Page 2 of Shamed
“Do either of you have a hair tie I can borrow?”
I swing my gaze to my other best friend, Marni, who’s braiding a small section of her platinum blonde hair in the mirror affixed to Jersey’s closet door. The two of them were best friends before I came along in eighth grade and made it a trio.
At one point a few years ago, Marni had tearfully confessed that her family was struggling financially and that they may have to move away. The next day, I went to my father and begged him to invest in her father’s company without her knowing. Things turned around for them, and they’ve been doing well ever since. She never did find out it was because of me.
“Here, you can have one of mine.” Rising from the bed, I approach her from behind and slide one of the hair-ties I was keeping on my wrist over my hand. My own wavy, honey-blonde hair hangs loosely down my back.
Dangling it over her shoulder, I watch in the mirror as she takes it and puckers her lips in an air kiss. “Thanks, boo.” As she tightens it around the end of her braid, her hazel eyes sweep down the length of my body, pausing at the hem of my skirt. “I’m guessing your dad didn’t see you leave the house?”
My shoulders drop with a heavy exhale. “No. Thank goodness, he was busy on the phone when I left.”
You can’t throw a stone in town without it hitting a building or business that my father owns, and that reach extends into Chicago as well.
With that type of wealth comes prominence, and with that prominence, expectations.
Expectations for me to dress and act appropriately.
My eyes trace the pleated pink fabric of my skirt. It’s not obscenely short, ending mid-thigh, but he probably would have a problem with it and tell me to change. God, I’m lucky I’m even allowed to go to these parties and have a midnight curfew.
I don’t know the full extent of what my father does, but his company is his life, and he wants it to be mine as well. It’s been a constant argument between us for months now, and it’s a miracle he let me choose a different major in college than the one he wanted.
Jersey’s airy cackle cuts through the music and my thoughts. “You’re the one who’s dressed like a ho.”
A salacious grin tickles the edges of Marni’s lips, and she doesn’t deny it as she glances down at the few inches of fabric barely covering her underwear. “I was given these long-ass legs for a reason.”
“Not for spreading,” Jersey singsongs, spinning on her seat in front of her vanity to face Marni.
Marni shrugs while my shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “Speaking of spreading.” Marni turns her attention back to me, a perfectly shaped brow already lifted in question. “Are you planning on doing that again any time soon?”
My laughter dissolves into an embarrassed groan, and I collapse back onto the bed. “I don’t think so.”
Three months ago, I gave my virginity to Tristan, one of the guys in our senior class. But silly me didn’t realize it was a one-and-done thing until he swiftly got dressed and left, didn’t text or call, then proceeded to act like nothing happened when I saw him again a few days later.
My girlfriends weren’t as naïve and told me the day after it happened that I should expect that from any of theboysfrom school.
Marni returns her gaze to the mirror. “You could just have some fun, you know. Suck them in with your C-cups and pretty gray eyes. You have a stripper body that everyone wants.”
“Wow, thanks.” Trust Marni to give a compliment like that.
With a roll of her eyes, she adjusts the straps of her top. “High school is practically over, and you won’t even see half these boys again.”
I hum as I lean over to snag Jersey’s phone off the side table and change the song. “I think I’m okay without.”
I was never as interested in having no-strings-attached sex as Marni and Jersey were, and that thought was further solidified after the Tristan incident.
But since I don’t have a problem with kissing or even going to third-base on occasion, I’ve been labeled a tease by some of the guys in school. Apparently doing other things instead of spreading my legs is a bad thing.
“Maybe once we’re in college,” I add as an afterthought, though I’m really not looking for anyone. I’m just excited to get out of my house and see what the future holds for me.
Jersey leans her elbows on the vanity behind her and runs a scrutinizing gaze over me but chooses not to say anything—her being a little less boy crazy than Marni. “All right, I’m ready to go,” she announces, turning to Marni still messing with her hair.
“I guess I’m ready, too.” Marni exhales loudly and assesses herself in the mirror. “Okay, let’s get this party started.”
The three of us traipse downstairs to say goodbye to Jersey’s parents, who shower her with love and affection. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be shown love like that from my parents.
Giving them a little wave, I ignore the small pang in my chest before following the others out the door to the party.
*~*~*~*
