Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 41

"You okay?" Morgan asked as soon as I arrived.

"Why?" I snapped. I'd taken the bus like I'd always done because parking was a nightmare in the U-District, but even the extra time it took using public transportation hadn't quelled the boiling pot of emotions left over from fourth period.

"Because you seem all on edge about something."

"Brett."

I didn't need to say more. Understanding bloomed in her eyes, and she nodded sympathetically. "Just make it until Friday, Alexis."

"I'm trying."

Gavin swung by our table, diverting Morgan's attention from me. She gave him a smile that lit up her face, but he barely acknowledged it. Instead, he said to me, "Hey, Professor, whatcha going to have?"

"Is it too early for vodka?"

His grin left me wondering if he'd be happy to supply it for me in exchange for something. "Depends."

"Never mind. Just a soda—diet."

"You got it, babe."

Babe? My spine grew hackles, arching in indignation from the derogatory term.

Morgan grabbed my wrist, silently urging me to get my shit together.

It worked long enough to let Gavin get out of ear range. "You seriously like this guy?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Besides the fact he's hot and in college and has those narrow hips that are just perfect for riding?"

I leaned on the table, massaging my temples. "Why does everything today revolve around sex?"

"It revolves around sex every day—you're just too wrapped up in yourself to notice it." She took a sip of her coffee through a straw and flashed Gavin another million-watt smile when he delivered my can of Diet Coke. "So what did Brett do today?"

"Actually, it started yesterday." Thankfully, Morgan had the patience to wait for me to spill my guts about the meeting at my house before saying anything. "Just when I think he's above most of the boys in our class, he does something completely immature."

"Your problem is just that—he's a boy. You need a man."

"He said I was too uptight and that sex might help me cope with my stress better."

"He's right." She set her cup down and hid behind her copy of Aristotle's Poetics.

"Thanks for your support. Gee, and here I thought you were my best friend."

She peered over the top of the book. "I am your best friend, which is why I'm agreeing with him. Sex is fun. You'd probably enjoy it if you gave it a try. You're just too picky."

"I'd like to know I'd be with someone who respected me and my body, thank you."

"All men respect a woman who's comfortable with her sexuality and doesn't just use her body as a bartering chip. You just need to do it and get this whole 'losing your virginity' thing out of your system. Then, once you no longer have that hang-up, the fun can begin."

"I wish it was that easy." In truth, I wished I was more like Morgan when it came to boys and sex. She didn't play games. She didn't suffer from slut-shaming or morning-after regrets. To her, sex was purely physical and nothing more. I was too much of a coward to follow her path. I suspected I'd form some sort of emotional attachment—good or bad—to the first guy I slept with.