AN: Welcome! Thanks for reading.
I love everything bagels. In a gluten-free, low-carb world, I am the taboo bagel eater among my friends. Lightly toasted with a layer of cream cheese in the middle, I indulge. I indulge so obscenely my roommate Rose stares at my food with raw longing as she inhales her nicotine breakfast just outside the French doors of our kitchen.
"I hate you."
I shrug one shoulder and take another bite, licking the poppy seeds off my lips. "I love you too, darling."
I smile, flipping the newspaper to the Sunday comics. "Bite my bagel instead. You know you want to."
She rolls her eyes and I swear she's salivating. "If I eat a bagel, I'll bloat. I have that thing tomorrow."
"Oh yes. The thing. We mustn't forget the thing," I say.
"You try wearing a white bandage dress."
"I wouldn't. Bandage dress sounds awful. Bandages go on wounds."
"Maybe they'll put me in something different. I don't know."
"I read yesterday that fifty percent of animal species on Earth will be extinct in the next fifty years and you're worried about the clothes you wear?"
"Bella, really? I know the world is doomed and humanity is one step away from extinction, but until then, I have bills. Besides, this part pays really well."
"You sell-out. Pushing groundbreaking tampons that are really the same tampons that have been on the market for years just in new, colorful packaging. I'm telling you, the Diva Cup is the way to go for sustainability."
She flicks the top of my newspaper. "There are plenty of women out there who aren't into putting silicone cups up their hoo-ha like you."
Rosalie is right. I'm all talk. I can't even bring myself to be fully vegan because I love my Nikes and who on God's green earth could live without cheese? She can't sell me on fluoride toothpaste though. That stuff is the devil. I'm in that awkward stage somewhere between being an Atheist on the verge of existential crisis and being one of those girls who rename themselves Lotus and walk around in yoga pants saying Namaste and shit. I think my base chakra may be unbalanced, but who has time for meditation? You know what happens when I meditate? I'm bombarded with ridiculous teenage traumas like in ninth grade when Edward Masen took my Lisa Frank notebook and drew a dick on it. It even had a happy face on the tip and a few hairs on its exaggerated ball sack. What's worse is I didn't notice it until my dad was purple-faced and pointing at it with one of his sausage fingers screeching, "what in the fresh hell is that?" Needless to say, I died in that kitchen as my dad tore my notebook cover off. I never saw it again.
My innocence was fully obliterated the following day when I walked into homeroom with my newly naked notebook and that red-headed piece of trash asked me how I liked his artwork amid snickers from his friends. He was mean to me in that irritating way that if he would have stopped, I kind of would have missed it. I gave as good as I got and even I can admit he was very pretty when he wasn't talking. Everyone knew we couldn't stand each other. I had no idea then that Edward would eventually become one of my deep, dark secrets. While it was assumed I went off to college a virgin, that wasn't the case. Edward and I slept together after a chance encounter in Seattle. It was clumsy, painful, and over after twelve thrusts. I counted. While I was expecting my nemesis-turned-lover to have a gherkin in his pants, something a girl could handle and maybe tease him over, he had a gigantic dick neither one of us knew what to do with. I held my breath almost the whole time because not only was he knocking at my womb's door, his face was in my face and I had to burp really bad. We'd been eating tacos. I'm a very considerate person.
"Are you over there being a pervert?" Rose asks me as she opens up a non-fat yogurt.
"No. God. Why?"
"You're staring at the wall breathing heavily. How long has it been?"
"Theo. So like four months." I got my own in my twenties. I figured if I could take King Kong Dong right out of the gate, I could handle anything. After making the scary decision to drop out of college after my first year, I was too busy building my career as a travel blogger to stay in one place long enough to have a real relationship. Now that my blog has grown and morphed into a major travel and lifestyle website that hosts myriad guest bloggers and video content, I have a lot more time on my hands. More time to sit and reassess where I'm at and where I'm going. What I want now that I'm financially set and ready to put down roots. I've had lovers all over the world and I regret none of them, but things change. In the last year, my random hook-ups have become emptier and much less frequent. I want more. As thirty approaches, I'm starting to feel my age. Seeing all of my friends aside from Rose either married or getting married doesn't help. She could be with Emmett, but she has this crazy notion that giving in to the love of her life will be the final nail in the coffin of a career in film that has never quite taken off. She works at Whole Foods when she isn't scoring parts in feminine hygiene adverts.
"I'm going out with some friends tonight. Maybe you should tag along. You remember Alice, don't you?"
"How could I forget? The first thing she ever said to me was to compliment my tits and ask if she could photograph them."
"That's what she does. She has a book out now. A picture of your tits could be worth thousands if you weren't so modest."
"It's not modesty. It's my tattoos. Isn't the rule for nudes to keep your face and any other identifying factors out? My quill and ink well covers the side of my rib cage pretty much." I have a tattoo from every continent aside from Antarctica.
"Have you never heard of concealer? I have some Cover FX that works wonders."
I scoff. "That was like a year ago anyway. My boobs aren't meant to be on anyone's coffee table, in a book or not."
"That'd be hot. Getting bent over a coffee table. A glass one with a camera underneath."
"Rose. No, honey. Nothing looks good smashed flat like that."
"You're probably right."
Of course I am. "Where are you guys going anyway?"
"Never heard of it."
"It's new. Alice got an invite because she's a big deal now. She asked me if I wanted to come."
"If it's invite only, I don't think I'll be allowed in."
She begins typing away on her phone. "I'm texting Alice now."
"What are you saying?"
"That you'll show her a tit for an invite. Maybe lick a clit."
I gasp and throw my rolled up newspaper at her as she cackles. I fucking hate my best friend.
AN: Thoughts? I'd love to hear from you.