Part 11 (2/2)
”The other night you asked me why I never told you how I felt. Well, clearly you didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to tell me how you felt, either.”
Justin stopped punching but kept his arms on the bag, leaning against it. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. ”I thought it was understood. How much more obvious could I have been? All the f.u.c.king songs I wrote you? Did you ever even see me with any other girls?”
”No. But you did admit to kissing someone before that night at Brian's.”
”I did kiss one girl before that night. Wanna know why? Because I didn't want to be clueless as to what the f.u.c.k I was doing when I finally got the courage to kiss you. I never considered it a real kiss. I wanted my first real one to be with you. I wanted everything with you. But I was afraid you were too young, so I was waiting. I didn't want to rush things and ruin it. But you're right. A part of me also didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to tell you how I felt.”
”I wish you had. You were being careful, and I was just clueless. Together, we were...careless.”
”Careful plus clueless equals careless? Did you just make that up right now?”
”Yes.”
”That's pretty f.u.c.king cheesy.”
”Thanks a lot.”
”You'd better get ready for your date with Trapper Con M.D.”
I laughed, relieved that he was smiling about things now. ”Will you help me?”
”Help you? What the f.u.c.k do you need help with?”
”Help me pick out what to wear. Because I think you're right. This is a little skimpy.”
”A little skimpy? Hustler would be calling you tomorrow if I sent them a picture.”
”Alright. A lot skimpy.”
”You can't figure this s.h.i.+t out on your own? It's pretty simple. You cover your t.i.ts and a.s.s. Done.”
”Yeah. But I still want to look good. You know I have a tendency to pick weird stuff. Potato sack couture and all. I feel like I go from one extreme to the other, and I don't know how to dress in between.”
”Fine.” Justin let out an exhausted breath and followed me to my room.
I started to take dresses out of my closet, throwing them on the bed one by one. ”How about this?”
”s.l.u.tty.”
”This one?”
”s.l.u.ttier.”
”Okay. This?”
”You got Birkenstocks to go with it?”
”Alright...this one?”
”Well, that would be one way to get rid of him.”
I covered my face. ”Aargggh! This is so frustrating.”
”I know a solution.”
”What?”
”Don't go on the date.”
”Because I can't figure out what to wear?”
”Yeah. I think you should stay home.”
”You just don't like him.”
”You're d.a.m.n right.”
”Again...why?”
”He just wants in your pants, Amelia.”
”Well, he's not getting in my pants.”
”You sure about that?”
”I don't sleep with guys on the first date.”
He lifted his brow skeptically. ”You've never slept with a guy on the first date?”
”Well...”
”Exactly.”
”Even if I wanted to sleep with him-which I don't-it wouldn't be tonight.”
”Why is that?”
”I stabbed myself again.”
He shook his head and chuckled when he figured out I was referring to my period. ”I see.”
”Why do you think that he's only interested in me for my body anyway?”
”It was his eyes. I don't trust them. You can tell a lot about someone by the look in their eyes. His gave me a bad vibe.”
”Well, I have more going for me than my t.i.ts and a.s.s. So, hopefully you're wrong.”
<script>