Tasting Never (2 page)

“
Which
one?” I ask. Lacey, my roommate, doesn't know because she
doesn't give a shit about frat houses. She doesn't give a shit about
men at all. I wish I was like her. Maybe if I was into girls, I'd
have an easier time falling in love with someone that wasn't a
complete piece of shit? But then again, Rick isn't a complete piece
of shit, and I don't want to fall in love with him either.

Lacey
shrugs and takes off her sweater, tossing it over her computer chair.

“
It's
tonight at six, do you want to go?”

“
Any
party that starts at six is a party that I'm not interested in,”
I tell her as I stand up and stretch. Lacey gives me a weird look,
and I notice that my skirt's ridden up a bit. I push it down and
gather up some clothes. I feel disgusting. I didn't change last
night, and I can feel that guy's sweat all over me.

“
Come
with me, please,” Lacey begs, and I know she's afraid to go
alone because her girlfriend might ignore her and run off with some
frat boy. It's happened before. “I'll give you twenty bucks.”

“
Keep
your money,” I tell her as I grab a towel and the basket that
holds my shampoo. “I'll go, okay? I'll meet you here
tonight.”

“
Five
thirty,” Lacey says to me with a smile as she brushes a comb
through her pretty, blonde hair. “I don't want to be late.”
I try not to roll my eyes and tell her that nobody gives a fuck if
you're late to a frat party.

“
Sure,”
I say as I leave the room in a hurry, rushing to get to the bathroom
before everyone else does. There's this communal atmosphere that
descends over the room when there's more than three girls in the
bathroom at one time. I don't understand it, and it makes me
uncomfortable. I never join in the conversation and have to use the
stall at the very end, the one with the broken faucet, so I don't
have to look at them looking at me and wondering what the hell is
wrong.

I
get to the bathroom just in time and manage to shower, get dressed,
and put on makeup before anybody else comes in. When they do,
they're all wearing blue and yellow face paint and talking about
the game.
I don't know if it's
football or basketball or baseball, but what I do know is that it's
an integral part of their lives that I don't understand. I leave as
quickly as I can and head back to my room, toss my stuff on the floor
next to my bed, and stand there for a very, very long time.

When
I spy the book on the desk next to my bed, I feel a sense of relief.
Reading. I can get lost in a world and spend days there. Besides,
reading a book gives me a goal. It's that sense of purpose that puts
a temporary bandage over my uncertainty and lets me waste away the
rest of the day without anymore negative thoughts.

3

I
put on a red dress for the party, something that matches my hair and
brings out the green flecks in my hazel eyes. I don't wear tights or
underwear, just a nice set of heels and a coat that has a hidden
pocket on the inside, somewhere I can put my wallet.

Lacey
drives us which is nice because it's too cold outside to walk. When
we get to the party, I see Rick standing out on the front lawn,
talking to Lacey's girlfriend. It's too much for either of us to
handle, so Lacey takes us to a bar instead.

I'm
not more than three feet in the door when I spot him.

There's
a guy standing in the back corner. He's wearing a black T-shirt and
a pair of low cut jeans that emphasize the curve of his ass. His
arms are covered in tattoos and his hair is black and spiky, gelled
up enough that I know he cares but not enough that I think he wasted
time slaving over it. This is the kind of guy I like. I know that
before he turns around and sees me staring at him. His dark eyes and
suggestive smirk tell me that this is the kind of guy that cheats on
you when your back is turned and that spouts a lie with every other
word he says.

Unfortunately,
this is the kind of guy that I want. At least temporarily. I'm
never looking for something long-term, usually just a few weeks or
even a few hours. Thanks to my red dress, I don't have to think up
anything to say. The guy walks right across the room and pauses next
to me. Lacey is already gone, hitting on some chicks near the pool
tables.

“
Hi,
I'm Ty,” he says and his voice oozes over me and fills all the
little cracks in my psyche. If Rick were to do that, if he could
ever even think to do that, maybe he could glue me back together,
keep me in one piece? This Ty, this person with wicked sexy lips and
arms that curve with gentle swells of muscle, fills my cracks with
foam that expands and breaks me into a million pieces.

“
I'm
Never,” I say and do my usual explaining thing that people need
when they hear my name. “Never is my first name. I don't give
out my last name to strangers.” Ty smiles and I can't help but
feel this surge of heat in my lower belly. The woman in me wants the
man in him. She doesn't care why or how or if he'll even be there
later. I hate her for that. I hate myself and my hormones, and I
hate men. I hate everybody.

Ty
reaches out and takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. His
nails are rough and cracked like maybe he does hard labor or
something.

“
Do
you want to dance, Never?” he asks me, and I look around him at
the empty expanse of floor between us and the bathrooms.

“
This
is a bar, not a club,” I say to him as I reach inside my coat
and find a piece of gum. I like to chew gum when I'm around other
people. That way, if I run out of things to say then I can always
blow a bubble or something, pretend that I'm busy even though I'm
not. “You can buy me a drink though.”

“
Are
you sure you're legal?” Ty says, and I don't like his attitude.
He didn't like that I turned him down for a dance. I bet that's his
best pickup line. Girls probably think it's cute. I bet he scores a
lot by using it. I don't need pickup lines to score, so if Ty
doesn't want to play then I'll find somebody else. I shouldn't be
thinking like that. I don't
need
to fuck somebody, but at
least if I do, then there'll be one, tiny, little second where I feel
like somebody cares about me, even if it isn't true. Plus, seeing Ty
has made me horny and I can feel my thighs clenching in anticipation.
They want him almost as much as I do.

“
Cute,”
I say as I shrug my jacket off and let him see my shoulders. I have
nice shoulders, smooth and covered with a dusting of pale freckles.
Guys go nuts for them. Ty sees them alright, and his eyes travel
down to my chest, searing me with heat. “I bet you say that to
all the girls.”

“
Maybe
you're right?” he says, as he drops my hair and takes a step
back. “Are you jealous?”

“
Hardly,”
I say as I try to move forward. Ty blocks my path.

“
Want
to go somewhere else, somewhere we can dance?” I stare at him,
wondering if he's really serious. He's cute, but he can't function
without his pickup line. That's a bad sign. Still, maybe he'd be
interested if I asked him outside.

“
We
can go somewhere else,” I say to him, closing the distance
between us and standing on my toes. I let my heels rise off of the
dirty floor as I press my lips to the smooth line of Ty's jaw and put
a smoldering kiss there. “But I don't want to dance.”
Ty looks down at me and smiles. When he does this, he gets dimples
in his cheeks that make my heart palpate painfully. Something about
other tortured souls calls to me, makes me want them. When I look
into Ty's eyes, I can see that we're exactly the same. He's as
wounded as I am, and we're both bleeding all over one another. It's
a recipe for disaster.

“
No,”
Ty says and although I can see in his eyes that he still finds me
attractive, a light goes off somewhere in there. He isn't interested
anymore. I've failed some kind of weird, little test that he likes
to give to girls. “But that's alright. Enjoy your night,
okay?” I watch him turn away, dismissing me just like that.
It turns on this faucet of rage inside of me, and I just want to
throw myself at him, tear at his pretty hair and the earrings in his
nose and I want to rip them out and smash them with my heels, grind
them into dust beneath my feet.

“
Yeah,
that's alright,” I say, feeling so mean I can't stand it. I
don't feel like myself when I'm acting like this, but I can't let him
walk away from me like that. This is why I hate people, even when
you have the lowest of expectations, they let you down. “Because
I don't pay for it anyway.” Ty stops walking and turns around.

“
Are
you calling me a whore?” he asks and then just shakes his head.
He holds up his hands which are so covered in rings and bracelets
that they jingle. “You know what,” he continues as he
opens his eyes wide and looks straight at me. “Just forget
about it. You're not worth it.” Ty turns away again, and I
let him go. My heart is pounding so hard against my ribcage that I
can barely breathe.

I'm
not worth it?

Why
am I not worth it?

“
Fuck
you!” I call out, and then I'm turning away and pushing through
the doors of the bar. I wrap my jacket tightly around myself and
walk the four or so blocks to the convenience store. By the time I
get there, the balls of my feet are on fire, and I have to pause
outside and walk back and forth on flat feet for awhile. The guy
inside the store is watching me like I'm a crazy person, but that's
only because he's never walked four blocks in a pair of heels. If he
had, he'd give me a free pair of shoe inserts and tell me to come on
in.

When
the pain subsides a bit, I slip the shoes back on and go inside. I
don't know what I'm there to buy, so I walk around and don't even
care that the employee is staring at me like I'm a thief. That's
okay. If he wants to think that, I don't care. Tears are streaming
down my face, and I can hardly breathe. I can't stop thinking about
the words that Ty said.

You're
not worth it.

I
want to tell myself that I am, I am worth it, but I can't because I
don't believe it either. The reason that Ty's words have cut me so
deep is because he's right. I'm
not
worth it. I'm not worth
anything. I grab a box of donuts and a six pack of beer and head to
the counter.

“
Gimme
a pack of Marlboro Reds,” I say as my eyes catch movement
outside the glass doors. I dash the tears away with the back of my
hand. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me.” Ty and his
friends, Lacey included, are coming into the store, laughing and
smiling and leaning on one another like they're old friends.

“
Hey
Never,” Lacey says as she pretends to be as drunk as the rest
of them. “I thought you'd gone home. What are you doing
here?” The girl she's leaning on starts to giggle and gets the
whole group going. Except for Ty. He's moved into the chip aisle
and is purposely keeping his gaze off of me and on the snack food. I
hope it's because he feels bad for what he said to me, but I guess
that it's really because he doesn't like me and doesn't want to get
roped into hanging out by association.

“
I'm
picking up my three favorite therapists: sugar, alcohol, and
nicotine.” This is the only time the group stops laughing, not
even the clerk smiles at my joke. I don't look at Ty. I slam my ID
and debit card down on the counter and hope there's enough left on
there to cover the cost. I've blown through all of my financial aid
for the semester and half of my Perkins loan. I tell myself I'll
make up for it by pirating my chem book off the internet. It's
overpriced anyway.

“
Come
hang with us, Never. We're going dancing,” Lacey says as she
reluctantly lets the others untangle themselves from her and go
stumbling through the convenience store. It only takes one of the
guys a few seconds to bump into something and knock a pile of
magazines to the floor. At least the clerk isn't staring at me
anymore. I'm getting really fucking tired of being stared at.

“
Never
doesn't like to dance,” Ty says from his position next to a
display of Doritos. “She told me herself.” I watch him
out of the corner of my eye, but I don't stare. If I do, I think my
gaze will be hot enough to melt him, to burn those colorful tattoos
down his skin, bleed them across the white linoleum floor.

“
Are
you kidding?” Lacey says, poking me in the arm as I stuff the
cigarettes into the pocket of my jacket and give her a look that
says,
You talk, you die.
She ignores me or doesn't get it.
Either way, she continues to blabber, oblivious to the fact that I'm
pointedly headed for the door. “Never's mom was a belly
dancer. She's great at it. Never, I mean, not just her mom.”
I pause for a moment, tucking th
e
donuts under my arm where they'll no doubt get squashed. Doesn't
matter anyway; I'm such a sucker for powdered sugar, I could
practically eat it out of the bag. Plus, I have cigarettes and
booze. The night isn't a total fucking waste.