Carol's always been my safe haven, my partner in crime, my ride-or-die confidante.
We talked about everything, and I mean everything. My first kiss, my first fuck, all the wild shit I got into—she knew it all, and she’d hit me back with the dirtiest details, no filter. I already knew she was a total slut too, loved that casual dick on the side. Even when she had a boyfriend, sometimes she’d sneak off with some other guy and come running back all hyped to spill every last detail. And me? I fucking loved hearing it.
Back then I hadn’t done any of that stuff yet, so half the time I didn’t even get what she was saying. But she told it so funny I’d just sit there with my eyes wide, dying laughing.
We’d been raised like sisters since we were little. Same street, same school, saw each other every damn day. It was totally normal to sleep over at each other’s houses. We’d crawl into the same bed, share the blanket, the secrets, the laughs, even those angsty teenage meltdowns.
Carol was a year and two months older, and it showed—her body was way more developed than mine. She’d turned into a woman a long time ago. Thick thighs, wide hips, medium tits, round and perky, and a flat stomach that made you jealous as hell. A tall blonde with long straight hair, hot as fuck.
She was dating Murilo—a good-looking twenty-three-year-old, nine years older than her. Carol was always saying the guy was a total sex addict, wanted to fuck nonstop, literally. Didn’t matter the place, the time, or the mood—if he touched her, game over. They’d go at it right there.
She loved it, obviously. Said she got off on fucking him. But she also wanted the other stuff, you know? Real boyfriend shit—like cuddling on the couch watching a movie, all wrapped up, playing with each other’s hair. But Murilo only had one thing on his mind: sex.
And the craziest part? Even with that walking sex hurricane for a boyfriend, Carol was still sneaking around with Adriano—the guy was her brother’s best friend. So she was dating one, fucking the other. And I’m just sitting there thinking, “Hold up… who’s the real sex addict in this story?”
Anyway, I had a hell of a role model.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Hey, diary.
I’m here in Búzios soaking up the long weekend. God, I love this place. This time my parents came, and even my aunt and uncle—Diego and Carol’s folks.
Diego showed up, of course, but he dragged his girlfriend along, that annoying bitch. Same with my brother—he brought his. Carol came with Murilo, but this time he stayed at a guesthouse. And you know what? That worked out great for me. Because at night she was all mine. We’d stay up till dawn glued together in the same bed, swapping secrets and laughing at stupid shit.
10:20 p.m.
Carol had just gotten back from being out with Murilo and went straight to the shower. Meanwhile I was sprawled out on the bed, AC blasting, blanket up to my neck. I was flipping through the cable channels, hoping to find something to fill the existential void of that late night.
That’s when I landed on Telecine: The Notebook.
Holy fuck, I was obsessed with that movie. Knew every line by heart. But there was one scene that always wrecked me—the rain scene.
Noah takes Allie out on the lake in a rowboat, all that sappy romantic shit, until a huge storm hits. They get soaked, and then comes that dialogue that destroyed me, made me cry like a baby:
“Why didn’t you write me? I waited for you for seven years!” Allie says, dripping wet.
“I wrote you 365 letters. Every single day for a year,” Noah answers in that voice that always put a lump in my throat.
And they kiss in the rain, desperate, full of longing.
There I was, lying there all goosebumpy, swallowing back tears. Because in my head, Diego was my Noah. Impossible, forbidden… but mine.
When the couple stumbled into the house, grabbing at each other like they were starving, my heart was already racing. I could barely blink, just sighing under my breath, wishing it was me. Right at that moment Carol elbowed me and laughed:
“If that was Murilo, he’d have her panties off before they even got through the door. Stairs? Fuck that. He’d bend her over and fuck her right there on the living room floor.”
I burst out laughing and blushed at the same time. Carol was talking about Murilo, but all I could think about was her brother.