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I WANT MY OWN FUTURE
PAST
Something about seeing the man who had his face between your legs a few days ago on your TV is extremely jarring.
The same lips that were covered in me are spread in a smile before answering whatever question the interviewer asks.
Abraham had to attend a movie premier tonight, and for the first time, I pay attention to the entertainment channel Miley always has on in the background as I cook, or as we eat food she ordered on the rare nights she’s home.
“Oh, Professor Hottie,” she calls out, coming in from picking up the food that was delivered downstairs. The scent of Chinese food has my mouth watering.
I try not to react to her words. Or to how beautiful the actresses and models walking the red carpet are.
He isn’t sendingthemmessages about how he can’t wait to see them again.
Or is he?
I shake my head and glance back at Miley, who’s serving us in the kitchen.
When I turn back to look at the TV, Abraham is no longer being interviewed.
“How is his class anyway?” Miley asks as she heads over, handing me a plate full of food before plopping beside me on the couch with one of her own.
I shrug. “Fine. Nothing special.”
She pauses a moment, her fork in the air.
“I heard he’s a dick,” she announces just as I’ve taken my first bite.
I sputter out a laugh, trying to keep my food in my mouth.
“Kind of,” I tell her once I’ve managed to chew and swallow my food. “But what does it matter? I just need to pass his class.”
She nods, chewing her own food.
“Well,” she says after a moment, “I heard he likes to fuck students so if he tries to fail you, just throw him some pussy.”
If only she knew.
But the question is out before I can help myself.
“Where’d you hear that?”
Miley’s eyes are on the TV as some famous actor walks down the red carpet, causing female fans to scream.
“Oh, you know,” she says, still looking at the TV, “people talk. Plus, some girl was bragging to a friend of mine that she fucked him.”
It makes me feel gross, the idea that maybe I’m not the only one he’s giving his attention to. We never had the conversation about being exclusive and maybe it’s naïve of me to assume, but I’m not entertaining anyone else, and I won’t be fucking him if he is. If not because I’m grappling with a strange jealousy, but because I’m not trying to have an STD along with my diploma to show for my time here.
“You need dick and a passing grade. It’s a win either way.” She says it as if she’s trying to convince me, but I don’t need convincing from her. Maybe from him, after having this conversation.
My phone vibrates with a text message, just as I finish my food, putting my empty plate in the sink.
Abraham: I want to see you.
It’s a strange dance between warmth from his words and the heat of jealousy at potentially being just another conquest to him.
If he just wants to fuck me, he doesn’t have to do all of this.
