dripping with melted cheese and taking a big bite. She sinks back into her pillow, a look of satisfaction on her face. Robert chuckles and grabs his own slice before nudging me with his elbow. “I take it this stuff is off the menu for you, huh?”
He seems slightly apologetic.
“Usually, yes. But I could probably have a small bit,” I say, as the scent of cheese and freshly baked dough hits my nose.
He smiles, picks out a slice, and hands it to me. I take it, rip off about a third of the slice, and put the rest back in the box. We sit and eat in companionable silence for a while. When we’re finished, we make ourselves comfortable in Sasha’s king-size bed to watch TV and comment bitchily about things. Like how one girl wears way too much fake tan, or how this or that actor has put on weight.
Somewhere in between Robert surreptitiously takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine. I look over to check if Sasha has noticed, but she’s fallen asleep.
The room is silent now except for the noise of the TV.
I try to pull my hand out of Robert’s, but he holds on tight. When I look up into his eyes, I get lost. I didn’t realise it could be so fascinating (or such a turn-on) just to stare at someone for endless minutes, but with Robert my attention is rapt. I can’t look away.
His breathing becomes heavy, and so does mine.
I don’t know how much time has passed when he cups my cheek in his other hand and slowly lowers his mouth to my own. My lips stay closed, but he soon coaxes them open with his tongue. The sensation of it makes me shiver against him, and the kiss grows hungrier.
He lets go of my hand to grip my waist. The next thing I know, he’s picked me up and settled me on his lap. He slips his hand under the hem of my top and caresses my stomach, then moves over my hip and around to cup my bottom. I break the kiss to catch my breath and suddenly realise how scummy I’m being, getting it on with Robert while Sasha’s lying beside us in her hangover-ridden slumber.
His chest is rising and falling erratically, and his eyes are dark with desire. I can’t find any words, so I simply shake my head, crawl from his lap, and leave the room on shaky legs.
“Lana,” he whispers, but I don’t turn back around.
He doesn’t try to come after me, and in a way I’m disappointed, but I know it’s for the best. If anything is going to happen between me and Robert, it’s going to have to happen slowly. I need to make certain he understands that I’m not another Kara. That he can’t go sleeping around if he wants there to be an “us.”
He also needs to know about the little detail of my virginity. More to the point, my irrational fear of losing it. God, just thinking about telling him makes me want to die. What will he think of me? He definitely knows I’m inexperienced, but I’m not sure if he’s aware of just how badly inexperienced I am.
And will he even want to be with a virgin? Do guys like that sort of thing, or do they prefer a girl who knows what she’s doing? Perhaps I should Google it.
