Gorilla Hands
I take off my shirt and then carefully fold it before setting it down neatly on the edge of my dresser.
After taking a couple of quick breaths to get my adrenaline flowing, I sit down on the edge of my weight bench, mentally primed and ready to get in a good workout. But just as I get myself in position underneath the bar, the door to my room comes flying open and Monique comes barging in.
“What’s up, loser?” cackles Monique.
Ever since she and her dad moved into the house a little over a year ago, she has never once knocked before coming into a room. I quickly learned to keep the bathroom door locked, but there’s just something about locking myself in my own room that makes my skin crawl. Why should I have to be a prisoner just because she was raised by wolves and doesn’t know how to behave like a civilized person?
“What do you want, Monique?” I say with a little sigh.
“Sorry if I interrupted your jerk-off session,” says Monique with a lewd chuckle.
“You didn’t... never mind,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, if it’s about my music, I already talked to Mom and she said...”
“Nah, I’m not here for that,” says Monique, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of my bed, causing the blanket to pull down a little and ruin the esthetic. “I’m here because I need your gorilla hands.”
“Huh?” I say, trying to ignore how wrinkled the blanket looks now because I know if I say anything, she’ll just make fun of me.
“You know my boyfriend Josh, right?” says Monique, crossing one leg over the other.
Of course I know Josh, and of course she knows that I know who he is. He’s the star quarterback on the varsity team. I’ve got a tryout next week for the junior varsity squad, and one good word from him to the coach would mean everything. Not that he knows that I exist or anything. He’s the most popular guy in school, and I’m just his girlfriend’s little stepbrother.
“Yeah...” I say, inwardly wishing she’d just get right to the point so I could get my workout in while the protein powder I consumed earlier is at maximum potency.
“Well, he, um... let’s just say we had a parting of the ways,” says Monique with a barking laugh.
“Oh,” I say, not really sure what she means or why she’s even telling me about this.
Not only is Monique older than me, but she’s a charter member of the social stratosphere in school that might as well exist in an alternative universe than the level where I’m at. All I really know about her and her friends is that they come blazing down the hallway in a whirl of expensive perfume, loud gossip, and cool clothes.
Sometimes, when people find out I’m technically related to her, they’re foolish enough to ask me for her phone number or how they can send her a DM. What they don’t know is that she thinks everyone who isn’t in her circle is a straight-up loser.
“He caught me liking this college guy’s photos on Instagram,” says Monique with a sigh. “I tried to tell him that it was Brittany’s cousin and that he used to babysit me when I was, like, 9 years old, but he just didn’t listen. Ugh, so dumb, you know?”
“I guess,” I say.
If there is any benefit at all to being amongst the “invisible” folks at the bottom end of the social ladder, it’s that we get to avoid all the drama. I’m not saying I like everyone who sits at my table during lunch, but we’ve never once had anyone burst into tears or get into heated arguments over what someone was wearing or who said what to whom.
“And yeah, I mean, he is pretty hot,” says Monique with a giggle. “But so what? That shit doesn’t mean anything. It was just a dumb swim team photo anyway. But Josh got all sulky and now, like, he’s refusing to answer my calls, and he’s leaving all my messages unread.”
“Sorry, uh, to hear that,” I say.
“Yeah, so like, the word going around is that, like, he broke up with me. And I just can’t have that. Do you know what I mean?” says Monique, giving me an intense look.
“No, not really,” I say, starting to get a bit irritated that she’s preventing me from getting in my workout when my levels are all at maximum.
“Oh right, I forgot you’re an incel,” says Monique with a barking laugh. “You and one of your dweeb friends are probably gonna shoot up the school one of these days, right?”
“Hey!” I say, my skin flush with heat.
If there’s one term that I loathe, it’s 'incel.' First of all, there are plenty of people who choose not to be in a romantic relationship with people. My buddy Breen is like that. According to him, it’s called being an “ace,” which sounds pretty badass in my book.
As for the rest of us, this endless chasing after a girlfriend makes you look pretty desperate, as far as I’m concerned. I mean, treating human beings like statistics and arguing over how many times you’ve kissed someone or had sex is messed up. Attraction should be natural, and putting all this pressure on people when they're young makes everything weird and difficult.
“But for someone like me, a top ten hottie, getting dumped is unacceptable,” says Monique, uncrossing her legs and giving me a quick and uncomfortable glimpse of her camel toe poking through the thin fabric of her leggings.
That’s another thing that always irks me about Monique and her friends. Somewhere along the way, it suddenly became cool for girls to wear workout clothes all the time, prancing around in skin-tight leggings and revealing sports bras or crop tops. Honestly, I don’t see how such outfits are permitted, especially when I know darn well some of them have never seen the inside of a gym, including Monique, although she is mysteriously rather fit.
“Uh-huh,” I say, tugging down my shorts leg as I mentally will my cock to stop acting up and just lie still.
“I already heard Kennedi and Kianna talking about Josh maybe taking some girl from Westvale to the Harvest Dance, and I know that shit isn’t going to happen because Josh hates Westvale,” says Monique. “But the point is, everyone thinks we’re broken up.”
“Right...” I say.
“And that cannot happen, do you understand?” says Monique, jumping to her feet and pacing around. “I mean, if he wants to play these stupid games, then fine. But I’m going to be the one who breaks up with him. Hell, I’ll do it right in the middle of a school assembly. I don’t care. But I’m not gonna have my reputation dragged into the mud because he can’t control his jealousy!”
