Velvet Skye (Updates Fridays)

The Lie

In three hours, thirty-two minutes, and forty-one milliseconds, I'm not supposed to be a virgin anymore.

At least, that's what my girlfriend thinks.

I'm supposed to be over the moon about it. She wants me to be super-market-slap-happy 'cause tonight's the first night we’re supposed to buy condoms together like the lame couples on the Trojan commercials.

Kat's been saving herself for eighteen years so she can lose it with me. She wants our first time will mean something. But to tell you the truth, I'm not too sure I wanna find out what that “something” is, ‘cause if you need sex to make a relationship magical, you probably never had that “something” in the first place.

That, or you screwed up somewhere along the way. And I did, kinda recently, but Kat likes to pretend that what happened didn't happen, and that what I did wasn't as bad as she thinks. It’s way worse, but she doesn’t need to know that. I lied, she bought it, and we found our way back to being “happy”—at least she thinks we did.

Today she's been Cracker Jack jazzed, 'cause she thinks she knows what's coming. She's got this stupid app on her iPhone called the "V-count," and it's exactly what it sounds like—a virginity clock.

In math class she flashed me her little pink screen from a desk over and I smiled like I meant it. My best friend JJ, who hates sitting between me and Kat, probably saw it 'cause he gave me one of those, so-you're-the-whipped-guy-in-the-relationship kinda looks, and he was half right—but only half.

I wanna love my girlfriend.

I wanna like it when she says that she's got us all figured out. I wanna be excited that she knows weird shit like the fact that tonight mercury's in retrograde, and if we do it in time for the planets to line up that we'll be forever.

Forever used to sound nice.

Us getting into the same college next year used to sound like the best thing in the world, but that was a long time ago. I'm tired of nice, and I'm tired of the same. 'Cause once you know what different feels like, you can't get un-tired of a dead-end relationship. And once you sleep with someone else you can't un-sleep with them, or un-want them, or re-virginize yourself.

Even if I could, I'd lose it to that girl all over again. ‘Cause that girl’s had my complete, undivided attention since the first second saw her, but that girl isn’t my girlfriend.

She’s somebody else’s.

Kat doesn't know that.

But in three hours, thirty-two minutes, and forty-one milliseconds, she probably will.