Our conversation progresses into Sunday family dinner night. She always asks and I wonder if it’s because she’s genuinely curious or if it has more to do with my brother Will. Holly knows about my ongoing childhood crush on Maddox. She’s the only one who knows, for that matter.
“Maddox was there this week,” I said after I swallow a big gulp of water.
“Really? Did you tell him you’re madly in love with him and want to have screaming sex with him?”
“Of course not! He doesn’t like me. He looks at me like I’m his best friend’s little sister.”
“You are his best friend’s little sister,” she replies dryly.
“I know that, but I’m not a little girl anymore. He still sees me as the little girl who followed him and Jake around all the time, staring up at him with big googly eyes and a dorky brace-face smile.”
She chuckles a little at that one. “You know, if you don’t go for it with him, he’s going to find someone else to wrap those strong arms around and shower with kisses from those mouth-watering, to-die-for lips.”
“Geez, Holl. Are you sure you’re not the one with the massive crush?” I ask mostly as a joke, but realize that the thought of Holly crushing on Maddox wasn’t that funny at all.
“Every woman in town notices that man. You should just walk up to him, throw your arms around him, and kiss him. I bet you won’t be disappointed.”
“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, knowing good and well that I won’t be doing that anytime soon.
“Hey, why don’t we go out next Saturday night? It’s been a while since we went to Jack’s for some drinks and pool. I bet your mom would keep Brookie Bean for you until Sunday dinner.”
“Okay. That does sound like fun. I’ll ask her tomorrow when I swing by the bakery.”
I proceed to tell her all about my conversation with my mom about Drake and his newest squeeze, Kelsey. “Geez, Kelsey? She sounds 18. Is she a cheerleader, too?” Holly asks sarcastically.
“She’s a junior in college apparently. I hope she doesn’t mind sharing her boyfriend,” I throw out there as my mind returns briefly to my own relationship with Drake.
If there’s one thing Drake can’t do, it is monogamy. I started dating him the summer before my seventeenth birthday. Drake was my first boyfriend; my first everything. Well, almost first everything. He had just turned nineteen when we met, and I was smitten from that first moment. We met at the river where all the kids go for swimming, sunbathing, and to hang out with friends. He was super tan in his board shorts that hung low on his lean hips. He had just finished his freshman year of college, and every girl was looking at him with lust filled eyes. Ultimately, it was me he approached that day, and we hit it off right away. He used his good manners and sexy smile to charm his way into my life and eventually, my pants. On my seventeenth birthday, he gave me a beautiful heart necklace, and in return, I gave him my virginity. I fell hard and fast for Drake Connor.
It took awhile before I heard the first rumor of Drake being with another girl from a few towns over. It was my senior year in high school and he was a junior in college. When I confronted him on it, he swore he was faithful to me and that the rumor was started by a jealous frat brother. Of course, being the naïve eighteen year old, I believed him. In fact, the way he looked at me made me feel guilty for questioning his faithfulness and loyalty to me.
By the time I graduated from high school, I started hearing more and more rumors. Girls I didn’t even know were coming up to me on the street and telling me he was cheating on me. One girl in particular called me up and told me she had been with Drake multiple times. Again, I confronted him, and he denied it. So when she called again, I told her off. I didn’t have time for jealous girls and their petty stupidity. That’s when she sent me copies of their text messages back and forth. She even had photos; lots of photos. I was sick; literally sick to my stomach at his betrayal. Turns out it wasn’t only his betrayal making me nauseous because that’s also when I noticed my period was late. After a brief conversation with Holly over the phone that involved a whole lot of crying, she met me at my parent’s house with a drug store bag full of pregnancy tests. First test came back positive right away. So did the next four. I was nineteen, pregnant with a cheater’s baby, alone, and nursing a broken heart from the man who swore he’d always be by my side.
Even after we broke up, I assumed he’d be a part of his child’s life. When I told him that I was pregnant, his response was to tell me it wasn’t his. Apparently, in his mind if he’s not faithful, I’m not being faithful either. He threw me out of our apartment we just rented together. Seriously, the ink was barely dry on the lease. He walked away telling me he wasn’t ruining his life by saddling himself up to a baby. Who says that, anyway? I didn’t get myself pregnant, mister. I can count on one hand how many times Drake has seen Brooklyn in the three years since her birth. Even then, he doesn’t acknowledge her as his child. Jerk.