Bitter [Part 1]

This isn't fictional--that is the first thing you should understand.1

Sometimes the memories are a little cloudy and I'll tell you what I wanted to see, but it is the ultimate truth in my mind. Things may be a little confusing—the actions and reactions, the why’s and how’s—and for that I apologize. Just try to stick with me here.2

I was tired and fed up of routine. Everyday my life felt like the same old story--go to work in the morning, nap in the afternoon, and stay up all night drinking, smoking, and laughing with my friends. I would function, on some days, with two hours of sleep, my eyes heavy and bloodshot all day but my heart light. 3

And everyone always expected the same thing from me every evening.4

What I mean by that statement happens to stem from the fact I had been seeing this guy for about four months--the past six-weeks, though, with unspoken exclusion. I refrained from pursuing this relationship to the next level as all smart young women do; he wasn't ambitious enough to be with me.5

Yet, when I did find someone to my liking, their response was always, "Aren’t you with Ryan?"6

So I got a little...bitter.7

It was still Thursday night in my mind but in truth four on Friday morning when the ball was pushed. I had to be at work in four hours yet Ryan and I were lying in the backseat of my Scion xB in front of his mom's apartment, idly talking and kissing. He pulled back and looked at me and asked, "Do you want to be my girl?"8

As aforementioned, he was not ambitious enough. So my answer was, "I don't know."9

"Yes or no."10

I cared for the boy, but not anything near that. Just enough that I didn't want to see him hurt. "I don't know, Ryan. I work now and that's getting me busy enough. In a month I start school and I won't be home three days a week at all. I don't think I would have the time."11

To which he met my eyes and said, "This will work perfectly. I just had to make sure you didn't want something I didn't."12

Ouch. Even though I knew he was lying, the words still stung. He kissed me and that was that.13

And then Ryan turned into a dick.14

"When are you supposed to start your period?"15

I wouldn't have brought it up, but if he wanted to talk about it... "Sometime in the next week."16

"So you aren't late?"17

"No." That wasn't exactly the truth, either. I just wasn't even sure when it was supposed to start--it could have been the week before or the following.18

"I think about that sometimes. It freaks me out."19

Tell me about me. It wasn't his body, after all. And I had to partially rely on him for protection since I wouldn't be on the Pill until the monthly came and went.20

"There isn't a need to worry yet," I assured him.21

A few minutes of idle chat went by. And then he got quiet.22

I don't know if it was me or if it was the topic of conversation, but he put on his clothes, opened the door, and left without a good-night kiss, hug, or even a look back. I was still in the backseat of my car, my pants still undone and my mind reeling: What had I done?23

That dick.24

I had known the boy long enough to know he was being moody so I let it slide. Besides, he usually was attentive when we were alone--as long as it was after we had sex, anyway. Just this time was different.25

I expected the tiff between Ryan and me to blow over but I noticed it the next night, too. And the following. But let's go through those nights a little more thoroughly.26

For my entire life I lived in a small part of the biggest county in America, located in Southern California. It was the nice part of the suburbs, too--barely any gangs, not too many hard drugs, and the people were all raised basically the same sheltered way. The world was small to all of us; you couldn't go anywhere without seeing at least one person you knew, which means a lot since each of the four high schools in the area had 3000+ students.27

Most of the people I knew and saw everyday graduated with me, yet I knew through an ex-hook-up from the year before. This ex was a leader and created a pack of about forty young adults who had mutual interests--like drinking beer, smoking flavored tobacco or pot, or just plain like to hang out until sunrise.28

If it weren't for him, I would never have met Ryan.29

I say "about forty" kids because not everyone showed up every night. Usually, there were ten or fifteen regulars and the rest came by when it suited them. There were inner unspoken relationships and enough secrets to drive anyone crazy. That was probably why we were always inebriated when we were together.30

The best thing about the crew, though, was that none of us liked drama. You know, drama; that bullshit where small things are blown out of proportion illogically.31

Despite all the secrets and all the things people thought were secrets, everyone would joke as if they were best friends. There were the side groups within the group--the potheads, the hookah-whores, the whore-whores. The latter was an ever changing group of females, one I was not a part of. I was in the first group.32

Later on Friday night, the meeting spot was at the ex's house. 33

Let me explain why I use the term "ex" although we never were officially together. This "ex" was the biggest drama to ever happen to me--multiple times. We met two years before. Three months later, he was cheating on his girlfriend with me every night until she dumped him, where he continued with me. A month later, I saw him kiss a friend so I said goodbye and walked away--only to wind up in his arms again one drunken night after four months.34

Then I met Ryan. 35

It was in early April that our friend had a birthday. It was the first time I hung out with this group in a long time, too, so I had never seen the boy before.36

I was minding my own business—while intoxicated—when I saw a cute guy walk in. I stared at him. He stared at me. I knew then, though, that I would get him eventually. I was right, of course.37

A little while later I was walking around the house when I saw him again and we started talking. We kissed that night, but it didn’t lead to anything worth mention. I just remembered him because of that. 38

I avoided the ex completely until two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, a month after I met Ryan.39

That night I was drunk, as the ex always somehow caught me. We talked about us for at least an hour before we kissed. That continued for three weeks, where I ended up running into Ryan again and keeping him around.40

It's silly fickle drama but it explains why the shit hit the fan.41

One night I had explained the ex to Ryan and he seemed surprised in a good way--as if he was relieved that it wasn't some huge commitment I had to his friend.42

"Yeah, Andrew's an ass," was all he said on the subject.43

I had no idea.44

So I showed up at Andrew's house that Friday night and he happened to be sitting by Ryan, next to the hookah. I had always been uncomfortable approaching Andrew in front of Ryan, so I just smiled at the two of them and walked inside.45

Ryan never said hi to me, hugged me, or said a word to me all night.46

After three hours of being ignored, after smoking a sack of herb, and after drinking a six pack of Coors, I decided to talk to Andrew.47

Well, sort of. We were talking while playing pool and he happened to say, "You and Ryan are always together."48

I looked over to make sure our topic of conversation wasn't within hearing or even watching before I answered. "But we aren't even together."49

He made that little harsh laugh that spoke of doubt. "Yeah, right."50

And that little comment Andrew said crawled underneath my skin. If you couldn't tell by my description of mine and Andrew's relationship, I have a mad addiction for this boy--he's ambitious, hot, and entertaining to be around. Every girl wanted to hook up with him and he was a man-whore enough to do it.51

And, of course, Ryan walked in at this moment. So our conversation stopped but I was still irked.52

Ryan didn’t speak a word to me--he didn't even acknowledge the fact I was in the room.53

Later I finally got Andrew alone so we could talk. We were upstairs on a fold-up couch, a good two feet between us, and anyone downstairs could see if they looked.54

"So what do you think about me and Ryan?" I asked him.55

His expression hinted he didn't know that was going to be discussed and his expression closed--I knew this boy too well to let it pass me by. "What should I think?"56

"I don't know; that's why I'm asking. It just bugged me what you said about us always being together." Which was true, since the past two weeks no one has even hinted I may kiss another set of lips besides Ryan's--as if it were cemented that we were together, when we weren't, and that for sure was exasperating.57

He leaned back against the chair and the armrest, resembling a cowering child vaguely in my head. "I didn't mean it like that."58

We were silent for a moment before I even brought it up. You know, that question you aren't really supposed to ask because you don't know if you want to know the answer.59

"I still don't get why you led me on. Why?"60

Oh, boy. Did I keep surprising him, or what?61

"Well, I did like you last year. But we weren't around each other often enough the last time to know whether or not I liked you."62

Oh, dear. Now my turn to be surprised.63

Ryan walked up the stairs as if it were some freakin' movie. Andrew and I shut up and started talking about non-consequential things until I got up and left, taking notice of the way Ryan wouldn't exactly look at me.64

Well, he should have understood--it was Andrew, after all.65

I got drunk that night and passed out without anything happening. The following day I went home at ten and began drinking and smoking, since my parents were out of town for two weeks. I drank a bottle of Jager and smoked half a sack to myself before I went to Andrew's that night.66

But while I was drinking and smoking, I had two of my girl friends over drinking with me. And they decided to hit on Andrew for me. They took my cell phone and sent text messages all day, suggesting we hook up and planting the little seed of Bitch in my head.67

Because I don't bounce between guys. I never had and didn't plan to.68

I showed up at Andrew's to discover Ryan had been there all day. Ryan didn't say hi; Andrew did.69

During another game of pool I leaned over and whispered in Andrew's ear, "Does Ryan know anything?"70

"No."71

Good.72

And since Ryan didn't treat me with any courtesy the past two nights...I pushed Andrew.73

When we kissed in the garage, it was hotter than I remembered, better than it had been. I couldn't picture myself spending the night with Ryan, but I definitely could see Andrew and me "sleeping" together.74

I went outside afterwards and smoked hookah, tasting the flavored tobacco and relaxing. There I was, messed up in the mind, lusting for a guy who had used me more than a few times in the past two years. At that moment I didn't care.75

All I noticed were the looks people were giving me.76

Ryan wouldn't meet my eyes still. Some of my guy friends stared at me as if they had a secret. And that little voice inside of me was repeating, Oh, shit.77

I didn't want to believe what those looks suggested. So I ignored it.78

I couldn't ignore it, though, when one of my girl friends came over and told me, "Andrew has been showing everyone those text messages, in front of Ryan."79

I started to cry.80

I mean, crazy-oh-my-god-kill-me cry.81

The weird thing about me crying is I'm tough. Before that night, I hadn't cried for nine months--when a close friend had died.82

I cried for a few different reasons: 1) I was embarrassed, 2) Ryan wouldn't talk to me, 3) My period was (hopefully) going to start, 4) Every person out of the fifteen there knew, and no one had said a damn word to me.83

Not even Ryan.84

A few girls found me later, as well as a few of my pothead friends. They held me. They took care of me. They tried to get Ryan when I wanted to talk to him, but all they told me was that,85

"He said he didn't want to talk to a skank... I'm sorry, honey."86

The whole time I just wanted to puke. So I slept it off, woke up the next day, and forgot all about it.87

I was out back, unsure whether or not to go home, and someone mentioned the night before. So I cried some more.88

When I went to leave, I went upstairs with my puffy, red-rimmed eyes because I knew Ryan was up there.89

"I'm heading out... Is there anything you want to say to me?"90

Hey, might as well give him a shot. I couldn't say it to myself without sounding insane, anyway.91

"No." A pause. "How did you sleep?"92

I choked on the mundane question. "Alright, I guess."93

"Do I even get a hug?"94

Well, the tears were back by now. I gave him that hug and he held on a second longer than usual before letting me go and refusing to look at me anymore.95

I backed off and didn't try to contact him for the next two days. On Sunday a few of our mutual friend’s came to my house and talked to me. Most of them didn’t even want to approach the subject of the drama from the night before and the two that did told me nothing I didn’t already know.96

I didn’t hear from Ryan.97