Chapter Twenty-Three

Delaney's Journal

What's up, bitch?

Look, I know I’ve completely dropped you these past few weeks, and I apologize. I would catch you up on everything I’ve been dealing with, but I feel like you might resent me if I did.

Some truths got dropped on me tonight that I’m not prepared to face, so I’ve barricaded myself into a guest room with you, my first love.

Okay, you’re right, neither of us are at that stage at the moment, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with me completely abandoning you, but I’m going to make it up to you.

I want to set the scene though before you jump in and ask any questions.

It’s sunset, and I’m young enough to believe I’m going to get everything my na?ve conduit heart has been dreaming up. My powers are still fluctuating a bit so I can occasionally go into public, and I’m a bright and shiny 17 years of age.

I still have a few friends from when I was able to function in a school setting that still invite me out occasionally, and tonight there’s a party full of other teenagers that are celebrating the fact that school is over for the year.

The kid hosting it has this killer backyard because I think his parents own a landscaping business, so as the sun sets and all the white lights come on out there, the teens begin to flood in through the doors, eager to forget about anything important for a night.

I knew better than to drink around people I didn’t particularly trust, so I’m just sipping on a soda, but it still feels good to be out of the house and around other kids my age.

The friend that invited me is currently making out with someone they knew from homeroom, so I’m on my own since Adam was out of town that weekend. I debated calling for a ride home because I’ve been out of school long enough that the only ones brave enough to talk to me are just a bunch of chads that think I’m an easy lay.

I know that’s confusing because I’m a conduit, but I’m way too complicated for an easy lay.

In fact, this version of me is still untouched.

So I’m sitting there, minding my own business, when a guy in a backward cap and a polo shirt comes swaggering over, sloshing the contents of their plastic party cup as they do. “My buddy just bet me $100 that I wouldn’t be able to get close enough to touch your boobs. What do you say? Let me, and we’ll split the pot 70/30?”

Yes, yes, you heard that right. He tried to pay me $30 to touch my boobs.

“Pass,” I told him, waiting for him to leave.

But he took a step forward anyway, so I put myself on the defensive. When he tried to sit next to me, I kicked the chair away so he couldn’t be too close, which made him angry, and also made him spill his drink all over his shirt when he tried to lurch after the chair to prevent it from completely falling over.

“You fucking kidding me? Do you know how bad I’m going to smell the rest of the night now?” he basically yelled.

I didn’t really care about inconveniencing him in the slightest, but I was done talking to him. So I walked off and was about to leave the party when I saw someone sitting off to the side of the porch, also alone, also drinking soda, and just sort of watching the stars that were starting to emerge.

I remember feeling my footsteps pausing because there was something intriguing about him. I approached him without any expectations, but he had a nice smile, and he was kind.

I don’t remember what we talked about, but I ended up staying for quite a while at that party, sitting with him the whole time.

He told me his name was Ross, but I didn’t really believe him. So I became Danica, but I don’t think he believed me either.

I haven’t laughed as hard as I laughed that weekend in a long time. I remember the butterflies in my stomach when he put his arm around me, and how at one point we accidentally bumped noses when we turned into each other at the same time to say something, but it made us realize how badly we wanted to kiss each other.

So I kissed him, and then he kissed me back, and soon we were making out and it all felt so good. There was no pressure, and I think the fact that I had no idea who he was, and just thought he was a nice guy that made me feel good about myself, made me want to see him again.

We hung out a few times and it always ended the same way; making out, pushing the limits.

Until we came to a point where we both were ready for more, and after talking about it, we decided to go for it.

I slept with him, and it wasn’t great, I don’t even think he got me off, but he was adorably awkward afterward and I never regretted it.

He moved away shortly after with his family and we lost touch, but my first time was definitely something I think about from time to time. I never thought I’d see him again.

Here’s where things get twisty, Journal. We’re going to skip all the information you don’t know, because let’s be honest, you’re paper and I don’t think you really care about whether or not I give you every bit of pertinent information, not when you’re likely orgasming under each pen stroke I give you (did I just make this weird?). But tonight, Ross, aka, Rush, walked into my apartment with blue skin, claiming to be my fiancé.

And you know what? He’s right.

He is my fiancé, because I’m pretty sure he tricked me into sleeping with him back then knowing already that if I did, I’d have to marry him someday.

Nothing like a bit of manipulation to start a relationship off the right way.

I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to play this.

In order for you to not go absolutely insane before I have another need to drain my emotions to you, I’ll leave you with some weird drawings. Now you have something to puzzle over, something to keep your mind busy. Good luck figuring out why I drew any of it.