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We sure could have used that guard dog energy tonight, I think to myself as I shudder at the memory of finger-mouth boy.
I’ve never personally met John, but apparently he’s a drummer, he’s massive, and he beat the crap out of Hazel’s ex when he assaulted her at work last year. He sounds terrifying. Whenever Hazel’s current boyfriend talks about him, I swear, a little pee comes out of him.
I’ve only heard stories here and there of the incident, but I was an unfortunate witness to some of the instances leading up to it. When Hazel dumped Justin, none of us expected him to go full psycho. I’ve seen friends get nasty texts from their ex-boyfriends, but I’ve never seen one show up to their work belligerent, threatening everyone, and then demanding to get back together.
Bit of a drama queen move if you ask me.
Despite the somewhat disgusting end to girls’ night, I’m sort of glad we went out. Since moving to Toronto, it’s been challenging making new friends, and these two swept me up into their circle before I had a chance to say no.
“So, you gonna fill us in on why we ran out like the building was on fire, star girl?” Nessa calls sloppily from ahead of us. Idon’t flinch at the nickname, even though I want to. They don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell them if they asked.
Nessa wobbles as she walks down the street with her arms stretched out at her sides, pretending to tightrope walk the lines on the sidewalk. I wasn’t counting her drinks. She seems to be pleasantly drunk for the moment.
“Did it have anything to do with the guy who put his tongue in your mouth?” Hazel tosses her arm around my shoulders as we walk towards the subway station. Her calm demeanor balances out Nessa’s wildness, or her ‘chaos goblin energy,’ as Hazel puts it.
The odd beginning to their friendship is inspiring—though I’m sure neither would recommend sleeping with the other’s boyfriend and catching them in the act. Thanks Justin, for that. Even though they’re a bit older than me, the disconnect one might expect isn’t there. I’m as much a part of this group as they are. When I’m finally able to travel the way I’ve been dreaming of, I’m going to have to ensure that I come back frequently. I doubt they’re going to willingly release me from the bonds they’ve thrown on me.
I don’t mind one bit.
“Stella Moore!” Nessa exclaims, “Were you about to finally get some? Why the hell did we leave then? I thought we decided that tonight was the night you would get sexed up?”
I choke out a laugh, regretting ever telling them my body count, which is exactly zero. It’s not like I’m saving myself, I simply never had the urge or opportunity.
I grew up in a small town right outside of Hamilton, Ontario where everybody knows everybody. Could I have hooked up with one of the twenty boys in my graduating class? Probably. Would the entire town have been gossiping over every detail of it? Absolutely.
So yeah, not exactly worth it.
Then, once I graduated, I had to help take care of my dad, and that’s been my life up until last year. That’s when I moved to Toronto permanently. I couldn’t bear to stay in the same place, with the same people, the same stories, and the same possibilities anymore. I needed more. More adventure, more novelty, more experiences, more freedom.
Less baggage.
I cringe, my face pinching as I hesitantly admit to them, “He wasn’t the best kisser… It was actually incredibly gross.” I huff, tilting my head back to look at the stars. “And then he put his finger in my mouth—” Nessa fake gags. Or real gags, I’m not sure. “And it was dirty! Then, all I could think about was where else he would put his disgusting fingers and got the heck out of there.”
“Probably a good call,” concedes Hazel. “Sorry that men are gross.”
“I’m sorry you don’t like women,” Nessa adds. “It would make the whole ‘men are gross’ problem a lot less of an issue.” We all laugh at that. Nessa likes to play the field with both men and women, and with the stories she’s told us… I’m a little sad that I’m not attracted to women too. They definitely appear to be the better option.
“I just need to find a guy who’s not gross and rip off the band-aid.” I kick an empty can off to the side, earning a glare from Hazel who picks it up and runs it to a nearby trash can. I roll my eyes.
“Or you could date and see if there’s anyone actually worth sleeping with instead of trying to get it over with?” Hazel says gently, falling back into step.
I nod noncommittally. She’s not wrong, I could. It doesn’t mean I want to.
A relationship isn’t something I want for myself. At least not right now. Most relationships I’ve seen have ended insuch devastating heartbreak that I’ve never wanted one of my own. Having seen the full spectrum of what can happen when you give someone that much of yourself—abuse, cheating, discontentment, loss, resentment—it doesn’t sound worth it to me. I’m content enough on my own, and young enough to change my mind later. For now, I’m happy being just me.
Sex is a different story. That’s something I undoubtedly want.
“So, are we all heading home or is there more to this girls’ night?” I ask, changing the subject not-so-subtly.
“Bitch, it’s your birthday!” shrieks Nessa at a volume that is not acceptable for the subway station we’ve arrived at, earning glares from other riders as her shrieks reverberate off the cement tunnel. “The night can’t be over yet!” I love her energy, but we’re all pretty tired. My birthday was technically yesterday, November 4th, but everyone was working, so we’re out tonight.
On a Sunday.
“Besides, we barely saw you all summer! If you weren’t working, you weren’t even in the city!” Nessa pouts.
“You went home for vacation, right? To see your dad?” Hazel pries.
“Yeah, that’s true,” I say, pushing down the churning nausea and putting on my most dazzling smile. Most of the time a smile is all you need to get someone to not question things any further.
