Slutgarden

Jeremy’s POV

I could sense Zeb staring at me as I began to pull out of Derek’s driveway, hoping that I wouldn’t nearly go over the lawn as I had many a time before.

I tried to ignore the burning sensation that his stare was giving me, trying to fight it off, so maybe he wouldn’t bring it up.

“Jeremy.”

“What?” I responded back simply, a strain playing in my voice. I nervously turned up the stereo, I didn’t even care what was on, I just wanted to make it obvious that I really did not want to talk about it. Yes, I knew I had a problem. Yes, I knew I had to get help. No, I did not need one of my best friends constantly on my fucking ass about it.

He leaned forward and turned off the stereo. “Stop it.”

“Stop what, Zebekiah?”

“Stop fucking ignoring this! You know you have a problem. Everyone does! Me, you, Derek, hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Harley even knew! I don’t know why you do this. At first I just saw it as you being a manwhore, but now its turned into you basically tearing apart girls’ hearts, and I’m fucking sick of it. You need to get help, Jeremy.”

“No I don’t. I’m just having a good time.”

“Having a good time doesn’t mean being 16 and having fucked over 25 girls, most of which you don’t even remember their last name. When did you even lose your virginity?”

This was always the clincher in this redundant argument that we always seemed to have. It not only proved Zebekiah’s point, but it made it clear to me that I did indeed need the help, and that it was something more than what even he thought it was, but I denied that to myself time and time again.

I swallowed slightly, “When I was 15. A year or so ago.”

“You have fucked over 25 girls in a time span of a year, ‘or so’. That’s awful. You’re going to get a fucking disease, Jer! I mean, back at Derek’s, sure, I was joking around about it, but its fucking bad! And most of the time, you’re not even sober when you do it. And when you are drinking or getting high, you’re always so fucking…distant to the rest of the world. I’ve probably never seen you smile when you weren’t sober. And not none of that fake bullshit that everyone can see right through.”

I knew he was right. I knew that something was terribly wrong with me, that there was something more than sex addiction. I wasn’t addicted to the feeling of sex, as wonderful as it was, but I was addicted to the feeling sex gave me. The feeling that gave me emotions again, the feeling that removed the numbness, the feeling that made me feel alive. Made me feel as though I was actually part of this fucking shitty ass world.

I sound like Derek, only opposite. He would always talk about how “numb” those pills made him feel. And here I am talking about how “alive” sex makes me feel.

I began to realize how long our awkward moment of silence had been, when I luckily pulled into the parking lot of Nixon Skate Park. Looking across at my best friend, I began to feel a pang of guilt for not taking what he said into heart.

“Hey…I’m sorry man. I just, I don’t really think it’s a problem for me, though.”

He exulted a long sigh, rubbing his eyes with his hands and then looking at me, slightly flipping his brown hair out of his eyes. “Its all good. Just, be careful.”

I nodded and got out of the car with him when I began to come conscious of the fact that what I had said was a lie.

I didn’t not believe it was a problem, I didn’t want to believe it was a problem.

But I already did.

*

Zebekiah’s POV

I looked over to Jeremy as we walked into the building to pay the usual $3 to watch the competition, wondering what the fuck was going through his head.

He was going to end up ruining his life, how could he not realize that? He has come close way too many times, and one of these times, his luck is going to run out. And he’s going to have such a rude awakening, it will be ridiculously insane to him.

I pushed on the metal bar of the door, opening into the building. A guy with a few slightly sun-faded tattoos on his arms and a lip ring adorning the left side of his lower lip was in the booth, messing with his phone. He looked up at the two of us as we both pulled out the money of our pockets.

We handed over the cash, soon being returned with yellow paper wristbands that were slipped onto our arms. Today was the End of Season Competition, and one of our friends, Justen, was in it and he was planned to win for his level, which was Expert.

Right now, two of the Advanced kids were going at it, they looked no older than 8th grade, maybe 9th. They had the almost stereotypical sun-bleached shaggy hair and ripped skinny jeans and a shoelace being used as a belt, their shoes were ripped up at the sole and sides.

I watched the thinner one do a hospital sex-change, which I guess was impressive for his level. Jeremy elbowed me in the side and gestured with his eyes over to one of the benches behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw a small group of the equally stereotypical girls that hung around Nixon. Black, blonde, or multi-colored hair, maybe one or two facial piercings, ripped skinny jeans, a fitted band t-shirt, and moccasins.

It almost sickened me. These girls sat around here every day, trying to get one of the douche bags who skated around with his shirt off in the summer, with the cheap ass chest piece tattoos and lip piercings, it was almost repulsive, thinking these girls will simply sit out in the summer heat and eat the cheap chips and Monsters that the building provides, just to maybe possibly get played by one of these guys.

But this time, they were staring at me and Jeremy. This was the exact reason I switched to pure street skating. I was sick of these girls, but no, of course Jeremy wasn’t.

He was walking ahead of me, gesturing me to follow him. I guess I could go, I mean, there wasn’t probably another 45 minutes before Justen’s level would even compete.

“Hey there.” said one of the girls sitting in the middle. She had reddish colored hair that resembled tomato soup with black bangs, and a disgustingly infected septum piercing. She was wearing a Carnifex shirt, and I almost wanted to ask her if she even knew the least about their discography.

“Why hello.” Jeremy said as he bowed for the girls, gathering smiles and giggles from the lot, “My name is Jeremy, and this is my friend Zebekiah. Who are you girls?”

They went one by one, telling us our names that we would each probably forget later, I didn’t even waste the brain cells to even try to remember their names. I was so sick of girls flirting with me.

I wanted one girl, and one girl only. My sweet, sweet, princess Karly. I would give my life to have her back, than to have these fucking annoying slutty scene girls following me around at the mall. She was taken away from me, and that was one of the things that made me worry even more about Jeremy.

If he kept running through girls, he would possibly never really know love, until it was taken from him. Like it was from me. And I doubt these mallrats could ever really understand love either, especially with Jeremy.