The Virgin Wars

Chapter 4

"Peyton, can we talk?"

My arms were draped over Graham's neck. His breath was mixed with mint flavoured gum and the awful stench of stale beer. Our faces were centimetres apart and I didn't want to break the connection. The voice repeated itself:

"Can we talk? Please, Peyton."

I turned, my hair whipping Graham in the face. "Sure thing." I scooted over to make room for Josh and tapped the couch in a childish way. "Have a seat."

His blue eyes narrowed. "In private."

I rolled my eyes and excused myself, tripping over an empty bottle of liquor. Josh walked out of the living room and I trailed behind, at his heels. He shook his head as he ambled along, as if a heavy weight was dragging it side to side. He took a sharp left and entered one of the upstairs bedrooms.

He shut the door behind me.

"What are you doing?" his voice was sharp and condescending. His eyes trailed up and down my body and he clucked his tongue. "What kind of façade are you trying to put forward?"

"Big words for a big boy," I licked my lips.

"Look, I didn't think you'd take the breakup so badly." My hands swelled into fists and I leaned on the door, feeling the solid wood on my shoulder blades. My nails clicked against the fixture and I closed my eyes, allowing drowsiness to take me under. I hummed under my breath, trying to take my mind off of Josh. "Are you even listening to me?"

My eyes shot open. "Yes, Josh. I'm listening to you. I'm watching also. I see her drawled all over you in there!" I pictured Nadia and my jaw clenched. "How do you think that makes me feel? We broke up hours ago and you're already throwing yourself at another girl!" I couldn't stop the tears from dripping down my cheeks. "How do you think that makes me feel?"

Hurt screwed its way into Josh's expression. "Peyton, it's not like that. I'm hurt and sad also, okay?" He took a step forward, reaching for my hand. I allowed him to take it. "She means nothing to me. You're the one I care about. I've always cared about you."

"Then why aren't we together anymore?"

"Because we don't click like we used to."

"Click? We aren't computer mice."

He took another step forward and wrapped his arms around me. He was only a couple inches taller than I was. My face fit perfectly on the crook of his shoulder. I cried for what seemed like hours, letting the silence drift between us.

We parted.

"I'm sorry," I waved a hand over my face, "I must have ripped a contact or something."

"You don't wear contacts."

"I got some alcohol in my eye."

He smiled. "It's alright to cry, you know?"

I looked towards my feet, awkwardly shifting my weight from foot to foot. The bedroom we were standing in must have belonged to Graham. There were hockey posters plastered over the walls, along with a calendar of swimsuit models. Empty cartons of Chinese food littered the ground and the laundry basket in the corner of the room was overflowing with dirty laundry. A sketch of a nude model was taped to the bedside table. I cringed.

"So, you and Graham?" Josh asked.

"You and Nadia?" I retorted.

"I told you that she doesn't mean anything to me."

"Have you kissed her?"

He answered, "Of course not. It's only been a few hours, Peyton. I'm trying to get used to being single."