She followed my gaze to the wall. “Oh yeah, that license plate. He said it belonged to the only girl he ever loved.”
I laughed. “It was on his old Mustang, one that he wrapped around a tree in his freshman year of college.”
She laughed too. “Well, I always figured that it was something tragic. I'm glad it wasn't a person, but I'd probably be sad about it too.” She looked back at me. “Hey, you must know him pretty well if you know all that.”
I smiled. I knew him all too well. “Yeah, we went to high school together. My name's Allie.” It was only a small lie, and I thought that maybe I'd be gone soon enough that it wouldn't get me into any trouble.
She held out her hand and I shook it. Her smile was practically infectious. “Anne. So nice to meet a girl from James' past that didn't despise him. So many of his ex-girlfriends obviously hate him.”
I laughed. “That sounds like James alright. Luckily, I'm not an ex-girlfriend, so I don't exactly hate him.” Not anymore, anyway.
That seemed to surprise Anne. “I'm shocked. You're exactly his type.”
I'm exactly his type, I thought to myself. Considering he had just fucked me senseless a couple of hours ago, I could have guessed at that. I shrugged. “We never hit it off.” Also not technically a lie.
She turned around and put a spritz of whipped cream on my coffee. “Didn't hit it off with Mr. Coleman, huh? Well, maybe you're more my type, then.” She handed me the cup of coffee. “If you're in town for a little longer, you should come see my band play,” she offered.
“When are you playing?” I asked.
She gestured to the stand next to the register. “The schedules are all right there, but I play this Thursday night.”
I grabbed the paper and gave it a quick look. “Maybe I will,” I said.
She smiled. “I'll see you there,” she said, giving me a wink.
I walked away with the steaming mug of coffee. There was a small open table by the window and I sat down. I began idly looking over the schedule, noticing that there was a poetry reading later tonight.
I'm exactly his type, I thought again. Did that mean he had been picking up on girls that looked like me? Or acted like me? I kind of wanted to talk about it with Anne, but I didn't want to give up the fact that I was interested or that I was his stepsister.
I thought of James, laying down with a blonde girl that looked close to me. I imagined him fucking her like he had fucked me earlier, feeling the need to spurt his seed inside of her, maybe even imagining that the girl was me.
Fair is fair, I thought. I had done the same thing with every guy I had ever been with.
I looked up and saw Anne glancing at me. She was the polar opposite of me in appearance. Skinnier than me, much darker hair, the wild streak of color in her hair, the intense green eyes. I wondered if James had ever turned her down. I wondered if that's what she meant by “you're my type” when I said James and I had never hit it off. Suddenly, it dawned on me.
She meant that I'd have to be a lesbian to not hit it off with James.
I caught her looking over at me again, and this time I saw the crack of a smile as she looked away. I was no stranger to the LGBT community, but it was still weird for me to be hit on by a girl. A girlfriend of mine in high school had tried to talk me into having a threesome with her boyfriend once. I was curious, and I had seriously considered it, but in the end I had declined because I thought her boyfriend was gross.
I thought about what Anne had meant. If I had to be a lesbian to not hit it off with James, that meant that he had to bring home tons of women. Part of me realized I should be worried about it, but I had never seen any evidence that he was a cheater. He had specifically said that he was single when he was home for Christmas. Maybe he was loyal, but he just drove women away. When I thought of what a jerk he had been to me when we had lived together, that explanation wouldn't have surprised me at all.
My phone chirped. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at it. It was Nicole, my roommate at college.
Are you coming home tonight?
She was probably planning on having a boy over tonight. I hated it when she brought boys over, but the boys loved the California girl with the curly blonde hair. Still, I hated that they always left the seat up and ate all my chips. But, it would be really rude of me to lie. I sent back a text.
No, I'll be gone for the night.
I waited for a response, but none came. She was probably already making out with whatever guy she had picked up for the night. I started dicking around with my phone, looking at stuff on myFace, doing whatever I could to stop from thinking of James. Stop from thinking of what our future could look like.
It was funny. Part of me thought that as soon as he fucked me or rejected me that I would get this out of my system. That one time was all I needed. Like I could have him once, and it would just wash the need right out of my system. I wished that it could be that easy, that I could get on the train back to my college and forget that tonight had ever happened. That I could forget how much I ached for him to touch me. The thrill I got off just his fingertips on my skin. He was a drug, and now I was hooked.
I knew that I couldn't go back to the way things were, at least for the moment. I thought of his eyes when dilating when he looked at me and I knew I didn't want to, but I needed something to keep me distracted until I could get my next fix of him again. I ran across a picture of Tessa. She had been the one who had convinced me to tell James how I felt about him. I doubted that she could have predicted that I would travel to Boston, demand that he fuck me, and possibly already be carrying his baby. I sighed to myself, then texted her.
Hey. What are you up to tonight?
I knew that whatever it was, it wouldn't be much. She was stuck in Bloomfield at community college while I was out exploring the great big world. I felt pretty guilty about it, but I felt even more guilty about the fact that I hadn't kept in touch with her when I went to college. My phone chirped with her response.