sure if anyone could say her name innocently. “Tell me more about her.”
With a sarcastic smirk, I shove the candy stick back into my mouth. “Because she was my first?”
“Because that's when you started to lose you.” Before my eyes can look away he continues. “You abandoned yourself in an attempt to gain something. Walk through this and at the end you will know who the fuck Ryder is.”
My fingers dig into the back of my hair. I tug at the turmoil building. I attempt to tear out chunks of anxiety to keep my mind from once again admitting that he is right. Maybe he has a point. I believe, in my own mind, losing Presley is where the foundation of so many of my fuck ups lay. I've relived so many tragic moments time and time again. I'm not sure bringing them to the light is for the best. I'm not sure giving them light will help.
“What did you do after you broke up with her? Did you fuck around like your father suggested?”
A wretched taste of the memory tests my gag reflex. “I should've. I should've taken that time to stick my dick in anything that would have me. Things might not have ended up as shitty as they did.”
“Explain.”
“Pres and I...” Her name closes my eyes like a silent prayer meant to be lit by the candles of deities for greater ones. Shaking my head, I start again, “There was this girl named Bambi. Bambi Summers...”
A couple days after Presley and I split, Bambi landed in my lap. Literally landed in my lap. I was drunk at some party and she was playing beer pong poorly, which landed her in my lap. She didn't get up. She just sat there and threw herself at me until my dick in her mouth shut her up. I meant it to be a one night thing, but it was so easy. She was so easy. I need easy. I want easy. I want anything that can help keep my mind off the beautiful one that I see when I close my eyes at night. Cigarettes help like beer does. Momentary soothing. I want something with a longer affect.
Bambi is short, slightly attractive, but slutty enough that I'm getting pats on the back for finally cutting the virgin loose. I don't want pats on the back for hooking up with someone who reminds me why it's important to get my dick checked regularly. I don't want a pat on the fucking back at all in this godforsaken war that our school has seemed to turn into. I want my girl back.
The two of us stroll in our marketing class together hand in hand. She says she switched into my class because her parents want her in a class that will look good on her college application if she ever fills it out, but she's full of shit. She just wants to be around me all she can, whenever she can. It's annoying when it's not a mutual feeling.
Marketing is the one class Presley and I share. The wedge between us is physical as much as it is mental now. We sit on direct opposite sides of the classroom. Bambi and I sit towards the middle all the way on the right, Pres sits toward the back all the way on the left. The ground in between is soil shared by people who enjoy swimming in the animosity between us.
Presley walks in and my heart sinks. It always does when I see her, hell even when I don't. If someone mentions her name to me or in passing, hell anything that even sounds close to it, my heart shatters. My father who I thought would be proud I did something he suggested didn't seem to care one way or another. In fact he made sure to remind me, not to go around knocking any girls up now that I wasn't going to be 'keeping it in my pants'. I almost drove across town, dropped on my knees, and begged for Presley to take me back when he said that. To undo all the misery my life was turning into. I'm not even sure what stopped me.
“I can do a fun trick with this lollipop,” Bambi giggles as she leans over my desk. In a seductive voice she coos, “Wanna see?”
“Sure babe.” I shrug and try not to let my eyes follow my heart. She shoves the entire thing
With a sarcastic smirk, I shove the candy stick back into my mouth. “Because she was my first?”
“Because that's when you started to lose you.” Before my eyes can look away he continues. “You abandoned yourself in an attempt to gain something. Walk through this and at the end you will know who the fuck Ryder is.”
My fingers dig into the back of my hair. I tug at the turmoil building. I attempt to tear out chunks of anxiety to keep my mind from once again admitting that he is right. Maybe he has a point. I believe, in my own mind, losing Presley is where the foundation of so many of my fuck ups lay. I've relived so many tragic moments time and time again. I'm not sure bringing them to the light is for the best. I'm not sure giving them light will help.
“What did you do after you broke up with her? Did you fuck around like your father suggested?”
A wretched taste of the memory tests my gag reflex. “I should've. I should've taken that time to stick my dick in anything that would have me. Things might not have ended up as shitty as they did.”
“Explain.”
“Pres and I...” Her name closes my eyes like a silent prayer meant to be lit by the candles of deities for greater ones. Shaking my head, I start again, “There was this girl named Bambi. Bambi Summers...”
A couple days after Presley and I split, Bambi landed in my lap. Literally landed in my lap. I was drunk at some party and she was playing beer pong poorly, which landed her in my lap. She didn't get up. She just sat there and threw herself at me until my dick in her mouth shut her up. I meant it to be a one night thing, but it was so easy. She was so easy. I need easy. I want easy. I want anything that can help keep my mind off the beautiful one that I see when I close my eyes at night. Cigarettes help like beer does. Momentary soothing. I want something with a longer affect.
Bambi is short, slightly attractive, but slutty enough that I'm getting pats on the back for finally cutting the virgin loose. I don't want pats on the back for hooking up with someone who reminds me why it's important to get my dick checked regularly. I don't want a pat on the fucking back at all in this godforsaken war that our school has seemed to turn into. I want my girl back.
The two of us stroll in our marketing class together hand in hand. She says she switched into my class because her parents want her in a class that will look good on her college application if she ever fills it out, but she's full of shit. She just wants to be around me all she can, whenever she can. It's annoying when it's not a mutual feeling.
Marketing is the one class Presley and I share. The wedge between us is physical as much as it is mental now. We sit on direct opposite sides of the classroom. Bambi and I sit towards the middle all the way on the right, Pres sits toward the back all the way on the left. The ground in between is soil shared by people who enjoy swimming in the animosity between us.
Presley walks in and my heart sinks. It always does when I see her, hell even when I don't. If someone mentions her name to me or in passing, hell anything that even sounds close to it, my heart shatters. My father who I thought would be proud I did something he suggested didn't seem to care one way or another. In fact he made sure to remind me, not to go around knocking any girls up now that I wasn't going to be 'keeping it in my pants'. I almost drove across town, dropped on my knees, and begged for Presley to take me back when he said that. To undo all the misery my life was turning into. I'm not even sure what stopped me.
“I can do a fun trick with this lollipop,” Bambi giggles as she leans over my desk. In a seductive voice she coos, “Wanna see?”
“Sure babe.” I shrug and try not to let my eyes follow my heart. She shoves the entire thing
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