Griffin
My life is generally pretty drama-free unless it involves my family. My brother Lex is the one who always got into shit as a kid, usually with my cousin Armstrong. Last year, Lex took it to a whole new level when he slept with Armstrong’s jilted bride on her honeymoon—she went alone since Armstrong decided to get a blow job from someone who was not the bride at the reception. Then Lex proceeded to fall in love with her. Now they’re engaged.
Like I said, the drama is usually reserved for other members of my family.
So I have no idea how to deal with this unprecedented situation.
What is the likelihood that in a city this huge, I would hook up with someone and then unknowingly devirginize her sister?
Pretty fucking unlikely, I should think.
Things I remember about the night with Nevah—not much. I’d bought her drinks, and we’d done a lot of shots. I was seeing double by the time I left the bar. I decided a nap in my car might help since I’d been dumb enough to drive there. She followed me outside, freaked out about my Tesla, and asked if she could sit in it. Which is the point where everything gets fuzzy.
And now look at the clusterfuck that it’s caused.
Housekeeping still hasn’t been by when I return to the hotel, so I’m faced with all the reminders of Cosy and our night together. I scrub a palm over my face. I need some advice. I call the one person I actually trust not to judge me too harshly for this—Lincoln.
He’s currently out in Guatemala on one of his community outreach projects, so it’s a crapshoot whether he’ll have decent reception.
Thankfully he answers on the third ring. “I was just thinking about calling you. What’s up, cuz? You still living in Vegas sin?”
“Hey, yeah, still in Vegas. How’s Guatemala treating you?” I drop down on the couch. I can smell Cosy on the fabric.
“Hot as Satan’s balls in a jockstrap after a football game, but good otherwise. You okay? You sound off.”
“You got a few minutes to talk? I have a situation, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”
“Yeah. Sure. Of course. A work situation?”
“No. Personal.”
“Please tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with my brother.”
“Not this time.” Armstrong is Lincoln’s younger brother. Linc has done everything he can to separate himself from his family, including moving around to different countries to avoid them. He’s more like my brother than he is Armstrong’s.
“Okay. That’s good. Lay it on me.”
It sounds pretty damn shady in my head, so I can only imagine how it’s going to sound out loud. “So you remember that bachelor party I had to host a while ago?”
“The one where you drew the short straw and had to go to a porn shop with the hot salesgirl?”
“That’s the one.”
I fill him in on everything with Cosy.
“Sounds like you’re into this woman. What’s the situation?”
“So last night she stayed over—”
“—and she wanted to peg you?”
“No, asshole. Can you shut up and let me get the rest of this out?”
“Shutting up. Continue.”
I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s not going to interrupt again. “And this morning I drove her back to her place. She has a sister who’s staying with her.”
“Okay.”
“And it turns out, I hooked up with her when I first got to Vegas.”
“You’re shitting me.” Lincoln’s disbelief is completely understandable. I don’t do hookups.
“I wish I were. It was that night that Imogen called and wanted to talk or whatever. I went out, got shitfaced, and apparently screwed a random in my car, who happened to be this girl’s sister. The worst part is, I had zero recollection of anything from that night until she recognized me this morning.”
“Well, that’s messed up. I’m guessing you won’t be seeing the sister again, either one.”
“You don’t think this is fixable?”
“Uh . . . I guess it depends on how close they are?”
“I think they’re pretty close. Her sister is staying with her right now.”
Linc exhales heavily. “Oh, man.”
I pace the room, reminders of Cosy everywhere from the messed-up sheets to the champagne bottles and the empty whipped cream canister. “I like this girl, woman. I like her.”
“Is she worth the trouble? You’re going to be there for what, a couple more months? What exactly are you trying to fix?”
This is the part I’m not excited to share, so I half mumble it. “She was a virgin.” I’m met with a long stretch of silence. “Linc?”
“Repeat that, please.”
“I think you heard me.”
“How old is this fucking chick?” His voice is cold and hard, the tone I associate with conversations that revolve around his brother or his family.
“Twenty-two.” His silence makes me anxious.
“A twenty-two-year-old virgin in Vegas?”
“She didn’t want to give it up to an asshole.”
“Guess she fucked that up, huh?”
“You’re not helping me here, Linc. What the hell am I going to do? Under any other circumstances I might walk away, except I took something important from her, and I don’t want to be the asshole who becomes vapor and a shitty memory. And I really like her.”
“Do you actually like her or is this about you reliving your own first whatever? I mean, I can understand if that’s it, especially after what happened with Imogen.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Imogen.”
“I’m not trying to be a dick. I just know that she fucked with your head. It makes sense that you’re trying to get over it. I want to make sure you’re invested in this girl—woman—for the right reasons. I got your back, cousin. Whatever’s going on here, I’m with you, but if what you’re telling me is true, you need to tread carefully.”
“I don’t want to screw her over.”
“I’m less worried about you messing her up than I am about you developing some kind of guilt complex and making bad decisions as a result.”
“This isn’t about me, Linc. She’s different. I can’t just walk away. I don’t want to be an asshole, so I need to find a way to fix this, even if it’s just her acknowledging that none of this was intentional.”
Lincoln exhales loudly. “Oh shit.”
“Oh shit, what?”
“She already has you by the balls.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I hate it when Lincoln pulls this dramatic bullshit.
“You’re talking about her like you’re in a relationship with her.”
“It’s not a relationship.”
“You took her virginity, yes?”
“Yes.” I almost heave the word. It was fine last night, before I knew I’d had some kind of interaction with her sister. But now, with time and more perspective than I like, I realize that ghosting her would make me the kind of man I loathe. More than that, I don’t want to ghost Cosy.
I want to be more of her firsts. I don’t want to be the guy she remembers as the one who took her virginity after he slept with her sister.
“You’re kinda fucked, dude.”
“Thanks for nothing, Linc.”
I’m about to hang up on him when he says, “Wait.”
So I do, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and any perspective that isn’t my own would be great. Both of my brothers are in successful relationships in spite of their less than stable and shining pasts. My parents have been together forever and seem as solid as ever despite the number of their friends who have either been divorced or pretend they’re happily married when really they’re miserable. Add to that my own failed engagement, and I feel like maybe I’m not so awesome at relationships.
“She’s young.”
“She’s of legal drinking age in all states,” I say defensively.
“Yeah, I get that. But I mean, she’s not cynical like women our age can be. Or at least she shouldn’t be. If you want to win her back, you need to woo the fuck out of her.”
“Okay. I can do that. I can woo Cosy.”
“Hold up. Her name is Cosy? Like, let’s get cozy by the fire?”
“Yeah, or tea cozy, but the British spelling.”
“Are her parents fucked-up hippies or something?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met them. Can we get back to the wooing plan?”
“Buy her flowers, candy, whatever she loves. Haunt her world if you have to. She’s too young to be jaded by experience, especially if you’re her first. She’s going to want you to be better than the fuckhead who screwed her sister and then her, so you need to do nice things for her to show her you’re serious.”
“Jesus. I really am an asshole.”
“You’re not, but the circumstances aren’t great. You need to work it hard if you want to sway her to your side. Her sister could be the clincher, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“If she feels slighted, you’re probably screwed. But you can’t control that, and you can’t contact the sister, so you have to work the Cosy angle.”
That’s not what I want to hear, even though I can understand. “I can do that. I think, anyway.”
“Twenty-fucking-two, Griffin?” Lincoln huffs his annoyance.
“She’s different. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about her.”
“You mean other than a tight ass? And I’m not saying that to be a dick, but Imogen did a number on you, man, and I think this is you trying to find someone safe who’s not going to shred your ego or your trust like that again.”
He might be right, at least partly, but it’s more than that. “I don’t expect you to understand, but if you met her . . . It’s like she’s all the things I’ve ever wanted packed into one human being. She’s not full of pretense and bullshit. It doesn’t matter that I have to go back to New York eventually. I don’t want to leave things like this.”
“Call the florist, then, cuz, buy chocolate, and get ready to grovel. And trade in your damn car. You can’t be picking her up in the ride you screwed her sister in.”