Eddie
Other than the bad taste in my mouth, I don’t have any signs of a hangover. Which means I got it right this time. Alcohol only. No drugs. And I drank just enough to have fun but not so much that I screwed up my entire life. Maybe you can’t screw up your life twice? Maybe it just goes from not-screwed to screwed?
Finley’s bed is soft and girlie smelling, but I’m sure it beats Dima’s couch, especially with a party going on all around. Not exactly sleep-friendly.
I roll on my side and check out Finley. She’s lying on her back, still sound asleep—snoring—her blond hair a tangled mess all over the pillows. Guess we got a little wild last night. A grin spreads across my face. This whole adventure was not something I’d planned on. I’d even say it was something that freaked me out a little—sex with a stranger. Right when we started stripping each other’s clothes off, the doubts crept in. I hadn’t done this in months. Not since Caroline. And that turned out to be a nightmare times ten.
Finley must have sensed my hesitation, because she opened a drawer next to her bed and pulled out a pack of pills, waving it in front of my face. Then she grabbed a handful of condoms and set them on the nightstand. “Birth control. Condoms. We’re good, okay?”
The logic and attraction clearly won over any doubts.
Finley stirs, waking up slowly. I push some of the hair off her face. “Hey…”
Her eyes dart around then widen when they rest on me. She shoots upright and shoves me out of the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Uh-oh. Not good. “You invited me, remember?”
She releases a groan and then jumps out of bed, flashing me a little skin before she can get a robe on. “I invited you last night. Not this morning!”
Oh good. She remembers inviting me. I open my mouth to reply, but I’m interrupted by my jeans hitting me right in the face.
“I’m gonna be late, and you’re still here.” She’s flying around the room, pulling items from the closet and tossing them onto the bed. She sees me still standing by the bed, holding my pants, and freaks out. “Put your clothes on! Seriously. You were supposed to leave after—”
Her mouth hangs open midsentence, her eyes roaming up and down my body, like she’s remembering that we had sex. She laughs, shaking her head. “Of course. It figures I’d screw this up.”
The clock beside the bed catches my attention. Oh shit. I booked a job. This morning. And I left home yesterday with no new home to go to. “Hey, do you think I could use your bathroom, maybe take a quick shower?”
Her eyes grow even wider. “Are you kidding me?”
“So that’s a no?” I slide my pants on and glance around for the rest of my stuff.
Finley swoops down, scoops up my clothes and backpack, then shoves them at me. She unlocks the bedroom door, opens it, and pushes me outside, slamming it behind her. I stand in the living room, my shoes, shirt, and bag in my arms still.
“No!” A voice says. I look around and spot a dark-skinned, middle-aged woman in the kitchen. She glares at me and stalks in my direction, waving a spatula. “No, no, no!”
I spin around and head for the door. The crazy woman starts swearing at me in French, moving closer and waving that spatula like she plans to beat me with it. I dive for the hallway and walk barefoot up one floor before I stop to catch my breath and put my shoes and shirt on. I knock, quietly at first, on Dima’s door, then louder after he and his roommates don’t answer. A door opens next to Dima’s apartment, and an old guy pokes his head out and glares at me.
All right. Guess I’m not showering this morning. I’ll have to find a public bathroom to at least clean up a little.
I walk outside and get hit with warm June air despite the early hour. Starbucks is around the corner. After assessing the cash situation in my wallet, I decide to limit myself to only a small regular coffee. I sit down at a table to plug in my phone, and I’m welcomed with several text messages. The first is from Lana, my dad’s assistant.
LANA: Your father wants to set up dinners for you with a few of his friends. Let me know what your schedule looks like once you’re settled in.
The second one is from RJ, one of the only friends of mine I still talk to who hasn’t ditched me, whose family hasn’t been ruined by my father’s actions. But lying to loyal, helpful people makes communication with said people a bitch. Well, the guilt is a bitch anyway.
RJ: Dude, how the hell is Princeton? U so don’t deserve to be there but hope ur having a blast. Maybe I’ll take a train out there sometime soon.
I almost can’t read the next text after RJ’s, but I haven’t been able to talk to her in weeks, so I’m compelled to see her words at the very least.
CAROLINE: Heard you left yesterday. You made the right choice, E.
I stop reading after Caroline’s text, ignoring the three my older sister, Ruby, sent. I rub my temples and try to take in slow deep breaths, pulling my thoughts back to last night. To the calm focused energy I had while my hands wandered over Finley’s body. I think this is going to be my happy place.
For most of my life, girls have either made me anxious, guilty, nervous, or some combination of those three things. Not that I didn’t enjoy any of those experiences, but the enjoyment came in tiny doses while the rest of my feelings consisted of the previously mentioned anxiety, guilt, or nerves. But last night, with Finley, it hadn’t been like that at all. I worried it would be—and did it anyway. Something about her made me feel important, purposeful. She liked everything I did and told me, straight up. I’ve never had a girl do that before.
I mean, it would have been nice to get a more positive reaction from her this morning, but then again, this was obviously something new for her. I don’t hate that part. It was a lot of new for me too. Like this modeling job I’m heading to now. Jesus, how the hell did I end up here?