The Fuck List

1.

B L A K E

S E P T E M B E R

As my thrusting accelerated, my moans grew louder, as did Avery's, indicating that she was close to orgasm. I pounded into her, her nails digging deep into my back. The bed creaked beneath us, but it was old; this was more common than I'd like to admit, and at this point, I had come to learn to ignore it. I grabbed her breasts and squeezed them in my hands. She shrieked my name when she came, which made me squirm in pleasure.

I quickly came after her and pulled out, rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash can beside my bed. I rolled off her, collapsing onto the bed, the smell of sweat and sex filling the room.

She turned to face me, her hair frizzy and in her face. I tucked her loose strands behind her ear.
"So, can I ask you something?" She laid her head onto my bare chest, which was soaked in my sweat; and I nodded, panting, as I finished coming down from my high.

"How come you've had so many girlfriends?"

I shrugged and sat up, pushing her off of me. Lighting a cigarette, I paused to take a puff before exhaling the smoke, watching as a giant cloud formed, filling the room. Avery coughed and reached for her clothes.

"You can shower and find your way out, baby doll," I smirked. She looked at me, her face forming a frown. I could tell she didn't like my answer. She gathered her clothes from the floor and scrambled to the bathroom.
I watched as she entered the bathroom, my eyes never leaving her ass. She has a nice ass. I waited until I heard the shower water running to look at my phone.
I had three missed calls from my father and a few texts from him I couldn't care to read.

I felt terrible for Avery. I was going to dump her anyway, most likely tomorrow. When Avery and I first got together, she always wore black. Her signature look was a pair of fishnet leggings paired with a black and white plaid skirt, a band shirt with long sleeves underneath, and black platform boots. She always had makeup on, but I didn't think she ever needed it.  I always told her that, but she never wanted to believe me. She always talked about herself as if she was the most disgusting creature she'd ever seen. But I didn't think so. Avery was slender and tall. Her natural hair was often disguised with vibrant colors, and she had her nose pierced. Avery had nine piercings; her eyebrow and her lobes made three. Her nose and each side of her lip had piercings, snake bites as they were called, and both her nipples and her tongue were pierced. I tend not to go after alternative chicks; they're all super high maintenance, but there was something different about Avery, something I had found interesting and exciting. It was something new. Even though I felt terrible, I knew it had to happen. Relationships never last. That's all I was taught, at least, and that's what I still choose to believe. Plus, she was all part of a game. I didn't care about her. It had to end soon.

***

My parents divorced when I was ten, seven years ago, but despite that, my parents had always been awful to one another. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was full of resentment and hostile exchanges. My mother, barely emerging from her adolescence at fourteen, was thrown into motherhood with my birth. My father, on the other hand, was a man of eighteen who hunted comfort at the bottom of a bottle, his drinking habits making him a stranger to sobriety. The law turned a blind eye to the age difference that should have sent him behind bars and, in a cruel twist of fate, would eventually grant him, full custody of me.

After Mom gave birth to me, Dad started to drink more. He blacked out every night and was sleeping with other women, which Mom didn't know about until a year later when she walked in on Dad with another female, both naked. She shut the bedroom door, grabbed me, and threw a few bags of clothes and necessities we'd both need into her red Jeep. Mom was in hysterics, trying to calm me down, compose herself, and get us somewhere safe. I wasn't sure what happened; all I knew was that she left my father. But we had nowhere to go. We couldn't exactly go to my mom's parents. Her mom was an alcoholic, and her dad died when she was younger. This didn't leave us with many options, but Mom wasn't about to have me live on the streets. Maybe I could see her doing such nonsense if it was just her, but that's just the type of woman Mom was. She was not selfish enough to turn to the streets with a baby.