Boy Toy Chronicles
Page 6

“Wh-what do you mean?” she stutters.
“Well, it's been what? A few days since we've seen each other and all of a sudden you think it's okay to dress like a whore and start selling yourself as available?”
“Ow!” Allie's breath shook. “Please let me go.”
“You belong to me, Allie. Don't fucking forget that!”
Blood rushes to my ears. “Al? What the fuck is going on?”
She ends the call.
I turn the car around and start the two-hour drive to her school. I don't even care if she is my best friend—if she's with him when I get there, I'll beat his ass and spank hers.
***
Mel, Allie's roommate, answers their door. “Waddup playa,” she greets, raising her chin and throwing her fist out for a bump. If you looked up stereotype Asian lesbian on Wikipedia, it would be a picture of her. Allie brought her to the house once and the guys had a wager on who could bed her. She didn't fold, and at the end of her stay she actually got up on the pool table in the rec room and announced that she was flattered, but she was strictly non dickly. In fact, penises grossed her out completely. Flaccid—hard—it didn't matter.
I return her fist-bump and ask her where Allie is.
She shrugs. “She didn't know you were coming?”
“No. Kind of wanted it to be a surprise.”
She motions her head inside the dorm and opens the door wider for me. I follow behind her as she picks up her phone and calls Allie. “Where you at, whore?”
I sit on Allie's bed and look around her side of the room. Every time I come here I feel like I'm that fifteen-year-old kid, trying to ignore the immature crush I have on my best friend. And as much as I don't want to admit it…her room feels more like home than mine does. Allie—she’s kind of home to me.
Picking up the frame on the nightstand, I inspect the picture, It’s a collage of us as kids growing up together. The one in the center is of us at senior prom—her features scrunched while I licked the side of her face. Even pissed off and disgusted she was beautiful.
“Tyler?”
I lift my gaze to Mel, whose eyes are narrowed as they look between me and the frame in my hand.
“You should just tell her, you know?”
I play dumb. “Tell her what?”
“Dude…”
Sighing, I place the frame back on the nightstand and flop back onto the bed. Allie's perfume invades my senses. “Is she coming back?”
“No. She's watching Tim play basketball. That guy's a dick. I kind of hate him.”
“You and me both,” I tell her, standing up and shoving my hands in my pockets. “Hey…have you ever seen him do anything physical with her?”
“You mean sex? Yeah, all the time.”
I shake my head quickly and push down the puke, though the image is already burned in my eyeballs. And in my mind. I need a douching of my brain. “No. I mean…is he extra rough with her?”
“You mean sex? Because once she starts moaning—”
“No!” I cut in. “I mean…” I break off with a sigh. “You know what? Never mind. Can you take me to the courts?”
“Wait…” she says, eyeing me sideways. “When you said you wanted it to be a surprise…you meant a good surprise, right?”
“Of course, Mel,” I lie. And even though I can tell she doesn't believe me, she agrees anyway.
It takes us ten minutes to walk to the courts, where Allie's red hair makes her stand out from everyone else sitting on the bleachers. “Good luck,” Mel says, nudging my side. “If you're hanging around we should kick it tonight, find some pussy? You can be my wing-man, I'll be your wing-bitch.”
I fake a laugh, my eyes on Allie. “Maybe.”
She smacks my ass as she spins on her heels. “Laters, Playboy.”
Allie's too busy inspecting her hand; she doesn't even notice me sit down next to her. Just like she doesn't notice me inspecting the red marks circling her wrist.
“Did he do that?” I ask her, staring straight ahead. The sound of my voice echoes in my ears—it doesn't even sound like me. It sounds like death mixed with anger. I grip the edge of the bench and start to rock back and forth.
“Wh—what are you doing here, Tyler?”
With gritted teeth, I clip, “Answer me, Allie.”
She places her soft, cold, hand on my cheek—or at least it feels cold. Maybe because my blood is fucking boiling and it's taking everything in me to not march up to Tim, playing ball as if nothing’s wrong. I jerk away from her touch, my heart pounding out of my chest. “Allie.”
“It's not something you need to worry about.”
I turn to her now—ignoring the ache in my chest at the confusion on her face. She's biting her lip, her gaze penetrating mine. And I see right through her bullshit, because I know her better than she knows herself. “You're about to lie to me aren't you?”
“No,” she whispers. And there's the first one.
“Did he hurt you, Allie?”
She tries to grasp the crook of my elbow, because she knows what I'm about to do. I shrug out of her hold and ask one more time, “Did. He. Hurt. You?”
Her eyes drift shut. Right before the second lie leaves her. “No.”
Then I'm on my feet, stalking toward him.
She shouts my name.