novacane | griezmann

10 // ELLIOTT + ANTOINE

"When your will is broken,
When it slips from your hand
And there's no time for joking;
There's a hole in the plan."

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Elliott

"Alright, something is wrong. Spill," My sister interrupted me in the middle of something I was saying as I spoke to her.

"What do you mean?" I inquired, with a frown. "Nothing is...wrong."

"Val, I can hear it in your voice. You sound exhausted and depressed! What's going on over there at Uni?"

I sighed and bit my lip. I trusted my sister. And I was an adult, so it wasn't like I should be embarrassed to talk to her about sex. "Okay," I spoke. "I lost my virginity a week or two ago, and ever since, everything has just been so...different."

My sister—Rosalind—squealed. "Oh, how was it! Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," I muttered. "I don't. That's the thing, it was with a guy who doesn't even care." I let out a breath. "And my first time was cringeworthy. I was so close to crying. At least it feels good now."

"Valentine, I'm sorry. It should always be with someone special." Rosalind tried to sympathize, but she just couldn't relate to me. Her boyfriend loved her and cared for her. "So you two are seeing each other, I take it?"

I sighed and looked down at my computer screen. "Yes, but we aren't dating. He doesn't even like me, not like how I like him." I mumbled, staring down at my hands. "And there's this other guy who likes me, it's safe to say that much. We've gone out a few times, but I just don't feel much for him."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing." Rosalind stated, her voice surprised. "Is Valentine Elliott, the nerdiest and shyest girl I know, really torn between two men—one of which is great in bed and the other of which is kind to her?"

I rolled my eyes. "Rosalind, this is serious."

"Okay, I never said it wasn't." She pointed out. "Who is this man that stole your virginity?"

"Are you near a television right now?" I inquired, biting my lip.

"Yeah, I've been watching The Walking Dead reruns for hours. Why?"

"Turn to the match, France vs. Germany, and look at number 7. You know, the one who does that silly dance after he scores—"

"Oh my god," Rosalind gasped. "Antoine! You're sleeping with Antoine?! From high school!"

"You remember him?"

"Well, how could I not? You were in love with the boy!" Rosalind snickered as she teased me. "But my goodness, what on earth is he doing?"

"I don't know," I rose my eyebrows as I watched the channel replay Antoine's goal—and his adorably silly celebration. "It's cute, I think."

"It's cringeworthy. So, you're sleeping with Antoine...I can't believe it. Well...has he finally opened up to you?"

"No," I mumbled. "I'm telling you, that's the issue. He only calls me when he wants to have sex, or do something that will lead up to us having it."

"Oh," She grinned. "Like Hotline Bling?"

"Ironically enough, I believe that's the dance he's trying to do." I spoke, turning the television off. I'd had enough of watching Antoine play; I was getting too excited, and I was starting to feel proud, which was something I definitely shouldn't be feeling.