Wrong (5 page)

"
T
ake
off your pants and lie on your back." Leah is stirring a pot of wax on a counter set up along the wall.

I falter for a moment. Just take off my pants? I pictured her leaving the room and me getting at least a paper gown to cover myself with. Everly was wrong. The gynecologist visit was less awkward than this.

Leah turns her head and sees me just standing there. "Your underwear too. We're doing a full Brazilian, right?"

Okay then. I nod and toe my shoes off without bending over. I unzip and slide my jeans off before folding them and placing them on an empty chair with my bag. So, my underwear. This is weird. I slip them off too and look at my folded jeans. I should tuck my underwear under my jeans, right? I know I'm standing here naked but I don't want her to see my underwear just lying on the chair.

I glance down. Socks. Dammit with the socks again. On or off? On. Definitely on. She's not waxing my feet. I hop onto the table and lie back. No poster on the ceiling here. I stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. It's so weird that I'm only naked from the waist down.

Leah turns away from the pot of wax and inspects me. Literally. "Okay, let's see what we have to work with here. Pull your knees up and drop them to the side. Like a frog."

"There's no poster on the ceiling!" I blurt out.

"What?" Leah looks confused.

"Um. You should have a poster. On the ceiling. For me to look at. Or maybe a TV?" I look at Leah. She's not looking at me anymore though. She's got a big popsicle stick of wax in her hand and she's about to slather it on my body.

This is it. I'm about to die. Of humiliation. My hand bumps the cell still stuffed in my hoodie pocket. I should send a goodbye message. I pull out my phone. I text Everly and tell her I hate her.

The first coat of wax hits my skin. That's not so bad. It's warm. Kinda pleasant even. Minus the fact that I'm lying half naked on a table in front of a woman I just met.

Leah drops the stick in the trash and presses a cloth on top of the wax. Pressing it down with her hand. Yeah. This is fantastic.

Not.

Leah presses one hand flat against my abdomen and rips the wax strip off with the other.

I wait for a blinding pain combined with a flash of white light inviting me to cross over to the other side. Ouch. That hurt. But I don't think it's going to kill me. It wasn't so bad. It burns a little.

It's more embarrassing than anything. I let out a huge breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Leah's back with another stick full of wax. Spreading and ripping. "Looks good!" she chirps from between my thighs. "Your boyfriend is going to love this!"

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm sure he will. So, do you wax yourself?"

"Oh, no," Leah replies. "We wax each other."

"What?"

"The other waxers. We just grab whoever's not busy and do each other."

"You let your co-workers wax your vagina? People you see every day? And meet after work for drinks?"

Leah laughs. "Yeah. Who cares?" She shrugs. "You have to be careful with co-workers though. Sometimes we mess with each other for a laugh."

"Practical jokes with wax?" I ask.

"Exactly. One time"—she has to stop because she's laughing—"one time Laura waxed Katie’s bush into the shape of a goldfish cracker." I try to discreetly check out my vagina in case Everly's arranged for some practical joke to my nether regions. "Katie was into some 80's phase where she was only doing her bikini line." Leah has regained her composure. "Totally unacceptable, obviously."

"Obviously." I don't agree, but I'm half naked on a table and Leah is controlling the destiny of my vaginal hair, so I nod.

"I mean, get some leg warmers if you're going retro. Am I right?" Thankfully Leah doesn't wait for me to respond to that before continuing. "So Katie doesn't even notice. Until that night when her husband goes down on her and starts laughing so hard they have to stop." Leah tries not to laugh, which causes a snort to escape.

"So what did she do?" I ask. "Fix it herself? Or live with it?"

"Oh, no." Leah is suddenly very serious. "That is not okay, Sophie. Never wax your own vagina." She shakes her head. "Never. Waxing yourself is the devil. The pain is totally different when you're inflicting it on yourself." She waves at my vagina. "This isn't so bad, right?"

"No." I have to agree. "It's not that bad. I thought it would hurt worse."

Leah nods and rips another strip of hair off my body, then scrutinizes her work. "There's a few strays. Hold on." She returns and leans over my crotch with a pair of tweezers and yanks.

Oh. My. God. Why does it hurt so much more one hair at a time? I can't believe this woman is hovering over my vagina with a pair of tweezers. I want to tell her not to bother, Mike can deal with a few stray hairs, but I feel like it would be rude to tell her how to do her job. On my vagina.

My phone beeps. It's a picture of a kitten. In a bikini.
Don't be a pussy, wax your kitty,
Everly's typed.

"Almost done!" Leah says. "Knees up to the ceiling now and hold 'em."

Did she just ask me to flash my asshole at her? "What?" I ask.

"We need to get the hair between the cheeks now." Leah picks my leg up for me and bends it so my knee is at a ninety-degree angle. "Here, put your hand under your knee. Now grab the other one." She turns to grab another wax-covered stick while I put myself into a mental coma to deal with this humiliation.

"Drop your knees open as far as you can." Leah is now spreading wax between my butt cheeks. I wasn't even aware I had hair there. I wonder how much hair I have there? Holy shit, did Luke see my asshole hair? I'm suddenly thankful to Everly. At least Mike won't have to see it.

"We also do vajazzling here! Anything you can think of, we can do." I can't believe Leah is selling me on sparkling my vagina with crystals as she wipes wax between my ass cheeks. "I do a really nice Hello Kitty."

"Um, okay?"

"Your socks." Leah gestures to my feet that are hanging in mid-air. I forgot I’m wearing Hello Kitty socks. I should reconsider my grandparents' offer to live with them in Florida after graduation. I could donate my entire sock collection to Goodwill and wear nothing but flipflops in Florida.

"All done!" Leah tosses the last strip into the trash and grabs a mirror and holds it between my legs. "See? It looks great." She's beaming at me. Does she want me to check out my vagina and compliment her? I take a quick glance in the mirror. Huh, it does look different without hair. "Looks good," I reply politely. I start to get off the table.

"Wait! You need aloe!" Leah pumps a gob of aloe into her hand and smooths it over my vagina. With her hand. My humiliation is complete.

I scoot off the table and dress as quickly as possible while Leah cleans the table and gives me aftercare instructions. She tells me she also does organic goat-milk facials and hands me a coupon for a free facial with my second Brazilian wax. I'm still not sold on this waxing thing, but I'm pretty sure I won't be signing up to get a facial and a Brazilian wax from the same person anytime soon.

Back in the lobby Everly tries to high-five me, but I just mouth, "I hate you," and flop onto the couch to wait while she goes in for her wax.

"
Y
ou're staying
all night with Mike, right?" Jean is lying on her bed flipping through a magazine watching me get ready.

"Yes." I turn my attention back to the mirror and finish applying eyeliner to my left eye before coating mascara over my lashes.

"You're sure?" The magazine ruffles as she flips it closed. "You're not coming back for a condom? Or your toothbrush?"

"Nope," I reply. "Both are already in my purse." I scrutinize myself in the mirror. My blue eyes look huge. I've curled my hair into tousled waves falling to the middle of my back. "The room is all yours. You're free to impale yourself on Jonathan's cock in complete privacy."

Jean stops twirling the ends of her blonde hair through her fingers. "Impale myself?" She laughs. "That sounds like a Everly-ism."

I spritz myself with perfume. "Hey! I came up with that one myself, thank you very much."

"What are you guys doing tonight? Besides breaking your hymen."

I hold up two pairs of earrings and Jean points to the dangly ones in my right hand. "We're going for Thai over on Chestnut Street," I reply as I slide the earrings through the tiny holes in my earlobes. "What are you and Jonathan doing?"

"We're just fucking."

"Nice." I sit on the edge of my bed to tug on my black heeled boots. Over black socks. Plain black socks. I had to dig around my drawer to find these, but I'm smug that I've planned accordingly at least once this week. "This is fine for Thai, right?" I ask, indicating my jeans and pink sweater.

Jean waves a dismissive hand at me. "It's perfect. Thai places in University City aren't that fancy." She taps out a text on her cell. "You nervous?"

I cross my legs and lean back on my bed, resting my weight on my hands. "No." I shrug. "I want to get it over with. I waited too long." I grimace. "That sounds awful, doesn't it? Poor Mike."

Jean snorts. "Poor little college boy. Hot virgins sacrificing themselves on his cock."

I laugh as my phone alerts me I have a new message. Glancing at it, I get to my feet. "Mike's downstairs waiting for me. I'll see you tomorrow." I grab a jacket before taking the elevator to the ground floor of my dorm, Jacobsen Hall.

I'm expecting to see Mike waiting for me with one of his big, happy smiles that make the dimples on his cheeks stand out. Instead I find him talking to Paige Gladson. I don't know her very well. She's a fellow business major and I know she lives somewhere in Jacobsen, but I'm not sure which floor. She's wearing loose Juicy Couture sweatpants with Juicy stamped across the ass and a gray tee shirt. No makeup and her blonde hair is bundled on top of her head in a messy knot.

She's pointing a finger in Mike's face as she talks to him. Mike's response is a shrug. He looks bored. My heeled boots click across the tile floor, announcing my arrival. Paige drops her hand and takes a step back.

"Hey, Paige." I smile at her and slip an arm around Mike's waist. He's in dark jeans, a button-front blue plaid shirt and Converse. It's a huge change from his normal classroom attire of jogging pants and Philadelphia Eagles tee shirts. He looks really good and I'm suddenly more enthusiastic about tonight than I was a few minutes ago.

Paige crosses her arms across her chest, but her posture isn't defensive. It's… leery? "Hey, Sophie." She glances at Mike and back to me. "I didn't know you two were together."

"Yeah," I reply, confused. Did Paige once date Mike? He's never lacked female companionship, but I don't recall him with Paige. She doesn't seem jealous, just weird.

"I'll see you next week in Professor Tetrev's class, Paige," Mike tells her. He grabs my hand and tugs me after him towards the door.

His car is parked out front in fifteen-minute parking. He unlocks the car with a remote but stops on the passenger side and pulls open the door for me, slamming it closed after I'm safely tucked inside.

A moment later he's sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine of the new Camaro. His dad owns a Chevy dealership in suburban Exton and Mike drives a constant stream of new cars.

"What was Paige so animated about? Something in Professor Tetrev's class?"

Mike doesn't take his eyes off the road. "Yeah. You look beautiful, babe." Mike winds our fingers together and brings our joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of mine.

"So do you." I squeeze his hand, Paige forgotten about.

W
e walk
hand in hand down Chestnut after Mike parks in a nearby garage. I'm laughing over something he just said. I really like Mike. I'm happy I'm with him tonight.

University City is bustling with people. It's a gorgeous Saturday night in Philadelphia. The sun has already set and it's cool outside. The darkness and temperature provide a cloak of romance to the evening.

Around us other couples exit and enter restaurants or wait along the curb trying to catch cabs. Car horns honk, the street lamps twinkle in the dark and I love being in the middle of it all.

There's a ten- to fifteen-minute wait for a table when we arrive at the Thai restaurant. They have a bar, so we find an empty hightop table to lean on and grab a drink while we wait.

After half a beer for Mike and half a Riesling for me, Mike pulls me closer. I think he's just going to nuzzle my hair but instead he whispers in my ear. "How'd the waxing appointment go?" Then he leans back with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

I feel my face heat up as I smile and duck my head away from his gaze. "It went well, thank you," I say. Then I laugh at my stupid formal response. When I glance back up he's smiling too.

It turns out Everly was right. It does feel different being bare down there. I'm sure I'll get used to the sensation, but I've been slightly turned on since I had it done two days ago. I'm so aware of the weight of my denim jeans over the slip of lace underwear I'm wearing, making me feel a little bold, a little risqué.

Mike tips my chin up with one hand and places a soft kiss on my lips. The other hand is on my hip and his thumb has slipped under my sweater and is resting directly on my heated skin. I'm almost ready to tell him we should ditch the dinner plans and head back to his dorm room when they call us with an available table.

Mike holds my hand and leads me back towards the hostess, then follows me into the restaurant. The hostess seats us at our table, dropping two menus down before departing.

"Thank you." I smile as Mike hands one of the menus to me. Mike flips his menu open and I'm about to do the same when my eyes move to a table slightly behind Mike, to the right.

Luke.

H
e's staring directly
at me. Our eyes lock as my mind races. My good mood vanishes as I contemplate an entire meal with my gynecologist as chaperone.

"Hi, I'm Brandee." The waitress has arrived. "Can I get you drinks while you look at the menus?"

Mike orders a Coke and I order a second glass of wine. I cross my legs under the table and glance back at Luke. He's still staring at me. He's not smiled in greeting once. Maybe I should smile? I try that. Luke's jaw ticks in response and his lips don't move.

"What are you getting?" Mike asks, redirecting my attention back to him.

I haven't even looked at the menu. I glance down, pretending I've been reviewing it. "Pad Thai." I give Mike a huge smile and close the menu, setting it down on the table. I shift in my seat so I can glance back to Luke's table. Luke's lips are moving now and I notice for the first time he's not alone. There's a beautiful red-haired woman sitting across from him. He's on a date.

She's in a cream sweater dress and tall brown fuck-me boots. I can see them from my vantage point. She looks very elegant though, classy. I'd guess her to be much closer to his age than I am. I'd also guess she doesn't own a single pair of socks that say classy bitch across the bottoms.

"Are you ready to order?" Brandee is back, placing our drinks on the table and pulling out a pen and pad. She smiles and looks between Mike and I. We glance at each other and nod. Brandee jots our order down and stuffs the pad into her apron pocket, promising to be back soon with an appetizer I didn't even catch Mike ordering. I'm a bad date.

I focus on Mike and get him talking. He's majoring in business, and he has a definite plan after graduation. He wants to open a deluxe car wash on the empty lot next to his dad's Chevy dealership and once that's up and running open a custom auto paint shop. He has a business plan ready, something he put together last year for a class, but he's really passionate about it. It might sound silly, but he has a vision for his success. Eventually he'll learn his dad's business and take it over when he retires.

Brandee places an order of chicken satay on our table with a warm smile. "Are you two students at Penn?"

"We are." Mike beams at her. "Are you an alumna?"

"Yes, I am." Brandee nods. "Met my husband there." She smiles at the two of us, like we remind her of her and her spouse. "We'd love for our daughter to attend Penn after high school, but she's determined to attend Penn State. Three hours away!" She shrugs and sighs, like she can't bear the thought of her baby flying so far away from the coop.

"Which building did you live in?" Mike asks her, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth.

"I lived in Frider Hall." She starts to laugh. "We had this security guard there named Mr Holguin, but he insisted we call him Fireball."

"Fireball!" Mike exclaims. "That guy is still there!"

I sneak another look over to Luke's table while Mike is laughing over the antics of the oldest, most beloved school employee on campus. Their food has arrived. Luke's date is mid-sip on a glass of wine and Luke is placing a forkful of noodles into his mouth. The fingers of his left hand are resting on the wooden table top, inches from a cell phone. His index finger is tapping the wood in a slow steady rhythm.

I look up to his face and find his eyes on mine once again. My heart slows then speeds up. Why does he keep staring at me? I steal a look at Mike—he's still distracted with the waitress. I'm surprised Luke's date hasn't noticed his lack of eye contact, since his eyes seem to be primarily on me.

No sooner do I have that thought than the redhead is half turning in her seat to look me over. She gives me the universal female once-over, as much as she can from her seat. She looks more curious than hostile as she takes me in.

She's stunning. Her makeup is flawless, pale skin, green eyes radiating intelligence and knowledge. Carnal knowledge. These two know each other on a bodily fluids level. I'd love to fool myself into thinking she's Luke's sister, but this woman is definitely not related to Luke. Not siblings. Not half-siblings. Not even step-siblings.

The woman turns back to Luke and says something. He looks at me a moment longer before replying to whatever she said.

"I'll have your entrees out in a few minutes," Brandee says and moves on to her next table. I grin at Mike and move a chicken satay to the plate in front of me.

"I can't believe old man Fireball has been pulling the same pranks for twenty years," Mike says.

"Twenty? I think he's been at Penn for at least sixty years." I take a bite.

"Yeah," Mike laughs. "I'd like to think he graduated in 1960 and just never left."

I laugh. "I hope that's true. Though you'd think the residents of Frider would warn the new kids each fall."

"Nah," Mike scoffs. "It's like a rite of passage. Besides, the old guy loves to mess with the new kids. He's earned the privilege." Mike grins as my cell phone beeps.

"Oh," I say. "I should check that in case it's my grandparents." I slide the phone from my purse. "The ladder accident this week freaked me out. Seeing my grandfather in a hospital bed was awful. I hate knowing they're getting older." I give Mike a little smile. "You're lucky your parents are a long way off from old age."

"Yeah, I am," he agrees.

I unlock my phone and freeze.

"Grandparents okay?" Mike asks, concerned.

"Yeah," I reply. "Fine." Which is not technically a lie. I assume they're fine because the text is not from them. It's from Luke.