Attractions

Starlyn Taylor was NOT my girlfriend. She never would be. We were so different it wasn’t even funny. She was this loud, bright, obnoxious, yet perfect being.

I didn’t say that very often about a lot of people.

But she was. Perfect, I mean.

Star was absolutely and irrevocably perfect in ever single way, except for one way.

She would never be mine.

~~~~~

“Patty sweetie, hand me my bra,” she let her long arm hang off the edge of the bed, the rest of her naked body still hidden beneath my comforter. Her orange nail polish clashed against my forest green bed spread and her fingers wiggled back and forth, waiting for me to comply.

I was already up, showered and clean from last night’s events, getting ready for practice. I always let Star sleep in on days like this, when she had nothing to do for the day. She always seemed so tired, even though she rarely let it show.

“Sure Star,” I said, scooping up the pink leopard bra from the dresser (God knows how it ended up there) and gently placed it in her outstretched hand.

The top of her blonde head appeared, along with those gorgeous blue eyes and I smiled at her.

The covers fell away a she slipped on her bra and stretched like a cat. If I could compare Starlyn Taylor to any animal it would most definitely be a cat.

She walked around my room, picking up various articles of her clothing from yesterday’s outfit. “Last night was fun,” she grinned and her eyes sparkled. “That last move was. . . well I can’t say I’ve ever done that before.”

I laughed, a toothbrush in my mouth and I almost choked on the minty toothpaste. “Says the past gymnast. I thought you were going to kill me the first time we got together.”

Her laugh was musical and full, like she was. “Where’s the fun in the warning sweetie pie? You liked it obviously or else you wouldn’t be sharing your bed with me otherwise,” she kissed both of my cheeks, before climbing back into her clothes and walking around to my other dresser and picking up her small clutch purse. “You should get going before either Captain kills you. You would be of no use of me then,” she winked.

“I can give you a ride home,” I said, pulling on a shirt and following her down the stairs.

“Then you would be late,” she said, shrugging on her coat and her knee high Eskimo boots. “You’ve got a game tonight anyways darling. I’ll do my walk of shame like every other slut in Chicago. I’ll be gone tonight, so I won’t be over and probably not tomorrow night either.”

“Work?” I asked.

She nodded. “Work,” she stated and left without another word.

Star still hasn’t told me what she does for a living. Hell, I wonder if she even told Natalie, her best friend.

Probably not. Star was the kind of girl who made you think you knew everything about her, when you’ve barely scratched the surface.