by Logan Newby
Girls named Nicole tend to be pretty. Most every girl named Nicole I've met has been at least moderately attractive, if not beautiful. So it was really staggering when I was introduced to my second cousin, Nicole, at a Christmas party held by my aunt Caroline. I had never met her before or even seen pictures. She lives in Oregon, I was told. I remember looking at her very strangely as I shook her hand. She was fat and had acne. She also had that brown coffee stain on her teeth that you see every once in a while on people. She was dressed well enough, though, however little that mattered.
She liked sports, she'd said, and her favorite football team of all time was the Broncos. I really hated talking to her. She told me I reminded her of her ex-boyfriend who's now in the Army. For some reason, that was the biggest insult I've ever received. She asked me if I liked the outfit she had on. I told her I did, honestly enough. She smiled and said that her ex-boyfriend picked it out and bought it for her as a birthday present.
At the end of the night, after most everyone had left Aunt Caroline's house, we had sex in my car. And on the way out to my car before we started into it, I asked if she had a nickname, or maybe if Nicole was her middle name that she went by. She didn't answer, she just kind of laughed. I laughed a little bit, too.
The windows started fogging up, and she drew little hearts on them. I wiped them off, but she kept drawing them back on.
About the author:
My name is Logan Newby. I'm twenty years old, and I live in Owensboro, KY. I'm a college student. I have not been previously published. Also, I play in a band called Miss Umbrella. Thanks for being interested.