Page 2 of Longing for More
Did you wear the red lipstick again? From last year?
Me
Oh…the dick-proof one?
Mayyyybe.
Ryder
Tease.
Me
Hey baby?
Ryder
Yes?
Me
If I sit on the big man’s lap tonight, do you think I can convince him to bring my Marine home and mark me up like I’ve been on the naughty list all year?
Ryder
Oh my.
Is that what you want, angel?
Me
One of the things ;)
A bangon the stall door startled me, forcing me to jump away. I lean against the cold, white bricks to my right, decorated with pine leaves, red glitter strings, and taped paper ornaments. The decorators in this place went above and beyond this year.
I glared dramatically through the cracks of the restroom door as Natalie’s voice echoed throughout the small space. The toy donation bathroom had multiple stalls and I had been lucky toavoid anyone…until then. “Do I need to send a rescue mission in there for you? What the fuck is taking so long, girl?”
“I’m good!” I called back immediately, lying through my teeth as I turned back towards the toilet and stack of toilet paper rolls that had been built in the shape of a Christmas tree. “I-uh, was touching up my makeup.”
“Right…in the stall, instead of the mirror…four feet in front of us. That checks out.”
“I have my own compact mirror, thank you very much.”
“Oh, poor girl,” she said, sarcasm lacing her tone. “I’m assuming that’s why your darling Ryder just texted me, telling me, ‘Hey, can you do me a favor and go rescue my girlfriend from herself, and maybe give her a White Russian while you’re at it’ then?”
My cherry mouth popped open as I turned back towards the stall door. “That motherfucker!”
“Mmhmm. C’mon, Grinch. Open the door.”
For the briefest of moments, I truly considered ignoring her and finding an escape route. I could have shimmied underneath the stall doors and Spiderman escaped out a window, if I could find one without her noticing, but even then—I knew I wouldn’t get far.
Knowing Natalie and her kickboxing hobbies, it would have probably ended in one of three ways.
She would chase me and drag me back into the venue, kick my ass for wasting my makeup and her time, or do both while posting the entire event on her Instagram story.
The bitch.
Rotting in my bed just sounded so much better than socializing with my friends and pretending to be happy around so many kids, though. I knew everything was for a good cause, and I was generally happy to do it when Ryder was by my side, but that year felt remarkably different.