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Were supposed to make gooey declarations of forever at each other, passionately exclaim our love…
Oh, about that.
I scowl, wrinkling my nose. Love. Now there's a four letter word. I wonder if they've ever been in love. I wonder if I've ever been in love. Mark was my college boyfriend, but did I love him? I thought I did. We spent nearly all of our time together, applying to the same college and then walking around campus, holding hands smugly like we were relationship royalty.
I had that whole Promise Ring thing propping me up, the idea that my virginity was a shining jewel in a dingy sea of shattered glass, or so I had been told. Among all the other sullied college women, I rose gracefully above because I had a man who loved me and, to prove it, would not make love to me.
But when I found him with Camille, it all fell apart. They were in bed together, just two hulking, shuddering shapes under the blue blanket. They heard me drop my purse and poked out their sweaty, surprised faces.
So much for the noble love who respected me too much to defile my body. I guess he just thought I was a dead end chump, one who would give him the innocent Promise Ring Prince Charming reputation for just a little bit of his time in return. And a lot of his lies.
But after the initial shock, it was easy to let him go. It was like turning off a switch. If it was love, would it have been that easy to cast him aside?
And then Trevor… I must've loved him, because he changed everything. He's the reason I just gave up even trying. He was so charming, so believable. So earnest and unassuming… I believed every single word that he told me. I saw our future blooming in front of me like a wide-open landscape being illuminated quickly by a rising sun. I never even thought that I could see a horizon stretch out like that, see my future pushing out fast ahead of me like a thrown spear.
He too loved the idea of my virginity. He loved how special that made me, especially as I crept toward twenty-three, then twenty-four. He said he was satisfied just to cuddle. We talked about our future like it was a castle on a hill, complete with birds to carry my wedding train and angels to giggle around our eventual wedding bed.
So when he turned out to be a drug addict and a liar at a cellular level, it wasn't just a day-to-day relationship he took from me. He took the whole damn landscape, castle, fairies, and dwarves with him. The sun went out. In an instant, my whole future was scooped wholesale off the planet.
So that must have been love, because that was devastating.
So what do I see now? Do I see a future? Are Emmet and Dillon the kind of men I make plans with? Are these the kind of people I trust long enough to find out if the plans are for real? Because that's what love is, isn't it? Bliss today, but the promise of more bliss tomorrow too, right?
Slowly, I lift my hands off the laptop and snap the lid closed. I see the light blue of the screen flicker and go out.
I don't have an ending for the story it. I don't know what it is.
Chapter 37
Dillon
“Can open my eyes yet?” she asks, pursing her lips.
“Not yet,” I tell her. “Actually, you look kinda good like that. I might have to keep the blindfold for another time.”
She holds her arms out in front of her, wrist to wrist. “You know, these scenes usually involve a rope or handcuffs or something. You want to cuff me?”
“Yes!” Emmet answers. He leans forward, ready to take her delicate wrists in his hands.
“Both of you, knock it off,” I say seriously. “This is my show, and I’ll decide if this can be a bondage scene, okay? Are we agreed?”
She pouts, pushing out her lower lip far enough that I have the urge to rest my balls on it.
“Fine, whatever,” she sighs. “I thought this was all Emmet's plan anyway. What happened to that idea?"
“Well since I get to do the actual spectacle part, Dillon wanted to direct, shall we say.”
“I have always wanted to direct,” I nod. Then I remember she can't even see me.
And it's pretty sad, because I do look amazing.
Finally the car stops next to the bridge in the middle of downtown. The driver gets out and opens the door on the sidewalk side. People back away, startled, eager to see who’s emerging from the car. When they realize
it's Emmet first, I can hear the gasps of surprise and delight.
“Can I take the blindfold off yet? I’m going to fall flat on my face.”
“No you won't! Leave it on!” I declare. I get out of the car and take her hand in mine, carefully maneuvering her onto the sidewalk, doing my best to ignore everyone. People are pushing forward again, endangering our personal space. I'm starting to wonder if this was not my best theater direction after all.
