He puts his free hand in the air as he bends down slowly and places his gun on the floor by his feet. I’m putting my gun down. You don’t need to shoot anyone.
I should text my friends to let them know I’m outside.A curt nod. You do what you gotta do.
A few minutes slowly tick by before Mariah replies: Outside where?What does she mean, she left? Without telling me?Mariah: I left like, an hour ago?
Me: Why didn’t you tell me???Mariah: You were busy filling beer cups and stuff.
Me: No, I wasn’t. I’ve been waiting for you all night. I didn’t even want to be here.
Mariah: Whatever. The point is, I’ll be home in 20. Right now we’re at some guy Lance’s house and then I’m bringing him home.The whole thing is so unsettling for me. I’m not used to male attention, not used to someone like him wanting me as something other than a friend.
The whole thing has my stomach in knots.My hand goes there, resting on my belly. Presses down so I can even out my breathing.
Is this what it feels like to have butterflies?Should he be the one giving them to me? This isn’t what I planned for myself—he is not my type, not even close. When I picture myself with a guy, I imagine him clean-cut. Handsome. No facial hair, certainly not someone with hair prettier than mine.