Page 9

Chapter 8

Kitty

I woke up with a throbbing headache, a mouth the texture of the Sahara, a criminally upset stomach, and unfamiliar surroundings. I turned over to see the one and only Guy Stelle asleep beside me.

I looked under the sheets. I was wearing not my sweatpants and not my shirt. Guy was also dressed, so at least there was that. I was against the wall, so I’d have to crawl over him to get out and pee and/or puke, whichever came first. I’d have preferred to run from the scene entirely and do those things in the peace of my own dorm suite.

As I was laying there trying to figure out my escape route, my body forced the issue. I flopped over Guy like a fish on the dock and vomited into the trash can he had placed conveniently next to the bed. Guy sputtered awake, cussing in French. He held me in place by my hips as I hung almost upside down, puking. When I was done, he chuckled.

“ Bonjour, ma puce .”

“Where’s your bathroom?” I squeaked.

“End of the hall. You need help?”

“No, no, I’ll get there.” I hurried out of the room with the dirty garbage can. I got myself and the trash can cleaned up and took a long, hard look in the mirror. I rolled the dice and used a random bottle of Listerine. Had Guy taken off my makeup? I looked surprisingly clean for someone who vomited a lot and didn’t remember much. I could just run, but I probably owed him at least a thank you for putting up with me.

Fuzzy memories came flooding back. Oh, God. I’d asked him to make love to me because he’s the love of my life. Not to fuck me. Not to have sex with me. I legitimately said “make love.”

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no no.

I walked back into his room. He had a glass of water, some pills, and a bottle of Pepto Bismol waiting for me on his desk.

I closed his door behind me and stood against it. “So, about last night,” I started.

“It’s fine. Come here, Kitty Bird,” Guy said, scooting against the wall in his bed and leaving room for me. I lay down next to him, facing in like we always did. He reached over me to his desk, pouring me a dose of Pepto Bismol. I took it, then he handed me two Ibuprofen.

“Drink up.” He held out the glass of water.

“Water is so harsh,” I groaned after I swallowed the sip that I could stomach.

He laughed. “Been there before.” I dropped back in the bed with him, facing in.

“I’m sorry I asked you to make love to me, Guy-Guy.” I squeezed my eyes shut, not really wanting to see his reaction. I heard him crack a grin, and I knew without looking what that grin looked like.

“Why would you be sorry for that?”

“Guy, we haven’t even really talked in years.”

“I know. That’s my fault. But it’s time for us to start again,” he said, patting my side. “I do still love you, you know.”

“Obviously. You took care of my sorry ass last night.”

He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for. I’m glad I saw you.”

I was nervous to ask my next question. “Guy, who changed me into these clothes? I don’t have any underwear on.”

“Nothing happened, ma puce . You puked on your clothes after we got out of the car. I had my roommate’s girlfriend change you.” He must have seen the fear in my eyes. “I would never let anything like that happen to you, Kitty. That’s why I took you out of that party. I didn’t like how those guys were looking at you. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. If you want to bang guys, go for it, but I want you to make that decision when you can speak for yourself.”

Tears filled my eyes. How was he simultaneously like a big brother, a boyfriend, and a best friend all in one? “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling me into his chest. His chest hair scratched under his shirt as I nestled in. “You’re safe. Nothing happened.”

“But it could have!”

“I made plenty of dumb mistakes when I was a freshman,” he told me. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Please don’t tell Frank. He’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, ma puce .”

Guy held me there while hang-xiety wracked my brain and body.

“Guy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His warm laugh rumbled through his chest where my head was still buried. “I know. You told me about a thousand times last night.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned.

“Don’t feel bad. It was sweet. I feel bad for how long I waited to see you.”

“It’s fine. I knew you were here, but I wanted to get my own footing. I didn’t come here for you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, patting my hair. But instead of it being the condescending sweetheart that Southern moms use, it sounded like he really meant the endearment. Huh. “I didn’t think you did. You hungry, or do you want to watch something?”

“Let’s watch. I’m not ready for food.”

Guy pulled his laptop into the bed and opened one of our old favorite comedy specials. He spooned me, resting his head on his hand behind me.

What an unusual relationship we had. We kissed, I got humiliated. He apologized. We stayed friends. We had some more kisses. We still said “I love you” in those few interactions we had between Eva dying and me seeing him at the party. I don’t think either of us was sure if it was romantic or friend love. It was some bizarre hybrid of the two.

I was obviously attracted to him, but it was the dangerous kind of attraction, like a moth to a flame. I wasn’t sure if he still cared about me the same way. His reputation on campus preceded him. He slept around constantly. I was a fool to hope for anything lasting with him. My little moth self was fixing to get her wings burned right up. So to keep myself safe, I assumed we were just friends, while still dancing that line of something more.

Snuggly friends. That’s a thing that happens, right?

“No funny business, playboy,” I warned. “I’m too fragile.”

“No slut shaming, remember,” he teased. “I’ll be a gentleman.”

We both dozed off again. Later, he borrowed his roommate’s car to take me to McDonald’s and back to my dorm.

“Don’t disappear on me for three years,” I said when I got out.

“Oh, Kitty Bird, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”