10. Cash in my innocence to a well-endowed peer.
“Um,” I stared at the list Darcy had given me, my eyes roaming over it again and again.
“What?” I lowered the paper just enough to look over it and see her offering me her best impression of the innocent look. It looked more like she’d stubbed her toe and was trying not to scream outward.
“I don’t remember half of these.”
“Of course you do.” Shrugging, she lowered her latte and leaned in closer. “I just spiced them up a little.”
“A little?” More like she rewrote every item in Darcy form. “Get a tattoo, are you serious?” Smiling wide, she nodded her head. “My father will kill me.”
“Which is why I said in a secret hidden location.” Rolling her eyes, she reached over the paper and pointed to that exact wording. “Like in your nether regions.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please, you act like your vagina would be the only one a tattoo artist will ever see. Believe me when I say they’ve tattooed and pierced more tits and girly bits than they can remember.”
“Speaking of girly bits.” I placed my finger on #2 and then scrolled over #5, #9, and #10. “Can I ask why half this list consists of tasks related to my vagina?”
“Sweet, sweet Ruby, that would be because she really needs someone to look out for her.”
“And you call this looking out for her?” Why was I friends with this person?
“Waxing only hurts for a short time and the aftermath is well worth it. Believe me when I say the sensation is ten times better without the forest to sift through.” She gave me an over-exaggerated wink. I looked around to ensure our conversation was not on display for anyone else inside Starbucks. “Second, dancing without panties is exhilarating, and the thrill actually might break down some of those towering walls you have built around you. Third, I never said you had to get a tattoo on your hoohah, I was thinking more like on your hip, but hey, if you want to go there, I won’t judge. Tattoo a mouse near your kitty for all I care.”
Covering my face, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.
“The piercing, you could go for the navel, but again, if you want to be adventurous I won’t stop you. Let me know if that bitch hurts too bad though, because I could never get the guts up to allow someone to shove a needle through my cli—”
“Okay.” Holding up my hand, I prayed that she stopped there.
When her words faded, smothered by her laughter, I peeked through my fingers at her. She was loving this.
“Number ten, that one is a must, a need to get it and get it good. We fall back to the fact that you are wound so flipping tight you squeak when you walk. You need to loosen up.” I arched my brows upward in surprise and it took her a second to register the words she’d spoken. “Oops, sorry, bad choice of wording.”
This gained laughter from me as well, because come on, it was too fitting.
“You said you were tired of being invisible. You said you wanted to do all the things you’ve never done because you were to afraid. This is it. We follow this list, even with my well thought out additions.”
Well thought out, my ass.
“By the end you’ll be thanking me.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, she was a mess, a fun, easy going, living-her-life mess.
***
Stepping up to the front door of my house I paused, taking a few extra minutes to ensure I was presentable. One deep breath in followed by a slow exhale, I placed the key in the lock and twisted.
The soft click echoed, or so it felt. One should never feel this type of pressure when coming home. It’s supposed to be the place of escape, one of comfort and security. Only to me it was more like entering a courtroom where I would once again be placed on the stand to prove my innocence. The thing was I never knew exactly what I’d been charged with each time until the questions began. Home to me was stressful, it was nerve racking, and a place I hated. It was almost like I was trapped, caged like a wild animal that should be allowed to run free.
“Ruby.” I had not yet closed the door when my father was already calling out for me. “Running a little late, I see.” Stepping out of the den where his office was, I could already see the disapproving glare in his eyes. “I hope whatever it was you were doing after class was something productive and not simply a waste of valuable time.”
“I was at the library.” I no longer felt bad when I lied to him. It had become a means of survival. No matter what I did or said, however big or small, he’d always found something wrong in it. “I have a paper due in class next week.”
“Which class?” He wasn’t asking because he was interested. He was asking so that he could test me. But if the years alone with my father had taught me anything, it was to always be prepared.
“Professor Miles, International Relations,” I said with conviction. Silence fell over us as he watched, as if waiting for me to crack. I didn’t.
With a simple nod, I was dismissed and moved toward the staircase, fully intending to hide out in my bedroom. Only his booming voice stopped me. “I have dinner tonight with several faculty members, so I will be out late. You will have to fend for yourself.”
Looking back over my shoulders, I forced a smile. “Okay.”
I hurried to my room, closed the door behind me, and took in a
