I probably should’ve understood something was off from the fact that when I came back, Corrine pretended as though it never happened. And I don’t mean pretended in that way most people do where they try to act like there’s nothing going on. Except they can’t help the occasional side-eye they give you, trying to judge how much you remember and trying to figure out what you’re going to do about it because they sure as hell don’t know what they’re doing and are trying to figure out if they should be nervous or not.
No. When I say pretended it never happened, I meant in the sense that she gave me one of her teasing hugs where her breasts were pressed against my chest and there wasn’t even a flicker in her eyes. No embarrassment from remembering how she’d snuck in to see me, not a single degree of change in her smile and not so much as a microsecond’s pause before she was back to cock teasing me the way she usually was.
As you can imagine, this was not conducive to my libido or more importantly, my hormone addled mindset.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was ashamed of it. Was it some kind of improvised Corrine thing that she came to regret after doing and so just pretended absolutely nothing had come of it? Had she wanted me to do more for her? Had I embarrassed myself by having such strong reactions to her ministrations? I had thought she wanted to do what she did willingly, that it meant she showed interest in at least some sexual, if not romantic, way. But apparently, I was wrong.
As a result: though I was of course ecstatic to be out and happy to see everyone again, I couldn’t help but feel down in the dumps that what Corrine had done was looking to be one of those things relegated to a drunken anecdote she told her children when she talked about daring and stupid things she’d done as a kid.
I think they all knew there was something off about my behavior. Stereotype though it may be, women do generally tend to more sensitive to that kind of change even if they can’t always tell why it may have come about.
The only one who actually managed to ask me however turned out to be the last one I expected.
It wasn’t Corrine or Amy, the person whom my behavior might’ve been the most different around or the single most blunt person in our group of friends respectively.
It was Talia who asked if she could talk to me after school one day when we passed each other in the hallway. Surprised by her request, I didn’t even think of refusing. For as outspoken and how far out there Talia tended to put herself, she’d never seemed to be one for private talks and quiet discussions. Not that she wasn’t capable mind you. It just wouldn’t have struck me as being her style.
Never the less, I came outside to see her: her spaghetti strap top and near painted on shorts a result of the warmer weather that day. But they also contrasted sharply with the serious expression on her face.
“What’s up, Talia?” I asked her, trying to gauge where she was coming from and how severe this really was.
“I think you’d know better than me, Ian,” she answered, sitting beneath one of the baby trees near the parking lot. Her left hand patted the green patch of grass beside her in invitation.
At this point I was still more confused than uneasy. I’d figured that I’d been able to go about things as normal; taking a cue from Corrine and acting as though nothing had happened between us.
As I sat cross-legged beside her, she fixed me with that serious look again.
“You want to tell me why you’ve been acting so off lately?” she offered gently.
I tried to deflect for a moment.
“Well, we do have a lab and a test coming up in Biology soon,” I said.
“Ian.” With that one word, she stopped my half-baked excuse before I could finish cooking it.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” she requested, her dark eyes meeting mine in mute appeal.
I was brought up short. There was a clear choice here. Do I continue taking Corrine’s lead and try to not let things get dramatic (as they always tend to do at that stage of life) or did I be honest and try to get someone else’s perspective on it?
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