Desperate

Around 11, Evan decided it was time to go home. I protested, and “We both have work tomorrow…” was his pathetic excuse. I kissed him at the door and aimlessly wandered around my living room. His kiss sent me so far over the edge, I’m surprised I could even stand. Evan always put me in such a high. When I’m with him, it’s a paradox. Time seems to stop completely, leaving us alone in the world. But it also flies by much too quickly. When he leaves, I count the seconds until I can see him again. We have so much emotional, mental, and.. ehem..physical chemistry, which is why we make the perfect couple. Which is why I couldn’t tell him about Brock.

Brock Tucker and I met back in my first year of college. He was a junior taking a freshman-only class. He was the typical bad-boy player that teenage girls couldn’t get enough of. I was eighteen when Brock hit on me. He was twenty-one. I believe his line was “Hey baby. If you like the bad boys, then you're looking at your perfect future boyfriend. But if you like the good ones, then I can get you alcohol.”

“…why does that make you a ‘good guy’?”

“Cause baby. I’m legal. I can get you beer without breakin’ the law. And then, once we’re both drunk, I’ll convince you to turn to the bad boy side.”

I refused, which is what I think sparked his interest. Brock only went after the freshman girls. They were new, they were scared, and they were young. And he was hot, older, and totally bad. Any girl he wanted, he immediately got (and then tossed aside a few days later), mainly because he was able to legally give them alcohol. Even though the girls were underage, they felt like it was still okay to drink since they got it “legally.“ And as we all know, college is all about drinking. However, I kept a few of my Mormon beliefs when I entered college, and staying away from drugs and alcohol was one of them. Brock attacked me with pick-up lines every day for a month after I turned him down. And everyday was the same answer. “Sorry, no thanks.”

One day, however, he didn’t ask me out. He completely ignored me. And while I was satisfied on the outside, I was tearing up on the inside. “Why isn’t he talking to me? Why won’t he look at me? I put on my best make-up for THIS!?”

Even though I had rejected him everyday for many weeks, I was still an eighteen-year-old girl. When he started ignoring me, I began to freak out over every little thing. Was I not smiling enough? Was I smiling too much? Does he not like my outfit? Does he not like my hairstyle? Is he dating someone else?

I pretended not to care when he brushed by me in the hallway. I didn’t show my sadness when he didn’t acknowledge my greeting. I wouldn’t let him see my disappointment when I dropped my books in front of him and he acted like he didn’t notice.

My friends all thought I was crazy. A few of them had actually gone out with Brock once or twice, and tried to convince me that he was no one to cry over. I shrugged them off and went back to my dorm to think. And then I realized. He wasn’t ignoring me because my hair wasn’t perfect or my new perfume smelled gross. It was because I had hurt his ego. Destroyed his reputation. When word got around that a girl had rejected Brock Tucker on multiple occasions, his street cred decreased insanely. The one girl who could have possibly tamed the wild stallion that was Brock Tucker had said no. And he was hurt. He was depressed.

Because I turned him down.

Now, today’s Mikayla would have been pleased with this. But the old Mikayla felt pity. So the old, naïve, stupid Mikayla walked right up to him in World Literature and asked him out for pizza. Today’s Mikayla would have noticed that his sudden smile was just a stupid act, but the old Mikayla thought it was sincere. Thought she made him happy. Thought she mattered.

I had been Brock’s longest relationship, if you could call it that. In fact, to this day I don’t believe he’s dated a girl longer than he dated me. We had been boyfriend and girlfriend for a year and a half, and continued a “friends-with-benefits” relationship with him for many months after. But I’m still not a slut. Our “friends-with-benefits” relationship was more like a “friends-who-make-out-when-Brock-gets-drunk” relationship. And then I met Evan.

I said before that I’ve only been with two men in my life, but that they meshed together. Well, Evan and Brock have been meshing together ever since I’ve known them. Brock was the motorcycle-riding, leather jacket-wearing, alcohol-chugging boy that every girl wants, but Evan’s the sedan-driving, clothes-folding, promise ring-buying man that every girl needs. And I do mean needs. When I met Evan, he became like a drug to me. I wanted to spend every waking moment with him. And while that would scare most guys away, he stuck with me. I did get the occasional weird look when I was being too clingy, but he never ran. Even when he found out I had been messing around with Brock behind his back.

With everything I’ve done to Evan, it probably seems as though I don’t deserve him. I don’t. I’ve messed up so many times in our wonderful relationship, and he hasn’t done a single thing wrong. He’s perfect. He forgave me when he caught me making out with Brock. He stayed by my side when I told him I thought I was falling for Brock again. He didn’t break up with me when he found out I had been calling Brock for weeks at midnight just to hear his raspy voice.

When I look back at all of these things, I look like the world’s most horrible girlfriend. I’ll be the first one to admit that I probably am. However, it’s not like I did these things on a regular basis. Brock disappeared from my life when I started dating Evan. He only came back every few months or years and called me immediately every time he did. And I answered. Every time. I know I shouldn’t have, and I’d like to say that I’ve grown and that Today’s Mikayla wouldn’t answer his calls. But she did. A few weeks ago.

Damnit.

I had to stop thinking about Brock. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thinking about him because I still had feelings for him. It was absolutely the opposite. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I loathed him. About how big of a mistake my life had become the day I went out with Brock Tucker. I turned on my television and tried to pay attention to the people moving across the screen, but it wasn’t helping. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the crushing guilt of Brock’s possible child in my body. The child that Evan would one day call his son. Oh my God, I need to tell someone. I need advice. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number of the one person I knew I could talk to.