She glances up. Her eyes are watery. She sniffles. And I cringe. The monotone voice of the guy on the video plays through my mind:
Side effects of cocaine are stuffy nose, excitability, irritability…
“There’s nothing to talk about. I like it. I like the way it makes me feel.” She stands, opens her hand. “Want a hit?”
I shake my head and move over to my bed. “No thanks.”
She shrugs. “You won’t say anything?”
Warning bells ring in my head. Should I say something? What if the campus police find out she has it in our dorm room? Will I get in trouble too? How much is she using? Could she die?
Even as the questions pummel my mind, I know I won’t say anything. “No, of course not. I just want you to be okay. You can tell me anything.”
Gina sits next to me. “It’s just to help me feel more confident, less like an ugly nobody.” She sniffles. “And college is hard. It takes more than coffee to keep me up and alert.”
I get what she’s saying. I know what it’s like to need something to cover up pain. Do something to make the fears, the hurt stop. Music and a yearly tattoo have been enough for me. Now that I’ve tried alcohol, its numbing goodness, I don’t want to give that up either. So I nod encouragingly. “It’ll stay between you and me.” I reach out and grab her hand. “But please be careful. And you most definitely are not ugly.”
She smiles. “I will. Thanks.” Her words aren’t convincing. I think of the past two weekends and the way she’s come back to the room crying after having done things she didn’t want to. I realize the word careful probably isn’t in her vocabulary.
But I pretend like I’m fine with what she’s doing and say, “Good.”
Gina stuffs the baggie in her front jeans pocket and picks up the clothes she dropped. “Put these on. Kinky Kyle is going to be here soon. Do you have a black bra?”
I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. For some reason it upsets me that she keeps calling Kyle kinky. I’m not exactly sure what the word means related to sex, but the way she says it makes me think it’s negative.
“So, no.” She laughs, moving back to her closet. She pulls a spaghetti strap tank with a shelf bra out and tosses it at me. “Wear this.”
I slide out of my sweatpants and shirt. Turn away from Gina and take off my bra. Then I reach back. “Tank, please.” Gina plops it in my hand. I slide it over my head. “Skirt.” She places it in my hand. I shimmy it on. It’s black, super tight. Hugs my body in all the right places. “Top.” It’s a see through coral blouse. Very feminine and pretty. I glance at myself in the oval mirror Gina bought the other day. “This is beautiful.” I turn back and forth, admiring my reflection.
“Of course it is.” Gina digs through her dozens of shoeboxes and brings back a pair of black heels. They are high and look seriously hazardous. “Put these on. They say sex, but with subtlety." I slide them on. “Beautiful. You’ve got great legs.”
“Thanks, Gina.” I sit on my bed and start applying lotion.
“Yeah, nothing like dry knees to ruin a good outfit.” Gina sits next to me.
“I’m handling it.”
She lays back. “What about the V situation? How do you intend to handle that?”
I finish with the lotion and rub my hands together. Then lay back next to her. “I’m going to take it slow.” My face heats at the memory of Kyle teaching me how to kiss. I want to do a lot more of that. Kissing. Kissing. Kissing.
“What are you thinking?” Gina turns on her side and leans on an arm.
I cover my eyes. “Kissing Kyle,” I admit.
“What was it like?”
I’m surprised she doesn’t think my first kiss is trivial. Silly. She’s kissed guys, and done a lot more. I move my hands and face her. “It was a little embarrassing,” I tell her truthfully.
“Why?” She’s scrutinizing my face.
I close my eyes. “Because I didn’t know what I was doing. But he was sweet. He showed me.”
“Showed you?” She leans in closer. “What do you mean?”
“Purse your lips and tighten them, like you have to kiss a dog.”
“Ugh, I’ve done that plenty of times.” She gives a harsh laugh, and then does it.