On a Wednesday by Whitney G.
Courtney: Then
Senior Year
Pittsburgh
That night
“Marissa?” I knocked on the student art director’s door.
“Yeah, Courtney?” She looked up from a bowl of ramen.
“Can you email me that review of The Vagina Monologues before midnight?” I asked. “Even if it’s just a few lines and you have to adjust it later, I’ll take it.”
“That’s due today?”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms. “We went over this last week, and I left you a voicemail last night.”
“Oh … I was having sex with my boyfriend then,” she said. “I try not to check my phone whenever he comes over, because, the orgasms get pretty intense.”
I really didn’t need to know that. “Just send it by midnight so I can submit it to the layout team.”
“You know what?” She scarfed down a forkful of her noodles. “I’m going to send you the review I did for it two years ago, and then you can insert the new actors’ names. It’s not like anyone will know, right?”
I sighed. “Give me the ticket, Marissa.”
“Are you sure?” She raised her eyebrow. “My original review was amazing!”
I nodded, refusing to tell her that we never ran her review because she pieced together the words of popular YouTubers instead of penning her own.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me an envelope. “You know, I don’t care what anyone on this staff says. You’re not some dumb blonde who is trying too hard to come off smarter than you look. You’re passionate, and you more than deserve to be our editor-in-chief.”
“There are people here who think that I don’t deserve to be?”
She stuffed another forkful of noodles into her mouth. “The play starts in half an hour. May take you a while to get there in the rain, if you don’t hurry up and leave.”
Biting my tongue, I grabbed my umbrella and headed outside, taking my time to walk to the theater.
By the time I made it to the designated seat in the front row, the lights were flickering above the stage.
Flipping through the program’s brochure, I highlighted all of the leads’ names and wrote a few notes in the margins.
As I was summarizing the plot’s theme, someone to my left cleared a throat.
I looked up and saw Kyle Stanton dressed in a black T-shirt that hugged his abs in all the right ways and dark blue jeans.
“Well, hello there.” He showed off his perfect smile. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
I didn’t answer him. I was half caught off guard by how sexy he was, half trying to remember the exact reason why I vowed to never speak to him again.
As he tilted his head to the side in anticipation of an answer, the once fuzzy memory came flashing back with full clarity.
He left me hanging on purpose … Never even apologized.
I’d told him to meet me at Kiva Han so we could knock out our parts over a weekend, and he smiled and asked for my phone number.
Obviously, I refused.
Instead, I wrote down the address of the cafe and the meeting time.
I even sent him an email the night before.
He never showed up, and I was left to do eleven and a half hours of work alone.
“Are you struggling to hear my voice?” he asked, pulling me back into reality. “I feel like we’ve had run-ins before and you heard me just fine. By the way, what’s your name again?”
“Eleven and a half hours,” I said. “Eleven and a half hours …”
“Well, I’ll credit your parents for being unique, but that’s a bit of a mouthful.” He smirked. “I’m sure you’re legally allowed to change that now, right?”
“That’s not my name.” I glared at him. “That’s the amount of time that I had to spend working on our group project freshman year, alone. The one that you never even bothered to ask about, after I emailed you more than once.”
“It’s not healthy to hold grudges this long, Eleven and a half hours.” He smiled. “If it’s making you this angry after all this time, you should let me make that up to you after this.”
“Too late,” I said. “I already finished it, and I got an A. You also got one that you didn’t deserve. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you.” He was still smiling, still turning me on with ease.
“Let’s pretend like we’ve never met before,” he said, extending his hand toward me. “I’m Kyle Stanton. And you are?”
“Here with The Pitt News to watch the show, so if you don’t mind—”
“It hasn’t even started yet.” He looked around the theater. “And from the looks of things, it doesn’t seem like that many people are interested in seeing this shit. With a title like Vagina Monologue, I can’t say that I blame them.”
I felt my lips turning up into a small smile, but I didn’t let it stay.
“It’s preview night.” I glanced at his badge. “It’s only for theater majors and early reviewers. What girl’s room did you steal your pass from?”
“You can’t honestly believe that I would willingly steal a pass to come see something like this, can you?” He moved closer to me. “I’m here to write a punishment report for my coach.”
I bit my tongue before I could ask him what that meant.
“You know what?” He tapped his chin. “I think that means we should share notes to make this easier on both of us. Or maybe we can take turns staying awake? I’ll sleep through act one while you watch, and then you can sleep while I stay up for act two.”
I closed my notebook and stood to my feet. Then I moved several seats away from him.
Laughing, he looked completely unfazed as he settled into my previous seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” A man dressed in all-black walked to the center of the stage. “We’d like to thank you for coming to see the first run through of The Vagina Monologues, but I regret to inform you that we’re having some major technical difficulties with our audio. I know you’re disappointed, but we’ll have to reschedule this showing for next Wednesday morning. Thank you.”
“Yes!” “Hell yes!” “Let’s go drink!”
The other members of the audience didn’t sound disappointed in the slightest.
I tucked the playbill into my bag and stood up, finding myself face to face with Kyle and his perfect lips.
“Looks like we’ll be seeing each other again next Wednesday.” He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I can’t say that I feel the same.”
“The fact that your panties are currently wet for me says otherwise.”
“What?” I blushed. “How did you know they were wet?”
“I didn’t.” He smirked. “Now that I do, though, what do you want to do about it?”
“Do you like, think about the words before they come out of your mouth, or do you just let them fly?”
“What answer will convince you to continue this conversation back at my place?”
I moved past him. “Goodbye, Kyle Stanton.”
“You mean, see you next Wednesday?”
“No, I’ll have a regular staffer here in my place.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t see you.”
“Want to bet?”
“Absolutely.”