Shane had nothing to fear at the apartment.
"He meant nothing," Roselyn assured Dryden.
"But you were with him," he sneered at her.
"I was sixteen and I wasn't with him. I refused to date him. He was just my best friend in high school."
"But you almost slept with him, you sl-" but he thought better of finishing the word.
"You ass, I did not! Didn't you listen to a word of what I was telling you? He asked, offered really, and I declined. And I got out of the car. You, and only you, have had sex with me, I swear to Artemis. That is all that should matter to you. When you ravished me after knowing me all of two weeks, you were the one that took my virginity."
"Why'd you even tell me about him?" he snarled, dissuading the stout waiter from refilling their sodas.
"Because you asked," she reminded, pushing a black olive off her Greek salad with such force that it landed in his lap. He had wanted to know if anyone had ever come close to taking her virginity, indifferent to the degree to which this was not an appropriate conversation for the Red Hook Diner. "I didn't think you wanted me to keep secrets from you, so I told you. Noah didn't come that close and there was another boy I actually dated who swore his virginity would be mine when I wanted it, though he would barely kiss me for fear his father would somehow know, so that wasn't going to happen."
He huffed, searching his black pants for any evidence of the olive. Fortunately, black faux leather pants do a good job of resisting staining from olives. "I do want you to be honest, but I can't believe that you used to be-"
"A completely average teenager?" she added before he could cut her again. "Doing exactly what teenagers are supposed to. I kissed a few… dozen… boys, dated a lot, fooled around a little bit, then I found you. You know what happened then? I forgot about stupid high school crushes and focused on you. Plus, it's not like I freak out at your sexual history."
This was likely a good move on Roselyn's part, since Dryden had embellished it a little to try to appear more worldly and desirable. As far as Roselyn knew there had been a handful more sex partners who had, in reality, only kissed Dryden at the goth clubs he still frequented. "I just… thought you were pure," he said after a long sigh.
"I was pure, before you defiled me, and don't you forget it." She wouldn't be bringing him back to the relative comforts of her apartment now, and he hoped he already knew that he had blown his chases of getting in her pants for at least a week. She hated having her history thrown in her face, particularly that one stupid moment with Noah that led to so much else. Wordlessly, she got up to wash her hands, the only part of her that would have been tainted by her interactions with Noah as a teenager. Well, as a younger teenager, at least. Dryden didn't bother looking up from his food to watch her move past the Formica counters toward the bathroom.
The bathroom was not what one would call commodious, but it was clean and private enough for Roselyn to cry. Dryden was being a jackass and a hypocrite and why did she even put up with him? Because he was older, she told herself. And sexy as all hell. Even with black fingernails sharpened to points, he could do things to her she couldn't imagine. Even his attempts to act like a vampire had yet to be overtly grating. He really was a sweet, caring guy most of the time. She just couldn't stand all these fights whenever he thought she might have ever been anything but his sex kitten. But she didn't arrive at Annandale fully formed without taking the chisel to herself more than once, without rubbing up against a few friendly boys to smooth an edge or two.
She left the bathroom after dabbing at her eyes with toilet paper and making certain her make-up was still intact. As she walked by the counter, previously empty, a phlegmatic called her attention.
"Excuse me?" she asked, sniffling slightly.
"You seemed… distressed. Boy trouble?" an craggy but familiar old man seated at the counter asked her.
Roselyn didn't know why, she was not the type to share her problems with anyone not already involved, but she wanted to tell him everything. A sideways glance at her table, at Dryden taking pains not to look directly at her talking to this man, pushed her hand. She sat on a stool next to him. "Not troubles with boys, exactly. Trouble with boy is more like it. My boyfriend-"
"That fellow sitting over there, shooting daggers at me?" he interrupted.
"Yeah, Dryden. I'm just getting damn tired of his always thinking I'm being unfaithful and that stuff I did before I even knew him should be held again me now."
The man shook his head slowly, clucking his tongue. "Now that is a shame, a man who can't appreciate what he has. Until you're dead, the book hasn't really been written. Not even then, for some. What you did only brings you to this point, to who you are with them. He should be grateful you sowed some wild oats." The man grinned a yellow smile, but a kind enough one. "It means you won't be so keen on sowing more now, right?"
"Right, I'm not interested in anyone else," Roselyn confided, though she almost wish she were.
"He doesn't… hit you or anything, right?" the man asked, raising his bushy gray eyebrows. "Make you bleed?"
"If he tried it, I would fucking kill him," she assured, then bit her lip. "Excuse my language."
"Eh, there's worse things in this world than the occasional misused oath. Run along to your beau before he works himself up even more. We don't need his blood boiling," he said, motioning back to Dryden who was clenching and unclenching his jaw as he looked at the spot where Roselyn should be sitting.
Roselyn walked back, taking pains not to increase her pace. She'd be damned if she let herself become some ridiculous abused spouse, jumping because her partner was in a pissy mood.
"Who the hell was that you were talking to?" he growled as she took her seat again
She looked back to the now empty stools. "I don't know. A friend, I think."
Red Hook is a serialized novel being written by Xen, also known as Thomm Quackenbush. It didn't happen to you, your best friend, or his cousin. Why? Because it didn't happen. All persons, living, dead, undead, or unliving are purely coincidental. Any real persons are used fictiously. What you are about to read is not a news broadcast. No portion of this book may be distributed without the expressed written consent of Xen. Feel free to rope your friends into reading it, though. Do it or I start shooting PuppyOrphans.
He is published by Cave Drawing Ink and syndicated throughout the internet.
