Hey people! For those of you who have stuck with me through the first several chapters, I deeply appreciate it, and I'm wildly surprised and very flattered. For those of you who are opening this for the first time...this absolutely does not stand alone. That said, this chapter has themes of adultery, obviously, and is less with the hot sex and more with the hot mess. Stick with me for chapter 6, in which I will totally make it up to you.
____________________________________________________________________________
It seems so innocent at first glance. Just a little blue box, no big deal. It's small, really.
How can something so small be so life changing?
It's taken me six months of putting away money from each check to be able to afford this. And now that I have it, I don't know how to feel about it.
Rob, who is shirtless, showing off his rock solid abs and über pecs, strolls into the kitchen where I'm seated with my elbows on my knees, hands clasped. His blue cargo sweats are hanging low on his hips, and he's wearing a do-rag, no doubt perfecting his waves for his next unsuspecting victim. I study him. Is this hot? Am I on dick now?
I watch him crack an egg on the skillet and squint. He's a good looking guy, strong and low key. We've been friends since third grade.
"If you want to see my dick, you can just ask," he announces, flips his egg, and raises a brow. I laugh.
"Good night?" I tease. This morning I greeted this white dude that looked like he spent a lot of time describing microbrews in detail and using the words "swag" and "merch".
"His mom was better," Rob shrugs and grins.
"This fuckin' guy," I laugh, but it's humorless. I slump back in my seat and sigh miserably. I can't tell if it's better or worse that I'm not attracted to Rob. He glances back at me.
"What's wrong with you? Is that what I think it is?" He nods at the box.
"Yeah."
"So, what's with the attitude? Isn't that what you wanted?" He plates his egg and cuts an avocado in half.
"Yes?" I rip my fingers through my hair frustrated. "No? I mean, yes obviously."
He grins at me and sits down, "Let's see it."
I open the box and we stare at the ring. He lets out a low whistle.
"One third carat marquise cut diamond with pavé inlay-something-something in white gold," I sigh.
"Damn," he takes a bite of his egg and avocado concoction. "Something wrong with it?"
"No," I furrow my brow. "Why?"
"Because you look fucking miserable," he says over a forkful.
I sigh and scrub my hands down my face.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with Asa's sleepover last week, would it?"
My attention snaps to him suddenly, which is my first mistake. "What?" Mistake number two.
"When you was movin' all that shit for your moms? Asa's truck filled with furniture was still in the lot at 5:30 in the morning," he takes a smug bite. He sips on his green smoothie filled with virgin blood and whey and whatever the fuck body builders have for breakfast.
I feel like an idiot.
"I..." I stammer and my mouth goes dry. Three strikes, I'm out. Rob sets his fork down, pushes his plate away, and clasps his hands together.
"No!" I blurt. It's too late though, Rob has known me too long. I close my eyes. I can feel my cheeks burn. I try to ready myself for all the shit talk headed my way.
"I don't think I have ever seen you like this, man," I open my eyes in confusion, expecting to find amusement in his but instead I find concern. "It's been a long time since you surprised me. When did it all start?"
I clear my throat. "It's not anything."
He raises his eyebrows and sits back in his chair, returning to his food. He does not appear to believe me for some reason.
"Nothin' don't look like that," he responds apologetically, like he's the one breaking the news to me.
I ignore him.
I've been avoiding Asa. Skipping his calls, leaving him on read. He's noticed and he's stopped texting. I hate it. But I can't deal.
Even though it got me a reaming from Tara, I didn't show up to family dinner this weekend because I can't trust myself to see him. I faked a headache and I guess I looked miserable enough because she spent the night stroking my hair and rubbing my back and just generally doting on me.
It was nice. But it was somehow foreign.
I do miss her. I hadn't seen very much of her lately, and curling up to her soft body, plush, and sweet smelling, soothed my frayed nerves. But as I laid wrapped up watching movies with the woman I claim to love, allowing her to cover me with kisses and caresses, I couldn't stop thinking of waking up next to Asa. And it made me feel like a piece of shit. I still feel like a piece of shit. I am a piece of shit.
He's all I think about though, even now, staring at the ring I bought to propose to Tara. I think about how different he looks when he sleeps, curled up tight against me. His face looks younger somehow, revealing the boy-next-door that I know lives inside him. I think about how long I laid beside him, brushing his hair out of his face. Tracing his features, his ears, his eyebrows, his nose only to realize he was awake because he kissed my palm.
I remember how his hand reached up to cradle mine and he kissed my palm again and then my wrist, and my whole arm down to the soft flesh of my inner elbow. I held my breath. I always hold my breath. I remember that he then pulled my arm around his neck and pressed his body against mine.
I had him then. I rolled him over and had him slowly in bed, and then again in the shower. He didn't leave until lunchtime, under the guise that I needed to wash his clothes, and while we waited for the laundry, on this very kitchen table, he had me.
I think back to that night when I'm bed with Tara in order to get off. Our sex life has eroded to almost nothing.
I remember not being able to leave his mouth alone, making it almost impossible for us to leave my house. I remember him laughing into my mouth, asking, "Again?" when he felt my erection press into him by the door.
"And again and again," I remember saying, prompting him to capture my mouth with his. I remember being lost in him.
I remember being so late for work and Frank being so pissed but I could still taste him on my lips and that alone made my heart thump so hard I couldn't hear a word Frank was saying. I remember Frank saying, "What the fuck are you smiling about, asshole?"
I remember his texts throughout the day. Funny, thoughtful, sexy. He had sent two selfies, one of his cock, and one of his scrunched up face, the classroom behind him. I remember spending more time looking at his face. My face hurt from smiling.
However, I also remember getting the text from Mom thanking me for moving the furniture, and I also remember how proud she said she was of me for not pushing Asa away from Veronica. How much I've changed. How happy Veronica is.
I remember the heat from the shame clogging my throat making it impossible to breathe and I remember the way I couldn't stop tears, of all fucking things, from blurring the ride home. I cannot remember the last time I cried.
I remember ripping the sheets that smelled of him, of us, off my bed and washing them in scalding hot water, those stupid fucking tears burning my face.
I can feel right them now, threatening, looming. Itching the corners of my eyes.
Rob's looking at me, and I blink the haze of memory away and clear my throat.
"Damn, Jon," Rob murmurs. "I didn't know it was this bad."
"I don't know what to do," I whisper, and I feel the anxiety clawing up my chest.
The key shifts in the lock and I swipe the ring box off the table and tuck it in my hoodie pocket.
Tara, the only person who has a key to our apartment, cheerfully enters with some bags of groceries. I have the cold realization that at any point, as unlikely as it would have been, Tara could have found Asa and I. I feel worse.
