Gnaw

3

Author's Note: Unedited 

"I take you as Valeria?" he asked, simply.

I smiled, it felt as if there were more teeth in my mouth than I remembered- my smile was stiff, awkward, and gummy. I was sincerely nervous, no amount of tums or cigarettes could buzz away the feeling.

"Yes, that's me," I dryly laugh, "I take you as Desmond?" He nodded, taking the weight of his body off of the door frame, shifting to grab something out of his back pocket. He hands me a familiar weight, my phone. I couldn't be any more relieved. I clicked on the side of the phone, its screen bleaming of my background and time. A more natural smile melted onto my face, unlocking it and scrolling through my phone.

Everything was where it was when I lost it, messages were left unread- the ones that were read I remember doing it personally, and no extra apps or things were on here.

In the moment, I could've kissed this man on the mouth from being a good samaritan- like Mendonesa to Greta Zimmer Friedman, the adrenaline of relief, the one sore spot healing. I think my phone wasn't as important as WWII, or perhaps as creepy or unconsenting as Mendonesa. I still had gratitude, a lot of it. But the words don't come out, I only have my dorky smile, in an awful outfit, and now have the only thing I wanted.

It was a race, seeing who can word barf first. Looking into his eyes, there's a tinge of different thoughts processing. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking, or if he was regretting it. If this was the guy I hooked up with, it could be uncomfortable seeing me not dolled up, in fact the opposite, and awkward. I won't deny it, it is not as if I am not self aware from how queer I am or how I act.

I don't judge, if he was to. That is what it does, alters your emotions and actions. Alcohol or drugs force humans into primitive emotions. It doesn't reflect us, our true instincts, but it does force upon impulses. When I smoke, sometimes people can sing loud and annoyingly- but it sounds angelic to me. At the frat, I was drunk and had the impulsive conscience to be freely promiscuous. I wouldn't judge if he was in the same boat as me, having urges, but I don't think I want to stand in front of him if he was to regret- ashamed of his own actions.

I am not ashamed of who I am, sure I get a bit conscious, but never ashamed. I long for the ugly. Being ugly, being weird, being fucking something that isn't the white American dream- I love it.

His mouth opens, not a single sound comes out of his mouth. He closes it, eyebrows furrowing as his mouth makes a firm line, rethinking how to go on about this. Instead of wasting time, in fear of Allie's temperament about me taking some time now, I open mine.

"How did you contact Allie?' I said, the thought popping into my head, "my phone was definitely locked when I dropped it, I am grateful for you to answer, but how did you call back? It doesn't make sense, why didn't you just use your own phone?"

Desmond seems taken aback, as if the words were like venom on his skin. His face shifted from concern, or confusion, to being offended. Something about Desmond, his whole body can tell his emotion. It is as if reading a pop up book, from his fingertips to his eyes, it tells a story before he even does. I wonder if he knows that, or maybe he is doing it to humor my anxiety.

"Valeria, are you asking me if I went through your phone?" He asked, quite seriously, "I would never do something as ludacris."

I rest my face, trying to figure out the next move in the conversation.

"I never said you did, but I do have to wonder. You obviously have an answer to my question, there's no need to get defensive." I shoot out.

"No, I get it. I just wanted to preface that I wouldn't do such a thing. I couldn't figure out your password if you gave me a hint and a half. I looked at the emergency contacts, saw something other than 911- decided it was a best bet to try to call one of them, which gave an answer. I could only reply or call emergency contacts."

I nodded as he spoke, nerves unknotting themselves. He was telling the truth, but there will be trouble to deal with after this, but that was for when I got home.

"Ah, okay" I said with a soft smile, "thank you for explaining and keeping my phone safe, I will see you around!"

I didn't want small talk, I was trying to avoid it before it developed into something inescapable- like girl talk. I swiftly turned, trying to get my foot to hit the first step, but was caught off guard from his voice speaking up again.

"May I have your number?"

My head whipped around, almost naturally cracking it.

"My number?" I said slowly, feeling the words leave my mouth bittersweetly.

"Yes, I have other things to discuss with you about that night, I was going to ask if you wanted to maybe come in or so, but I can see you have someone waiting for you."

It froze, in all honesty. I am not used to someone asking me out, or well coming into their home. This definitely is the guy who I hooked up with, but I do not understand what more to the conversation I could bring. It was not as if he wanted a date, but to just talk about the night of the incident. It felt like a set up, or something childish like making up a time to meet up at night to have sex. I didn't care for it.

Unless it was an STD. I tried to stay composed, my mind racing itself to figure out how far someone could go in an alleyway, especially me. I understand being drunk is one thing, but there is no way in hell that I took everything off to catch anything, right?
Allie would most definitely have told me, right then and there in that diner if I was half ass naked at that frat, it would make complete sense. Maybe he isn't as clean as he looks, what could he have? I mean dozens of people have diseases they don't know they have, like HPV.

I take a light sigh, wishing I had a cigarette. I don't think I wanted to keep the conversation up anymore, nor do I want to hear about the what ifs. I think if it was something that serious, he would have mentioned it beforehand- but then again, drunk.

"I don't think it could be as easily explained over the phone or that I want to explain it in a public setting." He sheepishly spoke.

Now, I know that he definitely hooked up with me. It is the definite answer that popped the tension I had, he definitely gave me my phone back, and definitely has a secret stored for me. It is most likely the gift of HPV, but I can't deny his fearlessness in talking about it.

He is owning up to his mistake, taking charge to make sure I know, and assures that my feelings won't be hurt. It was almost sweet to hear, but bare minimum in my mind.

"Oh, alright," I said thinking as I spoke, "I will give you a number and a time to come over to tell me about it. Is it urgent?'

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Alright, I won't keep you waiting then."

I felt goosebumps as his hand slightly touched mine as he handed me his phone. I typed in my number, saving it to his contacts, before departing.

When I sat into Allie's car, it felt immensely different. Coming from the cold into the heated car, I wanted to rip off my jacket right there and then.

I glanced over at Desmond's door, the figure was gone, as if our moment was never there. The only noise was the radio, the station mumbling a song I didn't know. Allie hummed along as she drove, smiling as she reminisced- as if the song told an inside joke, telling her about a time she no longer lives.

"Hey, is it okay if he comes over one of these days?" I questioned.

Her eyes darted to the side, glancing at me, before looking ahead. Her hands are firmly holding onto the steering wheel, tightening and releasing, thinking of an answer. In the end, we are adults, we both pay rent. It is not as if she had something over me, I just wanted her opinion in the matter. I don't like inviting people unannounced to the house, leaving her unready for a guest.

"I don't mind," she pauses, "but give me today after classes to finish some of my chores before he comes over."