Page 119 of Cruel Legacy

LJ rushes up to me and drags me over to my desk. “No, I didn’t. Sit down. I don’t need you to beat up Eloise for me.” My lips twitch. She heard all about me going Mata Hari on those Zeta Nu cunts, but I never told her I did it for her. That’s not a burden I wanted to put on her.

“Oh, you wanna do it yourself? Cool, I got your back. I’ll hold back the other plastic bitches so they don’t jump in.”

“Thea, we’re not fighting anyone. Shit, I don’t even know how to throw a decent punch yet.”

I shrug, dismissing her negative talk. “You’re learning, and with the proper motivation and me restraining your victim, I know you can get two good shots off.”

“Hush. Just let me finish.”

“Okay.”

“So anyway, I was thinking about what she said all day, and was feeling kind of down when I saw all the groups of people and pledges out at the mall. She’s right, you know. I’m alone. I’ve been an outsider to those girls for a long time now. But then, I came here tonight, and you said you’d kick ass for me. You were immediately on my side and didn’t even ask why or what I did wrong. So I know Eloise is wrong. I have a friend. A better one than I could ever have imagined.”

“Of course you have a friend, LJ. I’m not warm and fuzzy like you, but I let you talk my ear off. I cook for you, and I tell you stuff. The only other person I talk to like that is Sasha.”

“I know. It’s just taking some getting used to.”

“What is?”

“That our friendship isn’t like everyone else’s.” When I give her my ‘I don’t know what that means, look,’ she explains, “You know, going shopping and doing trips and lunches and all that other stuff you don’t do.”

“Just because people do lunch and spend their daddy’s money together doesn’t make them friends. Eloise and her group aren’t on equal footing. There’s a power dynamic, and she only likes them as long as she’s the one on top. You and me, we’re equals LJ, and I love doing lunch and shopping. I just prefer vintage or thrift stores and mom and pop restaurants on the boardwalk over fancy Rodeo Drive shit.”

“I don’t know how you can say we’re on equal footing when you do more stuff than me.”

Ah… so now we’ve hit the real reason for her melancholy. Her virgin status. God, why is so much emphasis put on it? You’re not cool enough if you’re still a virgin after a certain age, or you’re some type of unicorn prize to be won if you are.

Both viewpoints reduce women to the sum of a hole with a fold of skin around it. Provided you haven’t actually broken your hymen some other way.

“LJ, it might seem like I’ve done all this cool shit, but in the grand scheme of things, I haven’t. I grew up different from you and certain things were a matter of influence and survival. I learned how to fight for survival, and I had sex, just to see what all the damn fuss was about. When I got tired of hearing the older guys talking about my virginity and the plans they had for me, I took matters into my own hands. But I told you, sex isn’t some great equalizer. Once you have it, what you enjoy will be totally different from me. My kinks won’t be your kinks and it’s doubtful we’re even attracted to the same types of guys. Carrying a weapon doesn’t make me special either. I did it out of necessity. Now it’s as much a part of my signature style as high-top sneakers, band tees, cropped tops, and ripped jeans. If you wanna learn to fight, I’m happy to show you moves. You want a blade of your own, we can go shopping for one. As for sex…”

“You wanna be my first?”

“You’re a sexy bitch. But hard pass, babe. You lack the equipment I like to play with.” That makes her laugh, easing more of the tension in her face. “I was gonna say, if you’re really serious about losing your virginity, just pick some random guy at a party and do it.”

“I couldn’t do that. I want my first time to be special.”

“Special is a state of mind. You can wait until you’re dating a seemingly perfect guy, who takes you to a hotel room decked out in roses and candles and he can be a shitty lay, who talks shit about you afterward, making you regret wasting your first on him. Or you could meet a hot guy at a bar and the two of you have an understanding. No words. Just passion. He rocks your world, you never hear from him again, and at night when you’re alone and frisky you pull that material from your memory and let your imagination and hands roam free.”

“That’s a very specific analogy.” She snorts.

She’s got no idea. “My point is. Special is however you want to define it and it might change many times before and after you actually lose your V-card.”

“So, which experience did you have when you lost yours?”

“The kind where I was in the backseat of somebody’s car and he was finished before the pain of my broken hymen even receded. It was perfect.”

She scrunches her nose. “Doesn’t sound perfect.”

“It was for me. It was my choice, with a guy I liked, and he was sweet.”

“So he didn’t talk shit about you afterwards?”

“Nope. That was the second guy I slept with.The asshole. The one whothoughthe was my first. Jokes on him.”

“Uh oh. What did he say when he found out?”

I smile fondly at my subterfuge. “Nothing. I never told him. It was my secret, and a cherished memory. Like I said. I was happy with my choice.”

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