On Sunday night, Dylan traces a finger along the tattoo on my left shoulder, leans forward, and kisses it softly.
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On Monday morning, he tells me that this girl he’s been casually seeing asked to be exclusive.
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I cover my tattoo.
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On Monday night, a man I meet outside a bar rolls me over in his bed. His glasses disguise a handsome face, and baggy clothes cover up the fitness he prioritizes. I ask him if we can move slowly, he asks me if I want to make love. I laugh until it would be rude to keep laughing and tell him no.
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On Tuesday morning, Dylan tells me his girlfriend finds my presence uncomfortable and maybe we should take some time apart as friends.
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On Tuesday night, a nineteen-year-old bartender with the eyes of a thirteen-year-old boy takes me home, watches me come undone, and laughs. I’m so good at this. He says to himself and then applauds. I get dressed in the hallway.
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I see Dylan’s girlfriend added me on Snapchat. Hello, Claire.
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On Wednesday morning, Dylan tells me I look beautiful. You should wear red more often. He says.
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On Wednesday night, I meet someone in a coffee shop, and we go back to my place together. It occurs to me I feel content lying with him beside me. Then he looks at me through his shaggy hair and asks if I’m about to tell him I love him. I ask him why he would think that. It would be cute. He responds.
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I buy a red shirt from Target for four dollars and fifty cents.
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On Thursday morning, Dylan asks if we can get coffee but cancels when his girlfriend catches the flu.
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On Thursday evening, I meet a man with red and blue tattoos along his arms and One Direction hair, outside the same old bar. We have sex three times and fall asleep in his bed until noon the next day. You were a horny little bunny last night, weren’t you? He asks cheekily. I shut my eyes and pretend they’re my ears.
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I make coffee at home.
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On Friday morning, Dylan invites me out with him and Claire. She wants to meet his best friend in person.
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On Friday night, I meet a man with a man bun who end his sentences with – peace and love. He buys me shots while Dylan and Claire make out in the back of the club, and we wind up in the bathroom together, fucking against the door. He asks if I’ll get on my knees, he wants to feel like I’m praying to him. I glance at the gum littered floor, zip up my dress and order an Uber.
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Dylan and Claire can’t find me, so they go home together. Dylan sends me a message – I hope you have fun. Winky face.
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On Saturday morning, I stay in my room and Dylan doesn’t notice.
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On Saturday night, I meet a man on Tinder and he buys me two glasses of wine. He leaves first, and I go home with the French bartender with a mustache and whispered accent. He asks. If he can choke me because it makes him feel closer to God.
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I take a cab back to Dylan’s house at three in the morning and sleep on his couch. He calls me champ for avoiding the dreaded sleepover.
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On Sunday morning, Dylan makes us coffee and tells me that he and Claire are having problems. I’m not happy anymore. He tells me. But he still loves her.
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On Sunday night, I meet up with Tinder guy and he tells me his sister’s name is Claire. I excuse myself from the table and blow the busboy in the bathroom. He holds my hair and tells me that I’m beautiful.
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I pay the bill and walk with Tinder guy back to my apartment. We say goodnight at the door.
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On Monday morning, Dylan tells me that Claire might break up with him because he spends too much time with me. He’s not sure if he minds.
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On Monday night, Dylan and I spend the night watching French movies with subtitles, and he whispers the words to me during his favorite scenes. I pretend not to care how he sounds when French rolls off his tongue the way it does.
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I walk home at four in the morning, smiling like the night meant more than it did.
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On Tuesday morning, Dylan tells me he and Claire have patched things up, and he couldn’t be happier.
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On Tuesday night, I meet up with a guy named Mark for a drink or seven. We talk about his ex-girlfriend, and he’s pretty sure she left him for a guy named Dylan. A guy with a nineties sports coat and goatee slips me his number on his way out. Mark walks me home, apologizing for talking about his ex-girlfriend so much. We kiss on my doorstep and say goodnight while I text Goatee to meet me at my place in fifteen minutes.
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I can’t help but wonder how Claire fucks Dylan on rainy nights like tonight.
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On Wednesday morning, Tinder guy and I meet up for breakfast, and I ignore all of Dylan’s texts about afternoon coffee. We walk into a Petco and play with the puppies along the wall. He has to leave early to finish up some university work, so I leave with the cashier when his shift ends, and we end up at his place, on a futon by the kitchen. My roommate’s not home so we can get real wild, baby. He whispers. I strip silently and cringe when he screams. Yes! at first sight of my breasts.
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On Wednesday night, Claire breaks up with Dylan because she’s not over her ex and needs time for closure. I text Tinder guy while Dylan chugs beer after beer on my living room couch. He doesn’t respond.
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I get a call from Mark while I’m cleaning up the pile of beer cans on my living room floor, Dylan snoring behind me. He didn’t get back together with his ex but they did have sex.
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On Thursday morning, I go to Mark’s apartment and he tells me that he wants to be with me and only me. He likes that I didn’t sleep with him on the first date – apparently, that’s class. I blow him in his first-floor bathroom and think about how classy I feel.
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On Thursday night, Dylan wants to come over and watch French films, but I stay with Mark and we talk about our childhoods and why they did or didn’t suck so much. Dylan sends me message after message and I pretend that ignoring them is easy.
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On Friday morning, I check my new messages from Dylan. He’s fine – Claire took him back.
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On Friday night, Mark and I almost sleep together when I tell him I want to take things slow. I go home. My neighbor, who only listens to vinyl and wears ironic t-shirts, stops by to request I lower my music. We fuck in my shower. Lying in a towel on my bed, he tells me he likes my music and just wanted to see if I’d fuck him the way he thought I would if he came over. I steal his clothes and lock him out of the apartment.
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I apologize to Dylan for ignoring his messages and he kisses my forehead. It’s okay, babe. He says. No babe, it’s really not.
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On Saturday morning, I drop by Mark’s and surprise him with pancakes and sex. After foreplay, he apologizes for not cutting his nails. It’s okay. I lie and start to bleed. I don’t know how to tell him we can’t touch so I don’t, and I let him fuck me until he’s done and I’m empty and nothing is the way it should be.
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On Saturday night, Dylan breaks up with Claire because he’s tired of coming in second to some guy named Mark.
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Mark changes his mind. He thinks he’d like to be with Claire too.
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On Sunday morning, Dylan traces a finger along the tattoo on my left shoulder, leans forward, and kisses it softly.
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On Sunday night, Dylan meets a girl named Lola.
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I cover my tattoo.
ALEXIA SERETI is a student at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, I have been studying and practicing Creative Writing for a little over three years. I am currently taking an essay workshop with John D’Agata and working on a creative honor’s project with Geoffrey Babbitt, both wonderful writers, and teachers. These courses, amongst others, have given me the ability to work on my writing with tremendous guidance, particularly in regards to the essay. Born and raised in New York City, living as a student in Geneva, NY, and having spent a semester abroad in Norwich, England, my writing has been generously shaped and influenced by the places I’ve been and the people I’ve met along the way.
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