Page 21 of FWB

Kenny

T he first full week in October, Tiegan invites me to her house just outside of Nashville for the first time. Her aunt is in the hospital for a routine procedure, and her mom is staying with her. So Tiegan has the whole house to herself.

I pull into her driveway and turn off my ignition. When I get to the front porch, she opens the door to greet me before I knock.

“You found it! I know it’s a little out of the way, but I appreciate you coming over,” she tells me with one of her blinding smiles.

“It wasn’t so bad of a drive here.”

She gives me a quick tour of the main house before leading me through the kitchen and out the back door that exits to a fenced-in backyard. We walk a cement pathway to her shed, and she opens the door.

“This is me,” she says with a wave of her arm.

I take everything in. Her walls are light charcoal gray with a navy blue accent wall in front of me that has gold and silver glitter mixed throughout the paint.

It creates the illusion of the night sky when the light hits it.

A gallery of different pictures and ornaments adorn the accent wall.

Concert posters line the other three walls, some signed by the artists.

After noticing the decor, I take in the hundreds of books she has collected.

“You must read a lot. You have so many books,” I note.

“I don’t really watch television, so books are my main form of entertainment. I love immersing myself in another world that’s so drastically different from my own. Most of these books are still on my Tbr, though.”

“Tbr?”

“To be read. Unless the book becomes a favorite that I plan on rereading, I usually trade my unwanted books at McKay’s to get new ones.”

“I love McKay’s.”

McKay’s is a large, two-story warehouse that houses thousands of books, movies, video games, music, and more.

“Me too. It’s my favorite place in the city.”

“It’s one of mine too.”

“We should take a McKay’s trip together sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, not wanting to get her hopes up that it would be a date.

I know we took that trip to Asheville, but that was different.

We weren’t here. Going to a concert isn’t the same as going shopping together.

It seems more couple-y. And as bad as I want to get closer to her, I don’t dare.

I’m still not ready for anything serious.

At that moment, the cat door swings open and a skinny black cat enters the room, jumping on the bed, meowing his head off.

“This is Berlioz. He’s my favorite little asshole, but don’t tell the others. I rescued him and his two siblings, Marie and Toulouse when they were just a few weeks old. I had to bottle-feed them every few hours,” she gushes as she pets Berlioz.

“Did you name them after The Aristocats? ”

She beams at me. “I did! It’s one of my favorite Disney movies, right behind Pocahontas. ”

That explains her left thigh tattoo. I recognized the distinct compass and leaves surrounding it as being from the movie Pocahontas. “I’ve noticed your tattoo, and always wondered about its meaning.”

“Yeah, I know it’s controversial, but I’ve always loved the message that it sends—that you shouldn’t judge another person based on their background and the way they look.”

“I’ve never given much thought to it before, but I guess you’re right. I haven’t watched any Disney movies since I was a kid. I guess I could never connect to them.”

“Because you never actually got to be a kid?”

“I guess so.”

We stay silent for a moment before she ushers me out the side door that leads to her patio area.

There’s a cerulean blue hammock and some lawn chairs placed haphazardly around a fire pit.

The slight breeze in the October air causes Tiegan to shiver, so she starts to put some chopped wood into the fire pit, taking out a pack of matches to light it.

While she’s getting the fire started, I go back into the main house to pour myself a glass of Jameson.

“Hey, can you grab me a beer out of the fridge?” she calls from the open back door.

“Sure thing.”

I open the refrigerator and release a can of Jackalope Brewing Company’s Bearwalker from its container before heading back outside with our beverages. This must be Tiegan’s favorite beer. She drinks it all the time.

Tiegan is already snuggled up in her hammock next to the roaring fire when I return. I hand her the beer and take a seat next to her.

“Mind if I smoke?” I ask while pulling out the joint I had rolled before coming over.

“Only if you don’t share.”

I light the joint, take a drag, and hand it to her. She takes a long drag, the cherry glowing red in the darkness, before letting out the smoke with a large cough.

I laugh. “Yeah, it’s good stuff. It’ll get you.”

“No kidding. You know, I didn’t actually start smoking weed until I went to Washington. Now I can’t function without it.”

“No shit? I’ve been smoking since middle school. I kind of got into a lot of trouble in my youth. I just did what I wanted and screwed the repercussions.”

“I was always a good kid. I never snuck out or went to parties. I took sips of my mom’s alcohol every now and then while she wasn’t looking, but I found it disgusting. She drinks really cheap liquor.”

“I guess if you’re going to be an alcoholic, you might as well do it on the cheap.”

“I guess so. I didn’t really start putting myself out there and acting my age until I left for college.

When I moved out, I kind of rebelled. Well, not so much ‘rebel’ as I came into my own, making my own choices for the first time ever.

Thinking my own thoughts and owning my actions. It was freeing.”

“Did you date a lot in college?”

“Not at all.”

This throws me for a loop. “No one? The entire four years?”

“Nope. I had a crush on a guy who was an art major for most of those four years and then sometime after college. We had some gen-ed classes together, and I got to know him well. But, alas, he turned out to be gay,” she says with a sigh.

“He came out to me one day after I confronted him about my feelings for him.”

“Damn. That must have been rough.”

“It was definitely a shock. I was happy for him, though. We’re still good friends. He’s actually getting married to his boyfriend next June. I’m a groomsmaid.”

“And what about after college? You didn’t find anyone to go out with?”

She lets out a sigh before saying, “I’ve never been the most confident person. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that I really started accepting myself for who I am and putting myself out there in the dating pool. I …”

“What?”

“This is so embarrassing.”

“Tell me. Remember, safe space here.”

She waits a beat before blurting out, “I didn’t lose my virginity until I was thirty!”

I sit there, too stunned to speak. How has she become a goddess in the bedroom with so little experience? I’m shocked.

“I know, it’s shameful,” she says, bashful.

I finally find my words. “It’s not shameful. I think it’s great that you waited until you were ready.”

“I guess you could call me a ‘late-bloomer.’ I had the opportunity to lose it in high school, but I wasn’t ready.

I wanted to wait until marriage—I was super religious back then.

Thank god I did because I found out about a year ago that the guy I was with was busted for trying to solicit a fourteen-year-old girl … He’s thirty-eight.”

“Jesus. That’s my age. I couldn’t imagine doing something like that.“ I shudder.

“I know, right? But as I got older, I wanted to wait for someone I knew I wouldn’t regret. I ended up matching with this guy from out of state on a dating app and we hit it off. We talked every day for over a month before I decided to take a trip to see him.”

“And how did it go?”

“He didn’t know I was a virgin until after we had done the deed. It was nice. I don’t remember it hurting like I had always heard it might when doing it for the first time. We decided it was best if we just remained friends, though, with the distance and all. We still text all the time.”

“That’s great. I’m not really friends with anyone I’ve slept with over the years.”

“Except me, right?” she asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, except you.”