This feels bad. Like I better fix this. And now.
I race after her and grab her arm.
"Don't. You're right. I've never really had to share you with anyone. Not even Jeremy. Which doesn't say much for him but-"
"Do you have a point?" she asks coldly.
"I get that this is a new chapter in your life. That there are new boundaries. And I'm going to respect them. I mean it. You're showing some crazy backbone and deserve props for that. So I'm going to be the model best friend."
Her angry expression softens. "Thank you."
The next several days, I'm the picture of supportive. Not that there's much to be supportive about. Mostly it's us walking home together and chatting about school. It's not like we're still in a fight but it's not like we're not either.
If she's going out and pulling guys, she's not mentioning it and I'm not asking. That said, I'm more than a bit surprised when on my way back from my pickup game, I run into her peering into the window of a hip, upscale s.e.x store.
"You dirty, dirty girl," I murmur in her ear.
She jumps, startled. "Ever been inside?"
"Nope."
"We should totally enter. See what it's like," she says.
Ally has this thing about checking out new and uncharted places. The weirdest so far was when she made us go to a funeral home open house and forced me to take the grand tour, pretending to be siblings looking for our grandparents' final resting box. Although I do use the free mug they gave out.
"Try to act mature. They may not like high schoolers in there," she orders.
"Yeah. Automatically a.s.sume I'll be the problem."
She "bow chicka wow wows" at me.
I ignore her and hold the door open.
A friendly young salesclerk smiles at us. "Let me know if you have any questions about our products," she says.
Aside from the more obvious items, it's hard to tell what anything is for. There are a lot of oddly shaped things. Like modern sculpture odd.
Ally picks up a device that looks like an electric razor body with an oval on one end. It's attached to a hand pump. "Is this for s.e.x or torture?"
"Yeah, it's pretty-" I begin.
"f.u.c.kenstein's lab," we both finish.
We try to look cool despite the fact that we find this hilarious.
"Igor," Ally says in a horrible Eastern European accent, waving the thing at me, "you take and get brains."
I nod and bob as I accept it. "Yessss, master. Braiiinnnns." I squeeze the pump.
We're shaking with silent laughter when we hear the salesclerk say, "It's a vibrating c.l.i.toral pump."
"Pump? Are you supposed to milk it?" I ask.
Ally doubles over in a "coughing" fit.
"It enhances the size of your c.l.i.toris." The salesclerk seems a little less friendly as she takes the device from me and places it on the shelf before walking away.
Ally is starting to make donkey braying noises as she gasps for air so I hustle her to another area of the store.
It takes a minute but she gets herself calmed down.
We walk past a wall filled with large, colorful vibrators.
I shrug. "Eh."
Ally casually reaches for a florescent pink one. She turns it on. It begins to spin.
I pick up a large black one.
"Sure, Shaft," she teases.
Ally gets into martial arts stance and with one hand outstretched, beckons me forward.
"Be serious," I say.
She clucks at me.
No way. I turn on my vibrator and a.s.sume my own stance. "Bring it."
"I'll bring it and then I'll show it to you, then I'll take it away and then I'll bring it again. And I'll rub it under your nose and then I'll take it and put it in my pocket."
"You done?"
She grins and the vibrator battle is on.
The vibrators spin and clash.
Ally does a fancy spin and comes back to hit my Iron Manny. It's the name on the tag. Not some weird nickname I gave it.
The battle intensifies with both of us mock deadly and now making light saber swooshing noises.
"*Luke, I am your father,'" she says.
"You realize he never actually said that, right?"
"Yeah, but everyone thinks he did so it counts," she tells me.
More light sabering.
I raise my vibrator ready to pretend cut her hand off and end this duel. Ally counters with a sharp smack that causes my formerly rigid vibrator to dangle limply in my hand.
"c.o.c.kblocked!" she crows, triumphant.
Pleased, Ally turns off her vibrator, winks at me, and places it back on the wall, before heading for the books.
This s.h.a.ggy college geek stares after her, practically drooling. "Epic adoration," he sighs.
"What?"
He gives me a sharp look. Like I'm stupid. "Hot and digs Star Wars? What did you do to get so lucky?"
"She's just a friend," I explain.
I glance over at her, standing before an open book on a rack and staring at it with horrified fascination. She sees me looking, points to the book, then puts both her hands to her face and mimes the Home Alone scream.
She's lit up with laughter and silliness and in that moment she's completely fabulous.
Geekboy watches me for a minute. "Denial fail."
I telepathically shoot him the finger and go join Ally as she exits the store.
It's a no brainer that you don't invite a guy you've slept with into a s.e.x store without ulterior motives. We both know where this is headed but I'm cool with it since I'm the one calling the shots. I've enjoyed our friend time and am now prepared to enjoy having my world rocked.
"Your place or mine?" I ask, ultra chill.
Ally freezes. "Oh. No. I have to go...c.r.a.p. I should have thought it would seem-"
"Nope. My bad. I've got stuff to do tonight anyway."
I stride off feeling like a loser and a douchebag, which is pretty impressive.
I can feel Ally staring after me so I glance back to toss a casual wave over my shoulder.
But she's gone.
Chapter twenty.
I have a confession to make.
"I'm done being the *screw around and screw off' girl," I tell Rachel.
She freezes and looks up warily from her laptop, where she's been researching facts about the Spanish Civil War while sprawled on her bed.
If I hadn't said I'd come over for a homework jam, I would totally have gone back to Sam's because I haven't laughed that hard with someone in a while and that in itself was kind of a turn-on.
"Because you're pregnant and scared to keep having s.e.x?" she asks.
"How do you come up with this stuff?"
"Finally came to your senses then? I thought it was going to take more than two guys, but I'm glad it was sooner rather than later."
I start to correct her before remembering that first rule of Sam club is, there is no Sam.
"No. It's just, you know how Adam was over when Sam showed up being an idiot?"
She nods.
"He wasn't there for a booty call." I hang my head in shame. "He was there for a date."
Silence. Which grows more drawn out and super awkward so I risk glancing up only to find Rach staring at me like I'm an idiot.
"Say something," I tell her.
"Uh, you're a loser and deserve to die?"
"Be serious."
"Serious. What's the biggie?" She is obviously confused.
"I wanted to go out with him. Not just have s.e.x. s.e.x is great but it's like dessert. And I'm a girl with a healthy appet.i.te. I want dinner too. Thing is, does that conflict with my other stated desire of dominance?"
"Are you in love?"
"No."
"Planning on marrying him?"
"We're just two people having fun whose activity base has been widened."
"You're all good then."
I study her expression carefully. "Are you saying that to be supportive or because you didn't think I could do it either?"
"You did do it. Yay you. You proved whatever you needed to and didn't have to sleep with all the guys in a hundred mile radius to do it."
She sits up and stretches out her shoulders. "What I never got was why you wanted to. You want more than a random hookup. That's who you are. It hardly makes you a loser. You and Jer had run your course. That's all. Doesn't mean another guy won't hugely appreciate you."
"It wasn't about any other guy. It was about me becoming empowered," I retort.
She snorts in disdain as she re-pins her large white flower barrette back in place. "Cut the c.r.a.p, cuz. You're already empowered. That whole s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around business was you wanting to make sure you could get out first. It was about power, plain and simple. Fine. Now you are ready to return to your normal programming. Even better. Carry on."
She returns her attention to her laptop.