First Times - Ch. 04 (1.8k words)

"Huh?" I hear you ask. "Why First Times? You haven't updated that story in three years. Nobody wants this. I didn't even remember that the first three chapters are available on Scribblehub."

Well guess what, buddy. I want it. It's been hanging over my head this whole time and now that I've got some momentum going I'm gonna finally finish it off. And once I do? That means I'll have the brainwidth to start a NEW story. And I've got three options in mind, each hornier than the last... and also cute and romantic and snuggly. I love Dom and Eddie, my beautiful angsty eggs, but god, I miss writing cute snuggly fluff. Anyway, it's coming. But first I have to torture poor Vic some more.

With that in mind, major CWs for this chapter: suicide attempt (by car crash), alcoholism, dysphoria, deadnaming. Feel free to give this one a miss, babes.

Some fucking idiot in a giant SUV almost crushed Vic into the side of a bus, so she swore and pegged her empty white claw at its rear windscreen. The driver screeched to a stop and Vic cut right, pedalling hard down a side street.

SUVs were becoming more and more common, grotesquely huge American vehicles plugging up the tight Sydney streets. Vic hated them. But then, who was she to judge something for being grotesquely huge?

Vic fished another white claw out of her bumbag and cracked it open as she weaved between cars. She shouldn't be drinking at work. Definitely not while actively riding. But what did it matter? Worst case scenario, she would slip off her bike and the light rail would run over her head and she would die a gruesome bloody death in front of the QVB. 

By the time she finished her morning deliveries, she was feeling hot and flushed and buzzed. She stopped her bike at the top of Martin Place and rested back on her seat. She was just sitting there, watching an ibis pecking through a bin, when Andrew Cheng stepped out of a revolving door and stopped dead. 

“Oh, shit,” he said, “Vic.”

Vic stared at him, “You don't work here.”

“I'm consulting,” Andrew said, “They loan me out to different companies sometimes. Like, uh, a library book. Guy.”

“Oh,” said Vic. 

Andrew smiled. He looked good, Vic realized. Clean cut and sharp all put together just right. Vic hadn't shaved in a week, her legs or her face, and suddenly the prickly hairs felt like they were red-hot searing her skin.

“Hey,” Andrew said, his voice low with concern, “I just wanted to say–”

“Gotta go,” said Vic, and she took off down the hill. 

Martin Place was all one long sloping plaza, from Sydney Hospital at the top right on down to George Street. It wasn't a steep slope, but that was fine. Vic had strong, muscular legs, and she was ready to burn all the testosterone out of her blood. 

“Vic!” Andrew called out, and Vic pumped her legs hard, whipping his voice away in the rushing wind around her ears.  

It was midday and the plaza was bustling with office workers on their lunch break. Vic slalomed around them, darting between bollards to cross the road. She raced down the hill, picking up speed as she went.

She hadn't seen Andrew in weeks, since their awful third date. She’d never even looked at his message, in the end. If she didn't look then it was her choice not to see him again. 

She dodged a kiosk advertising the fringe festival and crossed another road, weaved between another set of bollards. There was a series of stages on the left side of the plaza and she thundered down them, taking the drops hard, relishing the pain as her seat dug into her thigh. She nearly clipped an old man with a dog, which should’ve earned her the death penalty, and then she was across another road. 

Her breath was hot and shaky in her throat. It was maybe the only effect estrogen ever had on her, making her cry easily, at stupid shit she should be man enough to just deal with. She fought back her tears, fumbling at her bag in case there was another drink in there she forgot about.

There wasn’t, and there was construction in the middle of the plaza that she barely scraped past. The crowd was thicker now, and a man in a blue suit yelled at her as she shot past him.

“Watch it, you bloody...!”

Vic filled in the slurs in her head. The construction zone cleared and she hooked right, across the plaza, sloppy. She had to jump her bike over the corner of the amphitheatre steps so she didn't tumble down to the stage. Her tyres skidded when she landed and she almost cracked her head into the ANZ window, but she righted herself, breathing ragged, tearing between more bollards, a fountain roaring to her left, and there was one more road before the slope levelled out.

A silver SUV pulled out in front of her, giant and gleaming, the driver ignoring his surroundings in typical SUV driver fashion. There was just enough time to dodge around it, if she yanked hard on her handlebars. But her head was buzzing, and she could see her broad, gangly body reflected in the dark windows.

“He thinks you're a freak,” I told her. 

Vic let her hands drop to her sides and slammed into the truck at full speed.

—

“Everyone must think you're so pathetic,” I said, “They're probably laughing out there.”

Vic lolled her head to the side. The nurse had left a trolley by her bed, and she could just make out her warped reflection in the curved steel of the handle. Her face was swollen up one side, her eye already turning black. 

“Or they're pissed off,” I said, “They're stretched thin already, without people seeking attention.”

Her head was so woozy, but Vic could still feel a dull ache in her wrist. She should’ve asked for more painkillers. She should've asked for less. 

“It would've been better if you died,” I pointed out, “But you knew you wouldn't, right? You’re not brave enough for that.”

She tried to twist her wrist, to feel that sickening click of broken bone again. But the cast kept everything in place. 

“When you get out of here,” I said, “You should probably try again.” 

Vic nodded dimly and slipped back into sleep. 

—

“Oh, David,” said Vic’s mum, “What have you done to yourself?” 

Elizabeth was Vic’s ICE, but she was in Bathurst with her boyfriend. So Liz called George, and George called their mother. And now she was here.

“It’s that bloody bike,” Vic's mum pressed, “You on that bike in the middle of the road. That needs to stop.”

Vic stared at her. She stared back, unperturbed, until Vic broke and said the first words she had said to her mother in three years.

“It's my job.”

“Well, quit,” Vic’s mum said firmly, “Move back home. You can be a woman if it's so important to you. But I won't have you being hit by another car.”

The guy driving the SUV would disagree with how she phrased that, but Vic let it go. Her mum held her gaze, fierce and steely eyed.

“I won't quit,” said Vic, “Any of it.”

Her mum sighed and sat back in her chair. After a moment, she asked, “Who was that Chinese boy outside?”

Vic shut her eyes, “A friend.”

Things had been a blur after she hit the car. She slammed her head so hard that everything went cold and grey for a while. But she remembered people screaming, and helping her up, and the horrible, crushing embarrassment when she realised that the nearest hospital was right back up the top of the hill. Andrew met her halfway up Martin Place and stuck to her side until she told the nurse not to let him in with her. At the very least he hadn't tried to bring up their date. 

“Mhm,” her mum pursed her lips, “And friend means…”

Vic tried to tell her that she wasn't dating Andrew, which was true, but she was too pathetic and hopeless to even say it out loud, so instead she just sobbed.

“Oh, David,” her mum sighed, “You were sleeping with him?”

Vic sobbed again, and shook her head.

“But you’re seeing him,” her mother said frostily.

“I d-don’t know,” Vic whimpered, “I was, b-but..” 

She trailed off. Her mother opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable, searching for words.

“Does he know you're…” she gestured vaguely. She didn't say a man, but it was clear.

Vic nodded miserably, “I t-told him first th-thing.”

Her mother sighed again and looked at Vic, wet and pathetic in her hospital bed. 

“And he still wants to be with you,” she said slowly, “I think that means a lot, David.”

Vic was quiet. She slumped in her bed. Her mum looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. 

“I'm sorry, darling, I really have to go. Anne from church group is doing chemo and…” she gestured vaguely again, “Elizabeth will be here in the next hour, okay?”

Vic nodded and her mum stood up. She paused, then leant down and laid a thin hand atop Vic's casted arm, her skin cool and dry against Vic's bruised fingers. 

“Thank you for letting me see you,” she said, “I do love you. So much.”

Vic whispered, “I love you too, mum.”

—

Elizabeth apologised a thousand times when she finally got there, as if she’d done anything wrong. As if it wasn't insane Vic made her drive back from Bathurst for no reason. After everything, it was hard to stomach how sweet she was being. 

“Oh, your face looks fucked, Vic,” Liz said.

Vic shrugged, “I've been telling you.”

Elizabeth insisted on taking her back to her own place in Parramatta, just in case she passed out again. Vic charged her phone in the car and a flurry of messages from Andrew pinged up. This time, she opened them. 

He had been worried for her. There were far too many messages, all from her hospital stay. Far too many updates.

I’m still out front, will be here as long as you need. 

Just getting a drink of water, will be right here if you need anything. 

Filled my water bottle, back out front again. Let me know if you want a drink, I can bring water or run to the shops or anything. 

He did care about her. He knew about her and he still cared. Vic scrolled up to the message she had been ignoring all this time.

I’m really sorry I got so weird tonight. I really enjoyed seeing you and I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. You’re really cool and I find you really attractive, and I would really like to see you again. I think I just got really in my own head because I haven’t been with another man before, and I didn’t want to do something wrong or disrespectful. I really hope you're okay, sorry again and I really want to see you again soon if you're okay with that.

Fuck I said “really” so many times, haha. Sorry. 

“Shit,” Vic murmured.

Elizabeth swerved wildly across the freeway for no reason, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Vic said, “I think so.”

She scrolled back down to the most recent messages.

I think I just talked to your mum. She's coming to talk to you, just a heads up. 

Hey they said your sister picked you up, sorry I missed you. 

Would you want to meet up when you're feeling better? Or I could come over if you need anything?

I have your bike, btw.