Flawed Love
“Hey, you call Missy Spastic Plastic.”
“You’re right.” I giggle. “But Jack isn’t a sack.”
“He’s a fucking dick.”
“So are you, and I like you.”
He flexes his arm around my neck gently. “I’m a good dick. He’s the bad kind.”
“How so?”
“He’s a user.”
“Meaning?” I prompt.
“He just likes to charm and fuck.”
“And that’s bad because . . .?”
He lets me go and stares at me, horrified. “Because you don’t fuck, Emy.”
“Why not?” I snap, crossing my arms. “I’m a girl, I’m seventeen—I should be able to fuck if I want.”
His eyes widen. “No. Just no.”
That kind of hurts, and my back instantly goes up.
“What, because I’m not fake and plastic like Missy, means I can’t be interested in popping my damned cherry?”
“Yeah, fuckin’ exactly,” he snaps. “Because you’re not fake, you deserve better than men like Jack.”
“Oh, you mean like a nerd, who probably refers to his dick as penis, who says things like ‘I’m going to penetrate you now’?”
His lip twitches. “No, but . . .”
“Agh!” I cry, climbing out of the bed. “You’re pissing me off, Rainer. Can you go?”
“No,” he says, getting out of the bed too. “I’m not leaving because you’re having a hissy. I’m just telling the truth. Men like Jack don’t go with girls like you.”
“Then who does go with a girl like me?”
He shrugs. “I dunno . . . Kenny?”
“Are you fucking serious?” I screech. “So in other words, you don’t really think I’m pretty. You’re just trying to make me feel good.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“He stutters when he talks, if he’s nervous. He has oily hair. What the hell, Rainer?”
“Okay, maybe not Kenny, but . . .”
“Just stop,” I cry, throwing up my hands. “You’re digging a big fucking hole for yourself.”
He blinks at me. “Did you just swear at me?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Ouch, kid.”
“Look,” I say, turning and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, “I’m tired. Can you go?”
Rainer walks up behind me, and in the mirror I can see what it is he sees. Alone, I might be pretty, but with someone as striking as Rainer behind me, I’m simply average.
That hurts.
More than I could have ever imagined.
CHAPTER THREE
NOW – MALI
Hurt constricts my chest as I sit on my bed, staring at the wall. I don’t even know if Mimi is okay—I just ran out of the bar like a scolded puppy. I can’t believe Rainer didn’t remember me. How could he look at my face and not see the girl I was? We were best friends; we spent all our time together. God, we’ve been through so much. I’d never forget his face in a million years.
“Mali?”
The sound of Mimi’s voice travels through the house, and I pull my knees closer to my chest. I don’t know how to explain what went down tonight, or tell her why I left her alone. I don’t even know if I can form the words. My best friend growing up just looked straight through me.
“Hey.”
I look up and see her standing at the door, eyes narrowed.
“Ah, hey.”
“You left; I was worried. Are you okay?”
She rushes over and sits on the side of my bed, studying my face.
“Not really,” I whisper, looking at my hands.
“Did everything go badly with Rainer?”
“It didn’t even have that chance,” I murmur. “He didn’t recognize me.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Oh, Mali . . .”
“He just looked straight through me, as if he’d never seen me before.”
She wraps an arm around my shoulder, and shifts in beside me. “Maybe he was busy and barely took you in.”
“He looked right into my face, and studied me.”
“Maybe you’ve changed a lot.”
“I would never forget his face, Mimi. Never. How could he forget mine?”
She squeezes me closer. “You said there’s been a big change in you. Maybe you really are so different he didn’t recognize you.”
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“Show me a picture of you when you knew him, and we’ll decide. I’ll be able to tell you if it’s a massive difference, and then we can figure out where to go from here.”
“Okay.” I sigh, climbing out of the bed and jerking open a desk drawer. I ruffle through it until I find an old picture of Rainer and I.
I take it over and hand it to her. She snatches it from my hand and studies it, her eyes going wide. “That’s you?” she squeaks.
“Yes.”
“Holy shit, are you serious?”
“What?” I say, climbing back into the bed and looking at the picture.
Rainer looks so much younger in it, more than I realized until I saw him tonight. He’s a man now—he still has a boyish-look in this picture. He’s grinning, his arm slung around my shoulders. I’m wearing my usual jeans, baggy top and chucks, and my blond hair is in a pixie cut. I’m also wearing glasses.
“No, seriously . . .”
“What, Mimi?”
She turns to me. “Honey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that girl looks nothing like you.”
“It does so!” I protest.
“Ah, no, no it doesn’t.”
“Yes. Look at my eyes.”
“It’s hard to see your eyes; they’re covered by massive glasses. What were you thinking? Those things are awful.”
“They were stylish.”
“Maybe for a gorilla.”
I snort. “But still, look at my face. It’s me.”
“No, you’re chubbier there.”
“I was not chubby!”
She laughs. “Not massively so, but you’re really slender now. There you have more booty and curves.”
“Okay, but still.”
“Your hair is blond.”
“Yes, and . . .”
“It’s short and blond. It’s now long, brown and completely different.”
“I know,” I protest. “But Rainer could be wearing an orange wig and glasses and I’d still recognize him.”
“Truly, would you?” she says with raised brows.
“Yes, I would. I’d know those eyes anywhere.”
She reaches over, taking my hand. “I hate to say this, I really do, but do you think maybe you paid more attention to those things because you loved him?”
Her words hit me like a slap to the face. “You mean because he didn’t love me, that he didn’t pay that much attention?”
She smiles sadly.
She has a point.
“He still stared at me. Hell, he fucked me, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, and I get that, but take it from me, you look one hundred percent different now. I wouldn’t recognize you if the old you walked in.”