Samantha Young - The Fragile Ordinary

On that note I flossed and brushed my teeth. Thoroughly. And then I rinsed it multiple times with mouthwash. Staring into the mirror, I got a flashback of the feeling of Ethan’s kiss and shuddered again. “Ugh!” I made a face at myself.

Tomorrow I was going to do a reread of my favorite romance just to get this awful real-life imagery out of my head.

* * *

I awoke with a start, my heart in my throat, the blood whooshing in my ears.

“It’s just me, babe,” Vicki’s voice whispered in the dark, but it sounded thick and cracked.

“Vicki?”

Down the hall I heard water running from a tap while Vicki’s silhouette solidified out of shadow as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

She pushed the covers back and climbed into the bed. The denim of her jeans rubbed against the light fabric of my pajama bottoms, the floral perfume she wore mixed with the scent of beer enveloped me, and the soft, tight curls of her hair tickled my chin as she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my collarbone.

I felt her body shake.

I felt something wet drip onto my skin.

Sleep deserted me at the realization that my best friend, who rarely cried, was sobbing quietly against me.

Concern kicked my heart into speed and something ugly twisted in my gut as I closed my arms around her and held her tight. “Vicki?” I was afraid. Afraid to ask what happened, all manner of dark suspicions lurking in my mind.

She held on tighter but didn’t say anything, didn’t relieve me of my fears.

The flush of the toilet brought my thoughts back to Steph as I heard the bathroom door open and her stumbling steps down the hall. My bedroom door swung open and shut, and Steph’s dark figure rounded the bed and got in at the other side of me.

Not even a minute later her drunken snores filled the room.

“Vicki...what happened?” I dared to ask.

I wasn’t sure she’d answer.

But then...

“Jordan,” she whispered tearfully. “He wanted to have sex. I said I didn’t want to, and then he said I was too young for him and...he went off with some girl from his class.”

Dipshit.

Arsehole.

Wanker!

I tightened my grip on my friend. “I’m sorry he did that.”

She cried a little harder, and I tried to soothe and hush her. After a while I felt her body relax. I was sad for her. I hated that a boy had treated her so poorly when he was lucky Vicki Brown had even noticed he existed.

Yet, there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised.

In fact, it just drove home to me why my book boyfriends were a million times better than the real thing. Tonight I’d gone to a party for someone else because I’d made a promise to try harder. However, years ago I’d made a promise to myself, and that promise was painted above my headboard.

To thine own self be true.

Be true to yourself.

Standing in the corner of a party, talking to a boy who bored me and pretending that he didn’t, allowing him close enough to violate my lips... I hadn’t wanted to do any of those things. I hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place! And look where it got me.

Worst night in a long time.

From now on, I did what I wanted to do.

I would remain true to myself.

Stay at home reading a lot of books and writing my poetry.

Even if everyone, including my best friends, thought it made me the biggest antisocial weirdo in Porty.

THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG

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