Page 7 of Sweet Girl
Chapter Three
Kylah
I just about shit a brick when I read Van’s response to me late yesterday afternoon.
Van: I’m in for the movie. How about 7:30 tomorrow night. Meet at Cade’s?
He’d accepted my invite to go see the movie with me. I’ve been bouncing off the walls ever since, barely able to contain myself. I’m sure in the lives of most girls, this isn’t such a big deal. A movie date with a guy they like. But for those of us who have only been on a few dates in our lives, this is huge.
It’s not a date.
I have to keep reminding myself of that fairly significant detail. Even though I am crushing on Van like nobody’s business, I’m not stupid enough to think this is anything more than a friend outing. We are clearly in the friend zone, for more than one reason.
In fact, he’s probably right this very minute asking himself how he can get out of it. He’s my older brother’s friend and likely views me just like all of Cade’s other friends - like the sweet little sister they love to pick on. Just as Carver is doing right now as I sit at the kitchen table in their apartment, waiting not-so-patiently for Van to show up.
“Aw...isn’t that cute? Ky-Ky got all dressed up for her big, hot date tonight!”
I glare at Carver with all the meanness I can muster. Which isn’t much. He sees right through me.
“It’s not a date, Carver...so stop saying that. And don’t you dare say anything remotely similar to Van, either. We’re just friends, you jerk.”
Carver’s right, though. I did put a lot of effort into my wardrobe tonight, including hair and make-up. My light auburn locks are hanging at my shoulders in loose waves, created by the styling wand my mother got me last Christmas. I’d slathered on some mango-spice body lotion my dad brought me back from his trip to a tropical island last year, and slicked on a peach tinted lip gloss.
Instead of wearing the usual T-shirt, shorts and Converse, I chose a flirty floral print jumper with wedge sandals. It barely hits my knees and exposes a lot of leg. My legs are definitely my best assets, in my humble opinion. I actually pulled the ensemble out of Kady’s closet, because I own nothing as sexy-cute as this outfit. She wore it once this past summer and left it behind when she went to school.
I looked nice. Date-worthy, even though it’s definitely not a date.
Wishful thinking. I need to get that idea out of my head. It will only come back to hurt my heart.
It’s then that I feel something bounce off the back of my head. I look across the table and see that Carver threw a wadded up napkin at me.
“Rude much?”
Carver just laughs as he stands up from the couch where he’s been parked the last half hour and walks over to sit at the table next to me, turning the chair around and straddling it. He’s wearing a blue-tank that on the front says, “It’s not gonna suck itself” with an arrow pointing down to his nether regions. Carver is never subtle and always up for a good time. He probably doesn’t even need to advertise with a shirt like that. Most girls would do it on their own accord.
He wears a serious expression as he leans his arms over the back of the chair, adjusting his baseball cap backwards too.
“As the older and wiser of the two of us, I feel it my duty to instruct you on the important rules of dating...”
I tilt my head to the side, my curiosity peaked.
“It’s not a date...” I refute once again, even though I know it holds no weight. “But what is this sage advice you have, o’wise one.”
Carver reaches out his hand, gently taking mine in his very large palm. He stares down at our joined hands for a moment, as if he’s in deep thought, ruminating over whatever he’s about to say to me.
And then he smiles. The smile that only Carver can give women. It’s his ‘I know I’m pretty and you’d love to get down on your knees for me’ smile. Many girls have, of that I have no doubt. He’s the captain of the team and is never at a loss for women admirers and hoops hunnies. In fact, it surprises me that he’s home tonight without company of the female persuasion. Present company excluded.
“It’s very important, Ky, that when the time comes...” He pauses for emphasis, lowering his voice so that I have to lean in to hear him. “That you always swallow. No spitting.”
“Oh my God, Carver!” I shriek, jerking my hand from his grasp and shoving him on his shoulder. Carver throws his head back in laughter, howling at his clever tactics and perverted advice.
“That is so disgusting! Ugh! I can’t believe you just said that to me!”
His laughter dies down and a genuine smile returns to his face as he looks me over with a sympathetic concern. Because I know he knows...although I don’t know how, exactly...but he somehow has accurately concluded that I am still a virgin.
Yes, I know...it’s most certainly not what I had hoped for myself as a college freshman and a few months’ shy of my nineteenth birthday. But it is what it is. I can’t go back through any time travel mechanisms to change my past. I’ve been extremely unlucky in fulfilling the right of passage that most girls my age have already checked off their bucket lists. It’s just never happened for me because I’ve never had the opportunity. And I’m also incredibly awkward and shy. A homebody that isn’t out there flirting and messing around with boys.
I had my first kiss when I was seventeen with my prom date, Billy Bloomquist. It was wholly unsatisfying, very wet and extremely awkward. He was in my biology class in high school, a member of the debate team, and a friend of the boy I really wanted to go to prom with. But I didn’t have the nerve to ask him – and Charlie didn’t ask me – so Billy was runner up.
