Maneater Chapter 2 by Red Vixen

Maneater Chapter 2Mike’s reaction changed everything for me. It changed the way I felt about sex, the way I felt about myself, and most importantly, Mike himself had unintentionally changed our relationship. I knew that telling him the truth was going to have some effect, but I had no idea it would be smiling laughter.

First I thought about waiting a few days and then lying to him, saying I wasn’t on the pill anymore. That might’ve worked. Or he might have decided it was better to get into trouble for fighting me than to have sex with me. I was 5’3″ and weighed 93 pounds. Getting hit by any boy could be bad for my health.

I just felt like there was nothing there for me anymore. Mike knew my ways and my temperament. The initial shock was gone. I felt like it was time to move on. I was a selfish, evil little bitch, and I knew it. I just didn’t care.

When I got back to school that following Monday morning, I heard a conversation that would change things even more. I was on my way to Mike’s locker when I heard three boys having a very interesting conversation. I stopped nearby and pretended to be looking for something in my bag just so I could hear what they were saying.

“Who a virgin?” said a boy who was obviously a virgin. Maybe he wasn’t, but he looked like a virgin to me. “I know you not talkin’ ’bout me. I beats up on pussy like it owe me money! You wanna talk about virgins? Talk to dis nigga right here! He couldn’t get in a pussy if he turned into a condom!”

“Me?” asked another obvious virgin defiantly. “You couldn’t find pussy on a map! When you do get you some, call me and tell me how it was.”

“Pussy not on no map, stupid!”

“I don’t think either one of you ever seen no parts of pussy,” said the third boy. He wasn’t the most attractive, but he did appear more casual about the subject, as if he’d really had sex before. “When you do get it, you won’t even care about these conversations no more. You won’t care who did it before and who didn’t. All you will care about is what I care about: doin’ it again!”

That seemed to end the conversation as the boys gave each other dap and moved off toward their different destinations. I suddenly “found” what I was looking for in my bag and moved on. I’d wasted some time listening to them and was hoping I could still catch Mike at his locker before classes began. After hearing that conversation, I decided to just go ahead and break up with Mike. I convinced myself that I’d actually done him a favor. At least he wasn’t a virgin anymore.

I caught Mike as he was taking the last of his books from his locker. As he closed the locker door I looked at him with a very serious face. “Mike, we need to talk.”

“Sure, baby!” he said with an easy confidence I’d never seen in him before. He’d never called me “baby” before, either. I looked at how he was dressed, and it was different somehow. The same boy, the same clothes, but neater. “You like my waves?” He looked down so I could see the top of his head.

“Very nice!” I answered honestly. Mike always came to school with either a caesar (a quarter inch or less of hair cut evenly around his head) or a plain old bald head. Waves? They looked nice, but since when did he start caring about that? It seemed to me he was undergoing a change.

He smiled at my compliment and said, “Thank you. What’s up?”

“Mike, we have to end this relationship. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asked. I felt it was a fair question, but I had no intention of answering it.

“That’s just the way it is. Please don’t make this difficult.”

“Huh?” he asked in complete shock. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re making this hard.”

“What? By asking a question?”

“Yes, Mike. By asking a question. I’m sorry.” With that I walked away. I can honestly say I felt bad, but only a little. Since I’d done him such a wonderful favor his life would be forever improved and he’d always have me to thank for that.

That first week was the hardest. Relationships were nothing new, but before the introduction of sex they were much easier to end. He called me every day for more than a week. I stopped answering the phone at home so I wouldn’t accidentally end up talking to him. I certainly never returned any of his calls. Then, in the middle of the following week, he turned the tables on me. He was the one coming to my house!

I remember it was a Wednesday because empty garbage cans lined the street. As I got off the bus I was surprised to hear, “Rhonda! Rhonda, wait up. It’s me, Mike!” I rolled my eyes before turning around. The boy had intentionally taken my bus home and sat quietly the whole way until the driver came to the stop near my house. I guess he didn’t want anyone on the bus to hear our conversation.

I really was annoyed, but I made an intentional effort to sound even more annoyed than I was. “Mike, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I miss you, Rhonda. You never told me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s over. I’m sorry I don’t have an explanation for you, but it’s still over. Okay? Please go home.”

“Can’t we go inside and talk about this?”

When he said “go inside and talk about this,” I assumed sex was on his mind, so I figured I might be able to discourage such thoughts. “I’m not on the pill anymore, Mike. Let’s not go and ruin our futures, okay?”

“We don’t have to have sex. I just want to be with you.”

FUCK! I thought to myself. This is just wonderful. Here comes a lifetime’s worth of guilt. Why do you have to be so goddamned sweet, Mike? I hadn’t been expecting that. After all I’d done to him, and all the changes that had taken place, he was still as sweet as candy. It touched me so deeply I nearly shed a tear and let him into the house.

Then I thought of a song my father used to listen to when I was a little girl. Ain’t no such things as halfway crooks. Scared to death and scared to look, they shook. I couldn’t be a “halfway crook.” If I was going to be an evil bitch, I had to go all the way.

“You’re really sweet, Mike, but it’s over.” I turned to walk away. He grabbed my arm.

“That’s not good enough!” he said angrily.

“Who do you think you are?” I asked, trying not to show how frightened I was. “You can’t tell me what’s good enough any more than I can tell you! Now let go of my arm!” He let go, but the anger was still on his face. “Boy! Sex really does things to a boy’s mind, doesn’t it?” I said those word without the slightest thought of what it had done and was still doing to my own mind.

A part of me wanted Mike to come into the house with me. I wanted him to hold me in his arms again. Then I thought about how I wanted to date other boys. I thought about what I’d have to do to experience that thrill again, and how I felt when I saw fear in his eyes. For that to happen, I had to turn cold. Mike had to go.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. “I don’t know why I did that. Please forgive me, Rhonda.”

I was going to walk away at that moment, but I figured I’d at least try to appeal to his logical side. “Mike, there are plenty of girls at this school who really need a guy like you. You’ll never find them if you don’t try. It’s not logical to waste your time on me. Move on.”

“No, Rhonda. That’s not how it works,” he said to my back as I walked away. “Give me a chance! Please? At least tell me what I did wrong! Rhonda! Rhondaaaa!” As soon as I got around the corner I ran toward my house. It wasn’t fear, but desperation for the situation to be over as quickly as possible that pushed me to move more quickly. I would still see him in Trig class and in the halls between classes, but I felt like I could deal with that.

In school the next day Mike met me at my locker, which was another turning of the tables for him. I rolled my eyes so hard they could’ve gotten stuck up there. “Mike, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry for visiting you at your house, Rhonda,” he blurted out. “I thought I could touch your heart, but I see now that you don’t have one.”

Annoyed, I responded curtly. “Guilty as charged. Anything else?”

I couldn’t bear the sight of disappointment and brokenheartedness on his face. This time he was the one who walked away. I stared at the back of his head for a moment. Being a coldhearted bitch was harder than I thought. I slammed the locker door and walked toward homeroom. I hadn’t even gotten all my books! I’d end up having to make another trip to my locker after this class, but I had to think about something different before I began to feel something I didn’t want to deal with.

In Trig class later that day, a note landed on my desk while I was listening to the teacher. I couldn’t even tell who had put it there. At first I was going to pretend I didn’t see anything and only say something if the teacher did. He kept teaching, and seemed almost to refuse to see what was going on behind the student in front of me. He actually said something funny. The whole class laughed. While I was pretending to laugh with them, I put the note under my hand. Before making it disappear into the pocket of my jeans, I noticed it was folded in half, not tightly folded in some complex pattern like some geeks do. I unfolded it and saw the words, “I miss you” written in cursive. I was no good for the rest of the class. I silently cried right there in the classroom. I wanted to run to him and cry in his arms. Then the bell rang. I had to think of other things.

It was a good thing high school kept me so busy. By the end of the day I simply threw the note in the trash and stopped looking at it. After some time to think about it, I felt all this was emotional. I didn’t need him, and he didn’t need me. A three word note wasn’t going to change that. Besides, what kind of future would I have if I was such a sap? I laughed it off.