The Slut Survival Guide
fourteen.
Secret #15: Avoid listening to music when doing anything with a guy. Memories could get attached to them, and those are hard to shake off.
"I am so so so so sorry!" Cathy was pacing around my room, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette. "You know I didn't mean for that to happen! He came over, and I thought I hid it well for the time being. That asshole dug through my things!" Her eyes pleaded at me as she held her hand up to her forehead, still holding a cigarette.
I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fumbling with Cathy's cigarette box. There were only three left, and she had just bought it this morning.
"I know, Cath," I mumbled. I felt like I had been saying that all morning.
She stopped pacing and stared at me. "You believe me, right?"
I shrugged and continued opening and closing the box.
"Are you serious?" She shrieked. "We were making out! I got up to go to the fucking bathroom, and I guess he took it then! What the fuck would I gain from giving it to him?" She screamed.
"Cathy! Shut up! My parents are downstairs!" I glared at her and then bent my head back over the box. I didn't know what else to do.
"I just can't believe you think I'm lying," she hissed, her thin eyebrows narrowed.
"I never said that," I said. "It's just, I mean, how would he know you had it?"
She shrugged. "I guess he just saw it. I didn't exactly get rid of it yet."
I took out one of her cigarettes. "Gimme a light," I said.
"You don't smoke," she said, fishing her purple lighter out of her pocket.
"A lot has changed," I mumbled sarcastically.
"So, what do you do about that boy?" Cathy asked me, tossing me the lighter.
"Oliver?" I asked in return. The lighter fell by my thigh and I picked it up. I flicked it a few times before lighting the cigarette and awkwardly placing it between my lips.
Cathy nodded. "Is he mad?"
I inhaled. My lungs overflowed with smoke, and I coughed. I caught Cathy's smirk out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah, I don't smoke. Shut up."
She chuckled. "I know. So, anyway, is he mad?"
I shook my head and removed the cigarette from my mouth. I let it sit precariously on my knee, the burning tip dangling off of the edge. I watched it, careful to not let it burn my skin. "I don't know. I haven't talked to him yet."
"Well, you might want to get on that," she pointed out, grabbing the cigarette box from its perch on my other knee and lit up. I watched her in silence.
She grabbed my hand, letting the cigarette dangle between her lips. "You have to fix this. Tim has probably told him by now. The longer you let it sit, the more mad he's going to become. Call," she urged, handing me my phone from the nightstand. She sat down on the bed next to me.
I exhaled and looked down at the phone. "Alright. But you have to go."
Her face fell. "But I want to be there for you! C'mon, I fucked this up. Let me be a pal."
I shook my head furiously. "Get out," I mumbled.
Looking slightly hurt, she picked her lighter up and placed it on my nightstand. Then, she dug out an unopened box of Marlboro cigarettes. "For you," she said. "Good luck." She stood up and walked out of my room. I heard the front door shut, and I watched her get into her car from my window. I looked back down at my phone.
His name seemed larger than my other contacts. Oliver. I pressed the green Send button and watched it dial his name. I heard him pick up. "Hello? Tanya? Fuck, we need to talk."
I silently listened to him breathe for a moment.
"Tanya? Are you there? Don't fucking ignore me, Tanya. You called me. Come on, this is so immature," Oliver snapped.
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
"Cute, Tanya. Really cute. Well, if you won't talk to me, fine. But I want you to know." I heard him inhale. "I really liked you," Oliver said, shakily.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek but I wiped it away and held my breath. I didn't want him to hear me cry. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Yeah. Call me back when you're ready to actually talk," he said, and hung up the phone.
I grabbed the box of cigarette and walked over to my window, fumbling as I opened it. I took out a cigarette and lit up, inhaling immediately.
I didn't even flinch.
"I am so so so so sorry!" Cathy was pacing around my room, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette. "You know I didn't mean for that to happen! He came over, and I thought I hid it well for the time being. That asshole dug through my things!" Her eyes pleaded at me as she held her hand up to her forehead, still holding a cigarette.
I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fumbling with Cathy's cigarette box. There were only three left, and she had just bought it this morning.
"I know, Cath," I mumbled. I felt like I had been saying that all morning.
She stopped pacing and stared at me. "You believe me, right?"
I shrugged and continued opening and closing the box.
"Are you serious?" She shrieked. "We were making out! I got up to go to the fucking bathroom, and I guess he took it then! What the fuck would I gain from giving it to him?" She screamed.
"Cathy! Shut up! My parents are downstairs!" I glared at her and then bent my head back over the box. I didn't know what else to do.
"I just can't believe you think I'm lying," she hissed, her thin eyebrows narrowed.
"I never said that," I said. "It's just, I mean, how would he know you had it?"
She shrugged. "I guess he just saw it. I didn't exactly get rid of it yet."
I took out one of her cigarettes. "Gimme a light," I said.
"You don't smoke," she said, fishing her purple lighter out of her pocket.
"A lot has changed," I mumbled sarcastically.
"So, what do you do about that boy?" Cathy asked me, tossing me the lighter.
"Oliver?" I asked in return. The lighter fell by my thigh and I picked it up. I flicked it a few times before lighting the cigarette and awkwardly placing it between my lips.
Cathy nodded. "Is he mad?"
I inhaled. My lungs overflowed with smoke, and I coughed. I caught Cathy's smirk out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah, I don't smoke. Shut up."
She chuckled. "I know. So, anyway, is he mad?"
I shook my head and removed the cigarette from my mouth. I let it sit precariously on my knee, the burning tip dangling off of the edge. I watched it, careful to not let it burn my skin. "I don't know. I haven't talked to him yet."
"Well, you might want to get on that," she pointed out, grabbing the cigarette box from its perch on my other knee and lit up. I watched her in silence.
She grabbed my hand, letting the cigarette dangle between her lips. "You have to fix this. Tim has probably told him by now. The longer you let it sit, the more mad he's going to become. Call," she urged, handing me my phone from the nightstand. She sat down on the bed next to me.
I exhaled and looked down at the phone. "Alright. But you have to go."
Her face fell. "But I want to be there for you! C'mon, I fucked this up. Let me be a pal."
I shook my head furiously. "Get out," I mumbled.
Looking slightly hurt, she picked her lighter up and placed it on my nightstand. Then, she dug out an unopened box of Marlboro cigarettes. "For you," she said. "Good luck." She stood up and walked out of my room. I heard the front door shut, and I watched her get into her car from my window. I looked back down at my phone.
His name seemed larger than my other contacts. Oliver. I pressed the green Send button and watched it dial his name. I heard him pick up. "Hello? Tanya? Fuck, we need to talk."
I silently listened to him breathe for a moment.
"Tanya? Are you there? Don't fucking ignore me, Tanya. You called me. Come on, this is so immature," Oliver snapped.
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
"Cute, Tanya. Really cute. Well, if you won't talk to me, fine. But I want you to know." I heard him inhale. "I really liked you," Oliver said, shakily.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek but I wiped it away and held my breath. I didn't want him to hear me cry. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Yeah. Call me back when you're ready to actually talk," he said, and hung up the phone.
I grabbed the box of cigarette and walked over to my window, fumbling as I opened it. I took out a cigarette and lit up, inhaling immediately.
I didn't even flinch.