Slow Burn Part 26

Chapter 24.

Sometime during the night, I awaken with the burning need to pee and puke. Hoping I don't do both at the same time, I stagger around my unfamiliar surroundings in search of a bathroom. I don't think I'm going to make it in time, but lucky me, I hit the jackpot on the first door I come to. After I empty both my bladder, and my stomach, I feel so much better. Tears form at the corners of my eyes in relief. I find my way back to the bed, and flop down next to the warm body sprawled there. My last conscious thought has me vaguely wondering who I'm lying next to. Then it's light out.

I wake up in an unfamiliar room feeling like a used toilet. Disgusting, but true. Also, I don't know what kind of monster is rhythmically squeezing my brain in his giant sweaty fist, but I'd wish it would stop.

Water. I desperately need water. And, secondly, a bathroom.

And-oh, my G.o.d-my clothes! Where the h.e.l.l are my clothes?!

I'm lying under a plaid comforter, sticky and absolutely naked. Nausea churns in my belly when I try to sit up, holding the blanket firmly over my chest. I want to stop the rush of jumbled memories a.s.saulting my senses right now, but it's as useless as trying to contain a tsunami.

I had s.e.x last night. I lost my virginity to someone other than Johnny. And who's more not-Johnny than his best friend? Oh, my G.o.d. This is an epic mess. How could I? s.h.i.+t!

"Hey."

I startle, letting out a little scream, and clutching the comforter to me like the virgin I no longer am. Nick is standing at the foot of the bed. He looks freshly showered, and very sheepish.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he apologizes quickly, taking a step back.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. "No, you didn't-I just-it's okay. I mean..." I trail off as I run my hand through my hair, wincing at all the knots. I must look...I don't even want to know.

There is a horribly awkward silence where we avoid looking directly at each other while searching for something to say. When I finally open my mouth to say something, so does Nick, and we end up trying to talk over each other.

Laughing uneasily, I gesture at him. "You go."

"Uh..." Nick stares at the ground. "I just wanted to say...s.h.i.+t, Juliet, I'm so sorry about last night. I should have never-I can't believe I did that. I'm a complete a.s.shole, and I took advantage of you-"

"We were both wasted," I interrupt, shaking my head. "I'm the one who came over and basically forced you to help me get drunk."

"No, I should have known better. I should have at least stopped drinking." Nick looks up, his hazel eyes more serious than I've ever seen them. "Johnny's gonna kill me."

"No, he won't." I firm my jaw, and meet his gaze. "We're not going to tell him about it. Look, we both made a huge mistake, and-it shouldn't have happened, and it's not going to happen again." I add much more quietly, "And he's not my boyfriend, anymore."

Nick winces, and carefully sits down on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, but he's still my best friend. You don't ever sleep with your best friend's girl-ex or otherwise. I'm s.h.i.+tty," he says miserably.

He looks as devastated as I feel. I put aside my own guilty conscience and self-loathing to try to console him. "It was a mistake," I repeat forcefully. "And I...Johnny and I aren't getting back together."

I try not to sound like I've just realized this, but tears suddenly fill my eyes. I guess I unconsciously came to that understanding last night, but it's hard to say it out loud. It's definitely over between us. It has to be.

I look away, trying to hide my face, and letting my tangled hair fall forward. I wish Nick would say something because I'm afraid I'm about to start making some weird squeaky noises right now-the sound that precedes my ugly crying. If you don't know what ugly crying is, you're about to.

"You okay?"

I feel the bed move as Nick leans over to pat my foot. I lift my head up, and paste a small smile on my face. "Fine," I lie.

He makes this face that says he's not buying it. "Hey, can I ask you something?" he mumbles, staring down at the bed.

"Um...okay."

Nick doesn't look up. "Was that your first time?"

He seems to be holding his breath while I die of mortification. As if things weren't uncomfortable enough! I gather the comforter even more firmly against myself, and glare at him. He waits, embarra.s.sed, but politely determined.

"Yes," I huff out, helpless to stop the flood of color to my cheeks.

"s.h.i.+t!" Nick groans and drops his head into his hands. "I'm such an a.s.shole."

"No, you're not." I start s.h.i.+fting, arranging myself so I can maneuver off the bed while remaining completely covered up. "I need to-oh, s.h.i.+t! What time is it?!"

I look wildly around the room-ow, my head-and spot a football-shaped clock on the bedside table. The digital display tells me it's 6:01 a.m.

A.m.!! I am so dead!

"I have to go! Where are my clothes?! Oh, my G.o.d-my mom's gonna kill me!"

I fall off the bed in my panic, getting tangled up in blankets and sheets. Nick immediately crouches down, and I almost punch myself in the face trying to yank the sheet over my chest. He tries to help me, but quickly backs up when I start flailing.

"I just threw your clothes in the dryer," he says quickly as I sit there panting like a wounded bird. He shrugs apologetically. "They should be done in a few minutes. Do you wanna grab a shower while you wait?"

I can't think over the pounding in my head and heart. Rubbing my forehead, I force myself to calm down and think. Okay, I'm already screwed, a few more minutes won't hurt, and it would only help my case if I didn't come home looking like this. I wonder if Mom called the cops. G.o.d, I hope not-should I call her? No, I don't even want to check my phone to see how much missed calls and texts I have.

"Thank you," I say after I've gotten hold of myself. "A shower would be great."

Nick shows me to an adjacent bathroom, roughly the size of my living room at home. After making sure I have clean towels, he tells me he'll leave my freshly laundered clothes, and a couple of aspirins just outside the door. He's being so nice, and I want to cry because I know our friends.h.i.+p will never be the same. We may never be able to look each other in the eye again.

I mean to take a two-minute shower, but I have dried puke in my hair and one of my fake eyelashes is stuck to my a.s.s. Gah! Why do people continue to get drunk if this is what happens the morning after?

I feel too sick to really dwell on the consequences of last night, and that's fine since I'll be dead once my mom gets hold of me. I can't believe I spent the night with Nick! What happened...afterwards? The last thing I remember was-Nick and I were...but what happened after that? How did we end up in bed together? Is there more to the story? If so, I don't think I want to know.

My dress is still slightly damp and wrinkled, but I slip it on anyway. I grab the aspirin and the giant bottle of Gatorade while I'm putting on my shoes and rus.h.i.+ng out the room. It's a shame I don't break my neck along the way.

"Is your dad home?" I ask Nick nervously as he starts limping down the stairs.

"Nah, he's over at Ashley's. I'm usually here by myself," he replies with a shrug.

I take a moment to silently sympathize. The only person I know my age whose parents are actually around is Heather, and she's always complaining how hard it is to get away with stuff. Not that it stops her from partying-she has her parents completely fooled.

I could use more adult supervision. Clearly I don't make good choices.

I remember I don't have a way home only when I'm wobbling down the paved drive. I turn around and almost b.u.mp into Nick, who's right behind me with his keys in his hand. I guess he didn't forget. He shuts the door, and nods toward his Range Rover, parked in front of a three-car garage. I smile at him gratefully.

The ride to my house is beyond uncomfortable. For the first half, the only time we talk is when I throw out directions to my house. I take my aspirin and drink my Gatorade, but I'm worried nothing will touch this monstrous pounding in my head. I think Nick must feel the same way-he's wearing sungla.s.ses though it's mostly dark out, and the Range Rover keeps drifting to the left when he nods off. I almost think it's better to get in a car accident than to go home right now with no excuse about last night.

I can't believe I just had that thought. Man, I'm dumb.

"I can drive if you want," I offer after Nick swerves back in the lane.

"Sorry," he apologizes, giving his head a little shake. "No, I'm good. Let me just..." He reaches for his Gatorade and takes a long drink. Then he straightens his shoulders and leans forward, trying to look more alert.

There's nowhere I can look that doesn't freaking hurt. If I try to look out the window, the pa.s.sing scenery makes my stomach swirl in oily circles, and I want to throw up. If I look down, I worry my eyeb.a.l.l.s will pop out of their sockets, and my brain will ooze through the openings-and I'll puke everywhere. If I look at Nick, one of us will inevitably say something about last night-and I'll end up word vomiting.

I settle for leaning my head back against the seat, keeping my eyes closed, and playing dead. Why am I not trying to come up with a reason for being out all night? I've got nothing, and you know what? I think I'm going to tell Mom the truth-the drinking and pa.s.sing out part. Not the part where I had s.e.x with-!

"Oh, my G.o.d!" I gasp, my eyes popping open. I turn to Nick in horror. "Last night, did we-did you...use something?"

He blinks, looking confused at first, then alarmed. "What, you mean, like...Liquid X? 'Cause I swear to G.o.d, I didn't put anything in your drink-"

"Oh-no, I know! I mean, uh..." I pause, and cough self-consciously. "Protection?"

Nick stares at me for a few seconds, then quickly turns and looks straight ahead at the road. "Oh. Um, yeah, actually. I, uh, I don't remember putting one on, but this morning I found the wrapper on the floor, and the condom in the trash. So...I think we're good. Oh-I'm clean, in case you're wondering. I get checked regularly, because...you know..."

My entire body slumps in relief. "Thank G.o.d. I'm-I don't have anything, either. And I'm on the pill, but I've heard of people getting pregnant while on it. I started last year-because my periods were so painful and heavy. You probably didn't need to know that." I laugh weakly.

Nick manages a sideways grin. "I just told you about a used condom I found in the trash. I'd say that makes us even. Do I turn here?"

Oh, c.r.a.p, I'm almost home! "At the next light," I mutter miserably.

I'm home before I know it. I don't remember saying goodbye to Nick, or getting out of the car. I'm enveloped by a kind of numb terror as I let myself in the front door. I would give my entire carousel horse collection for the ability to fast forward myself into the future. Better yet-I wish I could back into the past and undo the past twenty four hours.

Screw it. Let's get this over with, and then if you need me, I'll be drowning myself in the shower.

Trying to keep my mind deliberately blank so I don't faint or puke from stress, I take a deep breath and go looking for Mom.

It's not a big house-where the h.e.l.l is she? She's not in the kitchen, or the living room-or her room. I stick my head out the upstairs bathroom window to check for her car-but it's not there. I guess I was in too much of a daze to notice before. Well, s.h.i.+t...is she driving around looking for me right now? Better check my messages.

Hm, a bunch of missed calls from Johnny and Heather (and one from Bobo!)...nothing from Mom. I scroll through my unread texts-oh, there.

WTF? This is her text, sent at 10:45 p.m. last night: Jules, hanging out w some grils from work. Styng at Carrie's 2nite. C u tmrw unless u decide to go back to dad's. hope u had fun @ dance Who the eff is Carrie? G.o.d d.a.m.n-are you kidding me?! I was freaking out all this time over nothing? And since when does she hang out with the "grils" at work? What-did she go bar-hopping last night? I bet she did. I bet she got freaking drunk-and she probably slept with some random guy, which is why she didn't want to come home and face me. Because I'd take one look at her and say- The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

No, wait. I don't come home on the one night Mom's had off in forever, and I nearly give myself a heart attack on the way here, thinking I'm in deep s.h.i.+t-only to discover that the woman who hasn't gone anywhere but work and the grocery store in seven years was out trolling bars with her drunk and s.l.u.tty friends! Not sitting at home, going crazy with worry about me, with a police scanner in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

That's great. OMG, what a relief, right? I should be down on my knees, thanking the G.o.ds that be.

So tell me why I walk into my mother's room and smash her favorite hand blown gla.s.s vase into about a million tiny pieces?

And don't just say 'cause I'm stupid because...yeah.

Chapter 25.

"So you're not a saint-you're human, like the rest of us. You made a big mistake-but it's not the end of the world, Jule."

Heather's bored, matter-of-fact tone pierces through my bubble of self pity like nothing else could. I'm lying on her pink princess bed like a starfish on a rock, staring up at the gauzy pink canopy, and kind of wis.h.i.+ng I had one just like it over my bed.

"I had s.e.x with his best friend, Heather," I say loudly, as penance. "That's kind of unforgiveable. I can't just blame it on being drunk, either. I put myself in that situation-and I wasn't so wasted that I didn't know what I was doing, you know? I could have stopped it, but I didn't. Because I was p.i.s.sed, and because...I don't know. I was in the mood."

"Dude, you can say h.o.r.n.y." she says around the five pieces of minty gum in her mouth. Then she leans over and punches me lightly in the arm. "It happens, you know. Johnny did the same thing to you, so it kind of evens things up. You both got jealous, turned to alcohol-Johnny hooked up with an ex-girlfriend that he never told you about, while you were still together. You handed over your v card to his best friend-but you and Johnny were broken up. And you have to factor in him going behind your back to hang with her. So..."

I watch as Heather holds both hands out, like she's the scales of justice. She moves each hand up and down experimentally while thoughtfully scrunching up her mouth. Finally, she holds both hands, palms up, at an even height. She nods in satisfaction.

"Yeah, you're even," she concludes, shaking back her red-blonde hair. "One bad deed cancels out the other, and you are now free to start over-if you still want to."

"Oh, my G.o.d. That's bulls.h.i.+t, and you know it." I groan, and roll over to face her. "I'm not getting back together with him. If I did, I would have to tell him-and then he'd kill Nick. And yes, I would have to tell him. And-I don't even know how I can face him now. I feel so-ugh! Like, I should have appreciated my virginity more. You know? Now, one drunken mistake-and it's gone forever. It deserved better." I hang my head in shame.

Heather shakes a little container of mints into her mouth, and mashes it in with her giant wad of gum. "Well, I don't think it's that big a deal, but then you know losing mine was more of a curiosity thing," is what I think she says. "Remember the experiment? Mark-"

"Julian," we say in unison.

I clap a hand over my mouth in sympathetic horror. "Didn't you unfriend him recently?"

"Mmph. No, he unfriend-ed me. He kept leaving stupid comments on all my pics-like, hinting about how he was my first, and how memorable it was. I finally wrote him back on my HizzyJones account, and I was like..." She pauses to spit out her gum, immediately pops more gum into her mouth, then continues. "I was like, look dude, the s.e.x was not good. It was sweaty, awkward, and those moans you keep talking about were because of a bad cramp in my leg. I probably made it seem like I was having a good time, but that was only to make you finish faster. It was either that, or play dead. Then I said, no hard feelings-'cause he's really not a bad guy. Just annoying!"

An idle thought has me pus.h.i.+ng myself up into a sitting position. "Why do girls just...endure it when it's bad. Why don't we just tell the guys to quit that s.h.i.+t? Or, you know...ow."

"For real," Heather agrees around a mouthful of gum. "But dudes are weird. They'd be all injured, and start posting cryptic memes to their profiles. Like the one-who keeps blowing up your phone?"

I s.n.a.t.c.h my beeping phone off the bed, and stick it under one of Heather's many pillows. "It's Johnny." I sigh explosively. "He knows I'm home, and Nick told him I'm not going to Mac's today-I told him to tell the guys I wasn't feeling up to it. Plus, Johnny heard from Ryan that a couple of people saw me leaving the dance, looking upset, so he figured out that I probably saw him dancing with Dani-so now, he's freaking out, and thinking that I'm p.i.s.sed at him. That's why he keeps calling and texting, even though I keep rea.s.suring him that I'm not mad-he wants to come over, but I'm not ready to see him yet. What should I do? Should I just tell him, and get it over with?"

She chews contemplatively, not saying anything for a few seconds. Then she holds out her hand. "Gimme your phone."

I hesitate, but she stares me down until I comply. Reluctantly, I hand it over. She takes it from me, and immediately starts texting away.

"What are you doing?" I ask nervously, watching her.

"Buying you some time," she replies calmly. She gives me back my phone, then reaches over to her nightstand to grab her own.

"What did you say?" I move my finger across the screen, looking for the text.

"Relax. I just said you had your period, and were all kinds of cramp-y. I told him you'll see him in school tomorrow, when you're not so bloated."

"What? Why did you say that?" I stare down at the phone's screen, mortified. "I-that's so embarra.s.sing. I don't talk about stuff like that with him."

"Are you serious?" Heather rolls her eyes. "What's the big? Johnny's a big boy-I'm pretty sure he's aware that you have periods."

"Well, yeah, but I don't discuss it with him. I don't know...I know it's weird, but it creeps me out to talk about biological functions with him."

"Hm. Is it just me, or does it seem like there's a lot of 'stuff' you don't feel like you can talk to Johnny about?"

I shrug self-consciously, playing with the ends of my hair. "No. I just-I'm just really paranoid about what he thinks of me, I guess."