No. Today was a day for change.
She silently raided her mother's closet and makeup case before taking herself to the bathroom and preparing herself.
"Donald? Hey, how are you doing? Wanna come over and wish me a happy birthday?"
The poor sap had no idea what was waiting for him. With Leda and Joey quietly vacating the house to collect their profits from their three partnerships, Freya had plans.
"Hey, wha- FREYA?"
She grinned at him. "Hey. Umm...something wrong?"
He gaped at her for a moment more before he closed his mouth and smiled shakily. "Nah, not at all. You just...happy birthday!"
Freya ushered him in with a chuckle. "Hey, I'm gonna get a drink of water. You want one?"
"No. No, I'm good."
Donald immediately made his way to the couch, and Freya glanced over her shoulder toward him as she washed the glass she'd just drank out of. Kyle would throw a fit if she didn't.
Well. Here was the moment of truth. With her heart fluttering, she gulped and made her way toward the couch. Maybe with these high heels on, her breastbone and shoulders bared, her legs flexing...maybe something else would come out of her than shy little Freya.
Donald came to his feet immediately when she paused beside the couch, his eyes unwavering from her face.
Freya flicked her tongue out to moisten her dry lips, ever conscious of how Donald's eyes followed its moment. "So...it's my birthday." She chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Kind of weird, isn't it? Being out of school like this?" She'd never been conscious of Donald's age like she was now. Here she was, fresh out of high school, and he was already a mature adult, one on his way to becoming an old man.
"You get used to it," he said softly, his voice thick in his throat, as he flicked his eyes toward her own. "You...grew up beautifully. You know that, right?"
The air crackled around them. Freya gulped as she lifted her chin and smiled.
"Careful, Donald. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to kiss me."
His eyes sparkled mischievously.
"A guy like me knows better than to touch a gem like you without an invitation."
There was only one invitation that she could think of.
The moment was swift, fleeting, but filled with a certain sweetness that she couldn't misplace. When she pulled back, she looked up at Donald shyly. The fire in his eyes set her heart pounding. "Was...was that invitation enough?" she asked tentatively.
He suddenly reached out and pulled her flush against him, kissing her with lips far more experienced than her own. As his hands traced hungrily up and down her back, her arms, her cheeks, her hair, she felt a whirlpool churning inside her that she couldn't get away from.
Donald broke from her lips for a single moment to press his forehead against hers and to stare deeply into her eyes, ignoring the way her glasses pressed against his nose. "I...have wanted to do that for ages."
She sucked in a shaky breath, gripping his sleeves for dear life. "I don't want you to stop."
"We don't have to." He kissed her again, a searing action that took her breath away. "But you might...be more comfortable on a bed."
When he pressed her against the scratchy cotton and she felt every plane and angle of his body against hers, she knew there wasn't any other way for this to end. As Donald stared deeply into her eyes, she stared back for only a moment before she nodded.
In the nights where she'd laid awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling in a flush of adolescent hormones, Freya never knew what to expect from Donald. She imagined that he was a tentative lover, soft and gentle and coaxing.
She didn't expect the tidal wave of passion that poured out of him, all-encompassing and burning and even rough at times.
She expected it even less when moments after he climaxed, when they lay in bed panting together, Donald suddenly pulled away from her when she reached to touch his face.
As he stood up, Freya stared blankly at the door, trying to process what had just happened. "...Donald?"
"I've gotta get home," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the rest of his clothing, scattered wildly around the room.
"What?" She almost laughed. "What do you MEAN, you've gotta get home?"
Look, Freya, it's been a good time, but..." She waited as he paused beside his pants and turned to look at her, choosing his words carefully. "I...can't."
"You can't...what?"
As she climbed out of bed, she heard him chuckle softly. "Are you honestly gonna tell me that you're not gonna want to make this serious?"
"What? Donald, of COURSE I want to make it serious." She looked at him plaintively. "I've...I've had a crush on you ever since high school. I really liked you. I...God, I LOVE you."
He looked away from her awkwardly, shaking his head. "You don't love me."
"...I think I know what I feel."
"You're wrong." Donald grabbed his pants and went to look for his shirt. "You think I'm cute, you're close to me, and I just took your virginity. You think you love me. You really don't."
"What the hell are you talking about?" She tore around her bed and pushed his clothes out of his hands, glaring at him. "I know what I'm feeling. What, are you just...scared or something?"
Donald took a step toward her, his lips thin. "This isn't gonna get serious, sweetheart. That's not the kind of guy I am."
"Sure you-"
"I'm NOT," he snapped at her, slashing a hand through the air. "Look, you're cute, all right? You're even...beautiful. And I would've done anything in high school to get a taste of that." He paused, formulating his thoughts again, even as Freya's horror slowly began to grow. "Hell, I've wanted a piece of that ever since I graduated. Every night." His words were bitter now. She could taste it in the air. It made her want to vomit. "Look at you, Freya. You're still just a kid, and my hair's turning gray. There's no way anything's ever gonna happen with you and me." His lips curved into a smirk. "But no man's crazy enough to turn down what you offered me today."
She slapped him.
He stood there for a moment, the sting ringing in the air, before he glared at her and leaned close. "Truth hurts, doesn't it, sweetie?"
"Don't you call me that. Don't you EVER call me that." Freya licked her swollen lips again, feeling every inch of her beginning to shake. "You used me. You played with my emotions, and you-"
"You enjoyed every second of it."
She pointed over her shoulder. "Get the hell out of my house."
He tugged on his clothes and left, slamming the door behind him. Freya stared blankly at the wall before she sank down to the floor. She winced the instant that she sat, touching her abdomen and staring at the cotton white sheets of her bed. She was going to have to burn those, wasn't she?
Kyle, conscious of Donald's car in the driveway, didn't hesitate as he climbed the stairs. Freya was alone with him. She was alone, and- when Donald suddenly came strutting out the front door, every inch of him turned cold. Donald threw him a smile, like they were the bestest buds, and it took every inch of Kyle to restrain himself. He threw himself through the front door. "Freya? Freya, where the hell are you?"
She was already coming down the second flight of stairs. Her glasses were crooked, her hair was mussed, and her skin was shiny with sweat. "...Kyle?"
"Shit," he whispered.
He pulled her close to him, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, and pressed his forehead into the crook of her shoulder. She smelled musky. He hated that. He wanted it all to be gone.
The took of them didn't say another word. When Freya suddenly pulled back from him and took his hand, tugging him toward the couch, Kyle didn't hesitate. He followed her and sat beside her.
He only broke the pact of silence when a commercial came on the TV.
"Did you...use protection?"
She was silent, but she shook her head.
"...what...are you gonna do if you get pregnant?"
She stared at him. Count on her little brother to be more blunt than anyone else on the planet.
After a few seconds of a man trying to sell pants via infomercial, Freya shrugged. "I'll take the kid. We'll go live in some tiny little house where no one'll see us. It'll just be me and her against the world or something."
"Man. No wonder you want to be an author." Kyle looked at her seriously. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Don't leave. Remember?"
"...yeah. Yeah, I remember." She squeezed it back. "To be honest...I'd be scared to. I can't raise a kid on my own."
"Don't worry." Kyle's voice burned with such conviction that she looked at him. "I'll be here. And I'll help."
"..." She nodded before leaning over and placing her head on his shoulder. He blinked at the suddenness of the contact before he looked back at the television.
That night, Freya stared hard at her bed, biting her bottom lip. How could she sleep in this? How could she, knowing what she'd done in it earlier today? As she clambered into the sheets, she smelled Donald all over them, freshly washed as they were. It was like he was engrained in them, deep past their fibers.
She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. It never worked.
