Page 136 of Dirty Roulette
Payton’s been nothing but supportive. After each hearing, we’d lay on my bed talking through the proceedings and counting the days leading up to the verdict. The time on the clock would speed up, and we’d start chatting in the early evening, doing homework, eating dinner and by midnight we’d end up naked between the sheets, her smooth legs wrapped around my waist as I cleansed her with pleasure.
Charlie walked in on us on Wednesday morning as I was in mid secession of making love to her best friend. It’s probably the third time. We didn’t hear the end of it from her. Something about it burning the retinas out of her eye sockets, and we need to learn how to lock the door.
I’m panting as the treadmill slows, coming to a stop and I hop off with sweat running down my face. I grab my cell and find my messages to Payton.
Ryder: I’m almost done. What do you wanna eat tonight?
Payton: I’m miserable OMG. I don’t know if you would beable to handle me.
Ryder: What, why? What’s wrong?
Payton: I have the worst cramps *Tears*
Ryder: Cramps, why do you have cramps?
Payton: OMG you’re stupid! I’m out of my shit, and bleeding to death.
Ryder: Oooh, well we can’t have that now can we.
Quickly, I shower and leave the gym in a rush. There is a Walgreens about two miles north from the college and I drive down the streets like I’m in a high-speed chase with twenty cop cars. When I get to the store, my sneakers squeak against the tile floor. I’m panting and reading the labels on all the aisles. I’m confused as hell about what I’m looking at. For half a minute, I stared at the ugly green bag of Depends reading the back of it.
“Can I help you find something?” An older lady with a messy gray bun in a light blue shirt with the store’s logo stumbles up to me. Her trolley wheels behind her with boxes to restock the shelves.
“My girl says she’s bleeding to death, and she’s cramping and out of her shit.”
She curls her lips into her mouth as if she is sucking back a laugh at me holding a bag of adult diapers.
“Oh, she’s on her period.”
“Yeah...”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Really? Those aren’t gonna help her. She’s gonna break up with you after handing her those.” She laughs through her nose. I’m in my twenties majoring in engineering, but I have zero knowledge about vaginas and their bleeding.
I stare at the bag, hold it tight with both hands, and start sweating. “Right...”
“If you go down to the end, you’ll find the maxi pads and tampons. Midol is by the pharmacy. It’s a hot pink box. You can’t miss it.” She points me in the right direction and then continues to pull the trolley down the aisle, heading to the different soaps and shampoos they sell. “If you don’t bring her some snacks, you’re as good as dead, too.”
I put the Depends back on the shelf and pretend this conversation didn’t happen. Scratching my head, I stare at all the boxes of tampons, even more confused than I was before. Cotton, organically grown, extra absorbency, scented supers. What the hell is a Diva Cup?
I head back to the front of the store, snatch a mini cart near the double doors, and toss one of everything into the cart. I rest a foot on the bar of the rear wheels and push myself around the store as if I’m on a skateboard. The Midol was less confusing, but when I went to the candy sections, I had no idea what she would be in the mood for.
My head meets the cold metal handlebars, thinking back to when I’d take her and Charlie to the gas station. It’s vague, and I barely remember what they would dump on top of my bag of Flamin Hot Funyuns. A bag of M&M’s, Sour Patch Kids, and Gummy Bears. Those seem like good selections.
The freezer section barely had any ice cream flavors, but no one can go wrong with vanilla. Snatching other bags of chips fills the cart to the brim and I make my way to the check-out.
The total eats my tips from last night, but a paycheck is pending in my account with the extra hours I put in. The General manager took me off tip wages to help my finances a bit better.
When I reach the dorm room, I’m finishing off leg day by carrying all of the plastic bags that are biting into my arms as I make my way down the hallway to her room number. I knock and there is a shuffle of footsteps before the padlock against the wall unlatches.
Payton cracks open the door wearing her cute pajama shorts and my baggy Nirvana shirt. So that’s what happened to it – she stole it from my closet. The realization makes me chuckle. But for her to be bleeding to death, she sure is hotter than hell.
Her jaw drops to the floor, her eyes watering within seconds, and she starts hysterically crying. “Why do you have all that stuff?”
“You said you were out!” I lift up the bags, and she paws at them, her lips curling under her tiny sobs mixed with laughter.
