Ready Or Not

The pressure was really starting to get to me, starting to mess with my head. I racked my brain for a way out of here without having to confront him. Bingo. I felt around for my phone first in my hoodie and then in my shorts. My eyes widened as I realised I’d left it in my bag which was in his room. So were my shoes when I thought about it. That’d be right. Stupid me, not thinking ahead of time but that was all in hindsight.

“Babe, come on,” he whined, “please just come out of there so we can talk about this, okay?”

But it wasn’t okay and I didn’t want to talk about it. I knew what he’d want to say to me. He’d tell me I was being irrational, that I had nothing to worry about. That’s one of the things I didn’t really like about him. He was just so predictable. Whatever happened to spontaneity, old-fashioned romance? Was chivalry really dead or was it just my bad taste in men? Wait, not even men; boys.

I was still trapped in a bathroom with my possessive boyfriend just on the other side of the door. I considered my options. There was always the window but that seemed a little farfetched. Besides, if I did that, he’d find out sooner or later and I had a feeling that that would be worse in the long run – for my reputation at least.

“I’m gonna get the key and open this door if you don’t get out here,” he threatened, his tone of voice changing to sexual frustration.

Well that’s it, out the window I go, I thought to myself. I grabbed onto the hook and pulled up, creating a big enough gap for me to be able to fit through.

“At least say something so I know you’re alright,” he said softly with concern.
I glanced back at the door, immediately feeling bad.

“I’m so sorry, Eugene,” I apologised with doubts running ‘round my head, “I’m not ready. I just hope this doesn’t change things because…well…I really like you,”

I half-expected him to break up with me right then and there so what happened next caught me by surprise.

“Well come out here and we can-”

But I had already dropped down onto the grass, cutting off the end of his sentence. Was he about to suggest we talk about it instead of a simple ‘it’s over’? Or was that his attempt at luring me out of his bathroom just so he could say it to my face to humiliate me?

I’d get my bag somehow. Maybe he’d drop it ‘round later along with an apology. I started down the street, taking in my surroundings and checking to see if I was being followed. You never knew with this neighbourhood.

It was going to be a long walk home without any money for a bus or a phone to call someone to pick me up. My Mum didn’t even know where I was. I’d told her I went to Elaine’s place for the night. More lies. I just couldn’t help it though. There were just some people you hid the truth from – at least with certain things.

The cold, harsh wind whipped my cheeks, sending my hair in all directions. The street was almost deserted. Just as I came to the end of it, I saw a stream of light leaking onto the footpath in front of me and then there was a screech of tyres. I thought nothing of it and was about to cross the road when a black SUV pulled up front of me. That definitely wasn’t my Mum’s car.

I felt like running but it was like my feet were glued to the ground. I froze there for a moment while the car door opened and a familiar looking guy around my age stepped out from the driver’s seat. I couldn’t quite see exactly what he looked like as it was pretty dark but I felt as though I’d seen him somewhere before.

“You’re Marissa, right?” He asked, “Eugene’s girlfriend,”

At first I was taken aback by the fact he knew my name but then I realised he was probably one of my boyfriend’s friends. That was the only explanation. I’d seen his face before but couldn’t put a name to it. I think it started with a ‘D’. Dan? Uh…maybe Dixon? No, that didn’t sound right. Damn, I was really bad at this.

“I’m Dylan; I’ve seen you at school. We have English together,” he explained, “I’m the one Mr Grainger always picks on,”

“Ohhh I do know you,”

That’s right, I remembered now. We’d never really spoken before but Eugene had introduced me to him at one point.

“You look…lost,” he pointed out to me when I didn’t answer, “Did you want a ride home?”

I didn’t usually hop into cars with people I barely knew but I was desperate and in pain so I took a risk and accepted his conveniently kind offer.

“That’d be great,” I finally answered, “I am pretty lost to be honest,”

I just hoped he didn’t have some kind of ulterior motive like most other guys did. With that in mind, I sat down in the passenger seat in the front of the car and buckled up. He asked me where I lived and I told him.

“Let’s just hope you’re not a stalker,” I laughed nervously.
I was really bad at hiding how I felt sometimes. This was one of those times. He just looked at me with a grin.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” he winked at me almost flirtatiously, but I knew he was joking by the way he said it.

He kept asking me questions. I wasn’t sure whether it was to fill the empty silence or he genuinely wanted to know these things about me. Whichever one it was, it was nice to be taken interest in.

It almost never happened with Eugene. He always had to make it about himself. How basketball training went; how smashed he got at the party he went to; how he bullied a Grade Eighter. I just wanted to tell him things that happened in my life, even my smallest achievements – because that’s what they mainly were. It felt as though I didn’t have the right to. Whenever I said something, he’d try to top it. It was always a competition with him. And he always won.

Notes