The Virgin Ceremonies Ch 09

Chapter 09

Brent: A Good Connection

I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling of my apartment. Max lay on the floor beside me, his breathing heavy. The red lights of the digital clock lit up the room, telling me it was 10:00 p.m. I had to get up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow. But how could I sleep now? I'd finally met Ginny in the park, and she'd told me she didn't want to meet me anyway.

What did any of it matter though? I just wanted to get over her. I was tired of feeling like this, ready to move on. I honestly hoped she wouldn't come into the cafe again. And if she did, I was going to make the worst mocha cappuccino ever so she'd never come back.

My phone vibrated. I was drowsy as I picked it up off the coffee table. Max lifted his head, his nametag jingling on his collar. I didn't even look at the number. The screen was too bright. I just swiped to answer and put it to my ear.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm buying," I said.

"Hello?"

If I'd been sleepy before, I was wide awake now. I sat bolt upright, the hair on my neck sticking up. My heart exploded, and my breath evacuated my body while my lungs simultaneously demanded more oxygen.

"Ginny?" I managed.

"Beau?"

"You got my postcard."

"Yes, today, a little while ago."

I couldn't believe it. She called me. This was real. Wait, it was, right? Had I fallen asleep?

"You, um..." I laughed softly. "You don't check your mail often."

"My cousin hid it from me."

"Oh."

"How do I know it's really you?"

"Because I whispered in your ear during your ceremony, because I took you to the top of the Empire State Building, because I made love to you, because I didn't want to stop holding you, because I waited at that park every day for you, and you never came."

"I'm sorry."

"But you called."

"You sound different than I imagined," she said.

"I do?"

"Yes, no, I don't know," she said. "I don't know what I was imagining. I just remember your voice as a whisper."

"I remember everything about you."

"This is a very bad idea, you know?"

"I know," I said.

"Have you told anyone about my ceremony?"

"No. Well, I mentioned to a friend I had a one-night stand, but no specifics."

"Why? Why did you do that?"

"Because he noticed I was depressed."

"You're depressed?"

"Of course. I had the most amazing night of my life, and this connection we had, it was just... gone, just like that. It was too hard, too sudden."

"I know. It's been hard for me too. I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the park."

"Why didn't you?"

"The reason is silly, but the truth is, it's good I didn't."

"How so?"

"Because we both know what would happen if I did."

"We do?"

"You wouldn't have invited me to meet you if you didn't want to do it again."

"I, I..." I paused. "That's not why I invited you."

"Maybe not, but it would have happened again, eventually. It's not as if we want to be pen pals."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It was true, of course. "I want more than that though, a lot more."

"I know. But we can't meet, ever. You understand?"

"Why?"

She was quiet for a moment. "My family would implode. I'd probably be disowned. You'd destroy my life. Not intentionally, but just being around you would be unacceptable. I couldn't keep it a secret, and I couldn't live like that."

"Just, just tell me, was it the most amazing night of your life too?"

"God, yes, Beau, of course it was. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't. Wasn't it for you?"

"Of course. It was amazing."

"I know, so let's not ruin it."

"Ruin it by meeting?"

"Yes. We can't do that."

"Ginny, I have real feelings for you."

"Oh, God. Please don't. We can't do this. We can't just... talk about that."

"I, I have to," I said softly. "I have to get it out. It's eating me up."

"I shouldn't have called. I'm hanging up."

"Wait, wait, don't go."

"I'm sorry. It was nice, amazing. Thank you for taking care of me that night."

"Let me talk to you for a minute."

"I really appreciate it, and I'll always remember you fondly, but please don't contact me again, okay?"

"Ginny, let me say one more thing."

"Goodbye, Beau."

"Ginny. Ginny?"

I looked at my phone. She'd disconnected. I immediately looked at the call list. She'd blocked her number. I set my phone down and covered my face. I was about to tell her we'd already met. But what good would that have done? I'd have just made it worse. I felt sick. I let my hand fall off the sofa and felt Max's soft fur. I scratched the back of his neck, and he gave a groan.

"Life sucks," I said softly. "I just got dumped by a non-existent girlfriend. That's next level pathetic."

Max offered a low whine of support, but soon his head was down, and he was asleep. I was envious. I kept going over my brief conversation with Ginny. Without even trying, she'd made me feel utterly inferior to her. Like, how dare I have the nerve to contact her, to care about her, to be depressed over her?

I looked at the clock. It was 12:00 a.m. now. Work would be hell in the morning.

My phone vibrated. I squinted at the bright screen. Private number. I answered it and put it to my ear. I didn't say hello, just listened. I heard her breathing on the other side. I breathed as well, just to let her know I was there.

"I can't sleep," she said.

"Me either."

"I hate this. I hate that I called you again."

"And yet..." I smiled. "You called again."

"Because I keep going over everything you said, and I'm upset."

I almost laughed because I was so happy she called. "It sounds like you forgot to say something to me last time."

"So, it was good sex. So what?"

I raised my eyebrows. "So what?"

"Yes. Okay, you're good at sex. Good for you. So what?"

"Am I really that good? I had no idea."

"Oh, shut up. You knew. Like, do you think just because you're good at it, somehow, you're the perfect guy or something? I don't know anything about you, you know? You're probably a total asshole."

"I could be," I said. "Do you want to find out?"

"How? By getting to know you?"

"Yes."

"No, I don't want to do that. I prefer to think of you as an asshole. So, you fuck well, but you treat your girlfriends like shit."

"Since when do you swear so much?"

"Since I'm pissed off with you," she said.

"What did I do?"

"You're arrogant."

"Huh?" I said.

"You didn't even argue with me when I said you fuck well."

"Look, I didn't contradict you because I didn't think it mattered."

"You're right, it doesn't matter. There's more to a connection with someone than good sex."

I was confused. "Is that all we did that night? We had good sex? Is that all it was to you? I remember a lot more."

"What do you remember?" she asked.

"I remember holding you when you were scared, dancing with you, kissing you, whispering to you that it would be all right, that I'd take care of you, a fantasy first date. I remember making love to you slowly because I wanted you to be comfortable, because I knew you didn't want to do it. I remember with everything I did that night, I put you first. I wasn't trying to fuck well. I was trying to fuck respectfully."

"Oh, really? You know that actually helps me. I thought you were a good lover. But I bet if you fucked me again, you'd just pump-pump-pump and be done, just like any other guy. So, you weren't selfish for one night of your life. Good for you."

"Why are you so determined to dislike me?"

She was quiet before she answered. "Because it's easier."

"Easier to get over me if you hate me, huh?"

"Yes. And you're doing a really shitty job of making me hate you, so if you could try a little harder, that'd be great, thanks."

"Are you in bed?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Me too."

"Am I keeping you awake? I can hang up," she said.

"Why? You'll just call back."

"Fuck you. I won't."

She hung up. I put my phone on my chest. I regretted so much that I'd said that, but she was so aggressive. I didn't know how to handle her like this. I'd really messed up. I sighed heavily, hoping she'd call back. By 1:00 a.m., she did.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Me too."

"I'm dealing with a lot right now, and I thought this thing with you was in the past, but it's not."

"Do you want it to be?" I asked.

"Do you?" she countered.

"No. Do you?" I asked again.

"I did..." she said.

"And now?

She didn't speak for a moment. "How did you know I'd call you back?" she asked. "How did you know I'd call you at all?"

"Because we both left an entire night unsaid. I knew it wasn't just me. I knew you felt a connection."

"I never should have kissed you."

"Do you regret it?" I said.

She didn't answer. Instead, she said, "How did you find me anyway? I keep thinking, it's impossible. I'm not in the phone book. My address isn't online. So how? Are you stalking me or my aunt or my family or something?"

"Quinn."

"She told you?"

"No, I saw her on the street one day, followed her."

"Oh, my God."

"I couldn't help it. She was just there, and I had to know if she'd lead me back to you."

"That's why you put her name on the postcard, because you didn't know if I lived here too?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I feel, like, so vulnerable and freaked out right now. You're scaring me."

"Hey, hey," I said, repositioning on the couch. "I would never hurt you, Ginny. I followed her because of how I feel about you."

"Don't say stuff like that, please. And it's not right to follow someone."

"Look, I don't know where you live. It's a big building. I asked the mailman to put it in whichever box was yours, and I left. I haven't been back since."

"You promise? You're not following me?"

"I promise I'm not following you."

"Do you promise not to stalk me again?"

I swallowed. "I don't need to. You have my number. All I ever wanted to do was talk to you again."

"So, talk. What do you want to say?"

I was quiet for a moment. "I'm in love with you."

"Oh, God, don't say that."

"It's true," I said. "I've done nothing but think of you these last six weeks. Day and night, I can't focus on anything else."

She exhaled heavily on the other side of the phone. "You can't say that. You can't. We don't know each other."

"When I was following Quinn, I took a cab, told the driver to follow her."

"Oh, my God, are you serious?"

"Just listen. I'd never done anything like that, and the cabbie told me I was nuts, to get out, and I told him I cared so much about you, I had to follow your friend, so I could see you again, just one more time, even from a distance."

"He should have called the cops."

"He asked me if I loved you, and I said no, but he said something kind of profound. He told me love is like the big bang, you know? It happens in an instant. People who grow to love slowly over time, it's not the same, it's not fireworks. Yeah, maybe you can learn to love someone like that, but I realized he was right. That spark, that bang, those fireworks between us, that was love."

"Who said I felt fireworks, huh?" she said. "Who said that? I didn't say it. I said you were good in bed, that's it."

"Then maybe there weren't any fireworks for you. So, tell me that's true. Tell me right now there was no spark, no connection, no big bang, and I'll apologize for wasting your time."

She was silent.

"Ginny?"

Nothing.

I looked at my phone. The call had disconnected.

"Damn it!" I heaved a breath in frustration. I was getting pretty annoyed with that. I fell back on the couch, covering my face.

I waited, and I waited, but she wasn't calling back. I kept checking my phone, making sure I hadn't missed a call. I had to keep it quiet so I wouldn't wake Grandma.

"Fuck," I said to myself. "I scared her off. I shouldn't have told her I loved her. Stupid, stupid, stu--"

My phone buzzed at 3:00 a.m. I eagerly answered.

"Ginny?"

"Don't ever tell me you love me again."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we are never going to meet, you get it? Never. So, you can't love me."

"And if we did meet?" I asked. "What then?"

She was quiet for a moment, but I heard her breathing this time. "We can't."

"Tell me why. What are you so afraid of?"

"I already told you, my family would disown me."

"So?" I said.

"So?" she said with a scoff. "So?"

"So, don't tell them. Keep it a secret. Just one meeting."

"They'd find out eventually."

"How?" I asked.

"Okay, think about it," she said. "If we met, what would happen?"

"We could talk."

"We're talking now."

"We could go on a date."

"Oh, yes, and parade in public together. Superb idea."

"We could meet somewhere private then."

"Ah-hah, and fuck, right?"

"Maybe, eventually."

"So, you just want sex."

"No."

"But you admit it. It leads to sex eventually."

"I mean, yes, fine."

"And then we'd be in a relationship."

"Yes."

"And you expect me to keep that a secret from my family, for what, the rest of my life? Or do you just want to get back in my pants a few times to get me out of your system?"

"Fine. Yes, they'd find out, because I do want to be with you."

"Okay, so I'm back to being disowned."

I rubbed my face heavily. "You can't explain it, make them understand? I know your aunt and your mom are a little uptight--"

"Even if by some miracle they allowed it, my father wouldn't. You're poor."

I gulped. "You don't know that."

"You had sex for money."

"Fine, I'm poor. Is that so important?"

"To them, yes."

"Is it important to you?"

"No," she answered.

"So, why can't we meet, at least try, and if we like each other, explain it to them?"

"Because I know them. It wouldn't work. What would I even say to my dad? Yeah, he fucked me for money after I turned 18, and we really hit it off?"

"We could make up something."

"Like what? You're a prostitute, okay?"

"Hey, I'm not," I said angrily. "It was one time."

"Right, that will make all the difference. And how do I know it was one time? How many women have you been with?"

"Your aunt tested me for STDs."

"That wasn't my question. How many women?"

"Two."

"So, I'm lucky number three? Yeah, right. I don't believe you."

"You're the second."

"You're lying."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you're too good at sex. That's why I don't believe you. Admit it, you lied to my aunt when you said you were with only one girl."

"Fine, I lied."

She scoffed. "You admit it?"

"I told your aunt I had sex with one girl many times. Actually, I've had sex twice. Once with my ex, and once with you. That's it. Two girls, two times."

"You're lying."

"Look, I'm really flattered you think I'm good at sex, but I thought you were amazing too, and I'm not out here accusing you of running around the block."

"Come on, I wasn't," she said.

"You were. It was mind blowing."

"I didn't even know what I was doing."

"It doesn't matter. You were eager, and happy, and so warm and affectionate."

She didn't respond for a moment, but then she said softly. "Maybe I was faking it."

"Ginny, please, I just want to give us a chance."

"It's impossible."

"It's impossible because you don't want to try. What if, what if we meet--"

"Stop it."

"--and we see how it goes. If there's fireworks, great, we can talk to your family--"

"You have no idea how stupid you sound right now."

"--and if they agree, we're good, and if they don't, we'll break up."

"Oh, come on."

"And no sex," I added. "Just dating, just getting to know each other."

"Now, you're definitely lying."

"I'm not. We know we have inside chemistry; let's see if we have outside chemistry. We'll go on a date, a walk in the park, a nice dinner, a little dancing. If we aren't into each other, I'll say goodbye, and then that's it. But at least we tried."

"You're so ridiculous. It would be the worst, most painful breakup ever."

"Why? You don't even know if we'll have fireworks."

"Oh, shut up. We both know if we meet, we're just going to start fucking again."

My heart thumped. "We don't have to."

"It's what we're both thinking, isn't it?" she said. "It's the reason I called. It's the reason you found me. We both just want to fuck again."

"I want more than that."

"Well, I don't," she said.

"All right, fine. You wanna fuck? Let's fuck."

"No. We can't meet, ever."

"Why? Maybe you're right. Maybe we're just in each other's systems. You want to get over me? I want to get over you. Maybe if we fuck one more time, we'll be over it, both of us."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a slut."

"I'm the slut, remember? If this is about sex for you, fine, let's make it about sex."

"Just stop it."

"I'm serious. Let's meet up, one more time, get it out of our systems."

"I called you to say goodbye, Beau."

"And you've said it, and called me back three times now. So, what do you want from me? You don't want a relationship? Fine. Do you want sex?"

She was silent. I glanced at the phone. She was still connected.

"One more night, Ginny," I said. "Is that what you want?"

Still nothing.

"Do you want me to make love to you again?" I said softer.

"I... I can't meet you."

"Why? No one will ever know. We'll get a hotel room. It'll be a one-night stand. We'll even say a proper goodbye, and you never have to call me again."

"You're talking like a pig. I didn't call you for sex."

"I know you didn't. I'm offering."

"Yeah, well, I can't afford you."

"I'm free for you."

"Beau, stop it, please. Can we just be nice and respectful to each other for a minute, and say something kind and then say goodbye?"

"Name the time and place. And if you really don't want to meet me, if you're really over this, then say something kind to me and then say goodbye. But don't hang up on me and call me back again. I've been pining after you for six weeks, and my heart is fucking tired. So, pick."

Her breathing was shallow on the other end. I didn't speak. I would wait here in silence for all eternity if necessary.

"Tomorrow night," she said. "7:00 p.m."

I held my breath. Was she serious?

"You have to pay for the room," she said. "I don't have cash, and I can't have a charge like that on my card."

"I'll pay for it," I said. "Where?"

"There's, um, fuck, what am I doing?"

"Where, Ginny?"

"There's a hotel where a cousin of mine stayed, shouldn't be too expensive, the Marriott on the upper east side, like 90th Ave or something."

I was grinning from ear to ear. "I'll leave a key in your name at the desk."

"No, not mine. Put it under a different name, um, Bethany."

"Bethany?"

"I don't know, just not my name."

"Okay, Bethany."

"One more thing," she said.

"What?"

"Wear your mask."

"My mask? Why? I want to tell you who I am. Ginny, you already know me. Ginny? Ginny? Can I tell you my real name? It's Brent." I waited. "Hello?" I looked at my phone. She'd hung up. "Fuck."