Its Fine Ch 01

This work is pure fiction. Slower start, but stick with it for the "better" parts to come.

Everyone always talks about how great high school is. How it's the best years of your life. Time to be an irresponsible teenager. It's the years of prom, homecomings, football games, and cheerleaders. Time to take the SATs and do hours of homework in between sports and a job. It's that in between time, when you're not a kid anymore, but you aren't an adult either. You still have curfews and parents and homeroom at 7:30.

God, I hated high school. I turned 18 in March of my senior year. I hadn't ever had a date, let alone a boyfriend. I had a couple friends, but it was really more of a bunch of people who didn't have anywhere else to sit in the cafeteria so they ended up together by default. I wasn't into sports and wasn't a cheerleader. I got good grades without really trying and spent most of my class periods reading. The SATs were fine. I never took a class for them or any "practice tests." My scores were good, not that I remember what the numbers were anymore.

Prom. I did go to prom. With one of the most quiet, geeky boys in the school. It was almost a cliche. The quiet girl and the quiet boy. We did dance a few times, and by that I mean we spun in a slow circle and rocked from side to side with plenty of space in between our bodies. He was a total gentleman, though. Neither of us got drunk and he never put any moves on me. So it was... Fine.

Graduation was the best day of it all. That meant I was finally done. I gave a speech at the ceremony and I could almost see the administration give a sigh of relief when I finished without putting in lines about how much it all sucked. I got my diploma and went home to a backyard party put on my parents.

College was all right. I had more freedom, but I didn't really do anything with it either. I ended up dating a guy from my Spanish class for a year or so. We had sex, and that was also... Fine. It was pleasurable enough, and I did manage a few orgasms along the way. I'd discovered masturbation in middle school and I'd picked up a dildo from a gag gift at a Secret Santa exchange in my dorm in my second year. So, between that and the boyfriend, I was at least having some sort of sex life.

I graduated from college with honors, getting my B.S. in marketing of all things. It turned out I was good at giving presentations and getting people to buy into whatever I was selling, whether it was a product or a service or even a business trip. As far as the boyfriend went, we broke up in junior year, mostly because he found some perky little blond in a sorority that apparently couldn't get enough of his body.

More power to her, I thought. I wasn't even all that sad, but I did miss having someone to text and talk to late at night if I couldn't sleep.

After college, I got a job at a chain of department stores where I basically made the window displays and dressed a lot of mannequins. That wasn't very lucrative or exciting. But I needed money while I looked for a better job, and I knew that everything looked good on a resume. I applied for a lot of internships and finally landed one in the city.

Apartments were expensive, though, even just my little fourth floor studio walk up. The internship was a valuable experience, but the money wasn't really enough, so I had to keep the store job on the weekends. Most of my so-called "adult" life was spent at work or sitting alone in my apartment using my laptop to play games and scroll through social media. I'd never been much of one for socializing, so the solitude didn't bother me. It was... Fine.

One night, I came home from the store and changed into my pajama pants and a loose t-shirt then flopped on the couch. I turned on my laptop and pulled up Facebook. Yes, it was old and a terrible site, but most of my family was still on it, and I was at least able to look at their pictures and posts. I checked my notifications and saw I'd been tagged by someone whose name was vaguely familiar. I clicked it and saw it was for a high school reunion. It hadn't been ten years yet, but our town was so small that someone decided it was a good idea to group five years' worth of graduates together.

I would have clicked off immediately, but curiosity took over. I scrolled through the list of people who had responded just to see if I recognized any of them. Most were either unfamiliar or didn't bear thinking about. One, though, seemed like it jumped right off the screen at me.

It was him. Mike Edwards. The boy I'd gone to prom with. I clicked on the profile picture and was a little impressed. He looked older, of course, but he had a professional air about him, and his once curly hair was cut close to the scalp, giving him a more mature look than I would have thought possible. He still had the big blue eyes, though, the ones that seemed to sparkle when he laughed.

I looked at the dates of the reunion. They did line up with the holidays and the trip home I'd booked months ago. Even if I didn't recognize anyone else, it would be fun to talk to Mike about how stupid high school had been. And when it came time to talk about my life now, after all, it was fine.

*

I woke up sweaty and shaky. I'd been dreaming, but it wasn't a nightmare. I could remember parts of it, most of them having to do with prom. I had felt Mike's hands on my body as I danced with him, but they hadn't stayed on my waist. In the dream, he had touched my breasts and between my legs.

I couldn't help it. I pulled the dildo from my bedside table drawer and slid it under the blankets. I briefly thought about the lube that lived next to it but knew I wouldn't need it. I could feel how wet I was under my pajama pants.

I slid it inside and gasped because it felt so good. I slowly moved it in and out with one hand and rubbed my nipples with the other. My hips started to move up and down in time with my rhythm and I ran my hand over my stomach and down to my core. I rubbed and stroked while I used the toy. Soon I was shaking all over again.

"Oh, Jesus," I said, knowing I was close. I stopped rubbing and started squeezing, just a little, and then it hit me.

Wave after wave went through me and I gasped and shook. Sounds even escaped my mouth, something that had never happened before. I could practically see Mike's face hanging over me, those blue eyes staring into my soul.

Once it subsided, I slid the toy out and dropped it back into the drawer. I covered my eyes with my arm, unable to believe how good that had felt. Much better than usual. Even with the dildo, I wasn't used to climaxing so easily, so hard.

I took deep breaths and counted to one hundred in Spanish. Usually that was enough to relax me and put me back to sleep. This time, though, it wasn't.

I picked up my phone and opened Facebook. I clicked around until I got back to Mike's picture. I stared at it and my heart seemed to quicken. Even after the orgasm, there was a warmth growing in my body all over again.

I put the phone back on the night table and rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut.

Eventually, of course, I slept.

*

"Natalie! I'm so glad to see you!"

My parents opened the door together and practically dragged me inside. My mother hugged me tightly and my father patted my shoulder. I hadn't been home in almost a year, and I felt tears well up in my own eyes.

My mom pulled back, keeping her hands on my biceps. "You look thin, honey, are you eating enough?"

I laughed. It was always the same.

My sister popped up from the kitchen at the other end of the entryway. "Natalie! You made it!"

"Yes, I did. The flight was fine and the rental car was easy to get."

"You could have let us pick you up," my dad said, his eyebrows a little crinkled. "You didn't need to get a car."

"I didn't want you to see the Christmas gifts," I said. "They're in the trunk."

Realistically, I just wanted my own vehicle. Time with the family was fine, but I knew there was only so much of sleeping in my old bedroom and listening to stories about my childhood I could take.

My brother walked into the living room and walked over to me, smiling. "Hey, Sis, how's the big city?"

"It's fine," I said. "Loud."

He laughed. "I bet."

"Honey, go help your sister bring her bags in," my mom said. My brother rolled his eyes but gestured toward the door.

"After you, Natalie."

I went back to the car and we both brought a suitcase up to my old room. He dropped it onto the bed and leaned against the wall. "You look good, Nat. City life must agree with you."

I shrugged and put the second suitcase on the floor. "It's fine."

*

On Christmas Eve, I volunteered to run to the grocery store to get the few items that Mom needed to make Christmas dinner. It sounded altruistic, but in truth I just wanted to get out of there for a while. It was hard to keep up with all of the questions and constant updates about people in the town, and their extended families. I'd jumped at the chance to have some quiet, and the chance to blast my own music in the car to drown out the barrage of country from my parents' speakers.

I pushed my cart through the crowded aisles under the constant stream of Christmas carols. I hadn't been to this store in a while, and I kept having to double back when I realized I had something else on the list. I had tried to wedge myself off to the side of the baking aisle so I could read the list for what felt like the millionth time.

I pushed my cart forward a bit, still looking at the paper. I ran into something with a thud. I looked up from the list, mortified. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

The man turned around and I was pinned under his bright blue eyes. "No damage," he said, "although you might want to pay better attention as to where you're going."

"Yes... I mean, yes, I will."

He looked at me and smiled. His face was familiar and yet full of a confidence I wouldn't have ever imagined. "Natalie Young. How are you?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Mike," I said, all too aware of how hot my cheeks felt. "And you?"

His eyes narrowed just a bit but the smile stayed in place. "I go by Michael now. And I'm doing well, thank you."

"Of course. Michael."

"Are you going to the reunion this weekend?"

"Yes, actually, I am. And you?"

"I will go. It might be interesting to see how everyone is doing." Again, the smile, making my heart go faster.

"Well, then, I guess I'll see you there," I said.

"Yes. Maybe we can have a dance. For old time's sake."

"Yes, of course. That would be nice."

"I will see you there, Ms. Young," he said, extending his hand.

I shook it and could have sworn I felt sparks on my palm. He let go and turned on his heel back towards the bakery. I watched him until he went around the corner out of sight.

I managed to find the pure vanilla extract, not the artificial, as per my mom's list, then went to the lines at the registers.

I stood behind a woman with a whining toddler. She looked so harried I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. I smiled at the little girl but she just shook her head at me and resumed whining. I put my few items on the belt and waited.

The woman paid for her items and left and the cashier barely forced a smile. She pulled my items over the scanner and shot them down a second, shorter belt to the teenaged boy. He barely even looked up, just shoved the boxes into the brown paper bags.

"It doesn't look like he paid much attention when he was hired, now, does it?"

I turned around and there was Michael standing behind me, a loaf of fresh Italian bread and a jar of upscale pasta sauce on the belt behind my order. "Oh, hello again." At least my voice was steady.

"If there's one thing I hate, Miss Young, it's when training is forgotten, or worse, ignored."

I didn't really have a response to that, so I was thankful when the cashier gave me the total. I smiled briefly at Michael and ran my card through the machine. Once the transaction was finished, the boy put the bag in the cart and the cashier gave me the receipt.

"Have a good night," I said to the three of them.

The cashier and bagger barely reacted. "I will see you soon," Michael said. "Have a good holiday."

"Thanks, you too."

I pushed the cart and walked quickly out of the store. I could have ran, but I kept some control. I got to the car and put the two bags in the trunk before returning the cart to the corral. I was a big believer in that. I'd worked at that very store in high school myself and I remembered how mad I would get when I had to walk further down the parking lot just to find a missing cart.

I flopped into the driver's seat and turned the car on. The heat kicked on immediately and blew into my face. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. It was winter and barely broke double digit temperatures, but I was sweating. What was wrong with me? Maybe I was just homesick.

For my studio? Probably not. My bedroom at my childhood home was more than half its size. And I didn't have to worry about noisy neighbors or people stomping on the stairs at all hours.

"It's fine," I muttered to myself. I sighed and sat up. I had no desire to sit there all day.

I put the car into gear and left, keeping my eyes out for pedestrians and cars but also somehow pointedly ignoring anyone who looked at all like Michael's profile.