CHAPTER TWO — PHILIP
I look at David and then back at Stephanie. There couldn't be a larger contrast.
David looks like a bull who's been incited before a fight. His eyes are wild. His muscles are tense. And at the same time, he's incredibly focused.
Meanwhile, Stephanie looks scared, frazzled, and somehow still beautiful, shivering in her gorgeous dress, arms wrapped around herself.
"Hold on," I say.
I pull off my white T-shirt, then turn to her.
"Hands up," I say.
She raises her hands in the air, and I shimmy it over her head. It's not much, but it's all I have with me. I came in just a T-shirt.
I glance at David. As much as I despise this man, Stephanie's comfort is more important right now.
"Can I have your shirt?" I ask, nodding towards Stephanie.
It takes him a second to realize why I'm asking for the shirt. After a split second, he starts undoing the buttons and hands it over.
I hand it to Stephanie. She pulls on his button-down shirt and then does it up.
I feel like other men in my position wouldn't do that, wouldn't want her wearing another man's shirt.
I'm not jealous, though. I never have been.
I've always been the type to be in open relationships or dating multiple women.
Even now, I don't feel jealous about the fact that Stephanie clearly wants David, despite our sexual chemistry and the fact that I turn her on. I know she wants him. She's admitted as much to me throughout the evening, which I have to say, I deeply appreciate.
I know how hard it can be for women to admit these things. And you know what? I don't blame them. Other men make it quite difficult, asking questions and then sulking when they don't like the answers. I'm glad I've been able to gain Stephanie's trust on that front, though.
I've proven to her that when I ask a question, she can give me an honest answer, and I won't freak out. And the truth is, it's not even that I'm keeping my cool, it's that I actually am okay with her being into David.
I'm seeing multiple women right now, and as beautiful as Stephanie is, and as much as I like her, I never envisioned her and I becoming something serious. I see her as a great friend who's also insanely hot, but that's it.
As her friend, though, I'm concerned about David. She's in love with him. I don't know if she's admitted that to herself yet, but it's clear as day to me. And that means she's not thinking straight. I don't know if she sees how many red flags this man has.
Still, I see the appeal, objectively. He's a good-looking man, older, obviously, but very tall, even a few inches taller than me.
I glance at him. He has a four-pack. He's also jacked.
I'm in good shape myself, but I don't feel great about fighting him.
I don't know who would win, but I think we would both get pretty hurt. That's not what I want right now.
But also, I can't let this jackass get away with intimidating Stephanie like this.
She's told me about him, about his games.
Stephanie and I tried to get under his skin two nights ago by having loud sex underneath him.
She lives in the basement as his tenant.
She told me he didn't react. That is, he said nothing about it until earlier tonight when he punished her for it, which sounded both fucked up and hot, I'll admit.
Hot because it was exactly the type of sexual punishment I would enact with a woman I liked, but fucked up because he didn't exactly clear it with her first. And even more fucked up because he didn't comfort her after.
In fact, he did the opposite. He left in a very cold manner.
He has issues. Besides the fact that fucking his tenant is clearly unethical, he also is clearly emotionally repressed.
From what Stephanie's told me, he hasn't even admitted that he likes her, but he obviously does. If he didn't, he wouldn't be outside right now looking like a pit bull who's about ready to maul me.
I don't want to get in a fight with him, but as Stephanie's friend, I can't let him get away with treating her like this.
I walk up to him.
"Hey, so let's—"
Before I can finish my sentence, the wind is knocked out of me. I can't see straight. For a second, everything is black.
Then my eyes open. A split second later, the pain sets in. I feel blood trickling down my face.
"What the—"
I look at David. His hands are clenched into fists. This motherfucker just punched me.
All rational thought goes out the window. I wind up and, quick as a flash, hit him back. I feel my knuckles hit skin, and then a flare of sharp pain shoots up my wrist.
I step back, and he lunges at me. The next few minutes are a haze of pain, sweat, and skin. I feel my energy being depleted. I feel blood drying on my face.
I look down. Blood is dripping down my bare chest. I look at David. He looks like he's in bad shape too.
He winds up once more, and then a loud voice rings out, stopping both of us in our tracks.
"Get the fuck out of here, both of you, or I'm calling the cops."
Both David and I simultaneously glance to the right. It's the bouncer. And just like that, David drops his arms by his sides. I follow suit.
I look at him. I can't tell if he's angry, sad, or something else. It's a weird look painted across his face. His eyebrows are knit, but his mouth is slightly turned downwards.
I glance at Stephanie. Fuck. I can't believe she had to see all that. I toss my keys at her.
"Go sit in the car. I'll be there in a minute," I say.
I drove her here.
I look at David one last time. Unfortunately, I don't think he's learned his lesson. I know I shouldn't do this, but I can't help it. Someone needs to put him in his place. I take a step towards him.
"Hey," I say. "One more thing."
"Yeah?" he asks, surprised.
I reach into my pockets and grab the pink thong I asked Stephanie to take off earlier. At the time, my intention was just to finger her in the bar like I did. I knew she'd be into it, and I was right.
But about a minute ago, I got a genius idea, an easy way to get under David's skin. Neither of us won the fight, but I can be the one to end it with one move. For some reason, I know this will piss him off more than anything.
"Since she's coming home with me, here's a little consolation prize for you."
I toss the pink material towards him. Surprised, he catches it.
He looks down. It takes him a second to register what's in his hands, but when he does, that same angry look returns. He takes a step towards me, and I turn, and I start to walk backwards, hands in the air.
I notice him glance at the bouncer. For a split second, I can tell he's debating whether to hit me, weighing the risks and rewards. Ultimately, he decides against it.
"You motherfucker," he spits, before turning and walking away.