Chapter 12
ELEVEN
Adam
I reach uselessly for a dick that’s not there for the hundredth time since Jen left the flat. I have never, never been this worked up. This horny with no relief in sight.
Maybe it’s because I can’t play with myself. I’d say I have a healthy appetite for sex. I think about it a fair bit but knowing I can’t jerk off makes me think about it almost constantly. It’s like I’m permanently on edge.
I can’t concentrate on anything. I try loading a game on my phone, but that doesn’t last. I try watching porn, but that makes it worse. I watch a movie, but I only get ten minutes through.
In the end I get up and sort through the closet in the hall and refold all the towels just to keep my hands busy.
They all smell like Jen. Like that laundry detergent she likes. I’d forgotten how much I like that smell. I always buy the unscented one, but the laundry never comes out smelling good like it did when she used to do it.
I guess she probably resented doing it all for me. It became obvious after we broke up how many things she did around the house without me noticing. I mean, I knew in a way she was doing them; she was just so efficient I never saw her do it.
One minute I’d be looking for a clean pair of socks, the next she’d be bitching at me to put away the laundry she already folded.
Looking back, I can see how that might have rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe that means I’ve changed. At least I’d like to think I have, but she still seems to be just as angry with me.
I’m hoovering the carpet in the living room when another thought strikes me.
She didn’t like my gift, but not because she didn’t like the dildo.
I mean, she chose it. The problem was it wasn’t much of a gift, since all I did was click a button.
It didn’t cost me anything. And it was pretty selfish because I wanted something from getting it for her.
If I actually wanted to make her smile, what I should have done was give her something just for her. Something that cost me time or money or both.
Annoyed with myself for not seeing it sooner, I rack my brains for something like that—something that will make her forgive me.
The video from the lingerie store was a good sign, but she still hasn’t come home.
I’m pretty sure her shift has started since she stopped replying to my messages. Unless she’s still really mad…
God, I don’t know what to think. Only that I should have appreciated her a fuck ton more than I did when we were dating.
I should probably be grateful she’s stopped tormenting me since she’s still holding my dick hostage, but I wasn’t ready for her to stop. In fact, I’d happily let her have my dick all day if she would keep sending me videos of her touching herself in public.
Fuck, that was hot.
The way she had to cover her mouth to hold in that little sigh of satisfaction as she came? I think I nearly died a second time just watching that.
I’m sorting the spice drawer in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I jump up, stupidly excited only to realize Jen wouldn’t ring her own doorbell. She would just unlock the door and come in.
When I open it, I recognize Jen’s best friend, Molly, instantly.
Her high arched brows are perfectly plucked and always made me feel like she was looking down her long nose at me, even though she’s a lot shorter than my six two.
Her voluminous red hair kind of makes up for that in a weird way.
She’s dressed just as flamboyantly as usual, in a dress with a flared old-fashioned skirt and black pumps that look like a broken ankle waiting to happen.
I obviously recognize her before she realizes it’s me, though, because as soon as I open the door, I’m hit with a frantic burst of speech.
“Oh, Jen, thank god you’re home. I wasn’t sure because you didn’t answer your—” Her blue eyes skate up to my face, and her eyebrows furrow.
“Oh shit, Adam. I forgot you were here. Can you just get Jen?” She leans to one side, looking past me as if Jen might suddenly appear.
Nothing odd about that. But I don’t like the hurried glance she casts over her shoulder the next second.
“Jen’s at work,” I say, searching her face. Now that I’m really looking, I can see black marks on her cheeks where her mascara has smudged. “Molly, is everything alright?”
She blinks, and it really looks for a moment as if she’s blinking back tears.
When she speaks again her voice is unsteady.
“Oh. Right. Of course she’s at work.” She looks away and rubs at her face for a moment, but when she looks up again there’s a forced smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll see her tomorrow.”
I expect her to leave, but she lingers outside the flat, and something like an alarm starts bleeping in the back of my mind. “Hey, Molly, are you sure? You don’t look like everything is alright.”
Her lip trembles. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just…” She has to pause and swallow hard. “I was just walking to the subway, and I thought for a moment… Well, I thought someone was following me.” She makes a waving gesture as if to dismiss the idea. “But that’s stupid.”
I frown. “Did you see anyone?” I check the time. It’s late, but not so late the streets would be unsafe. In fact, Jen’s neighborhood is pretty safe. “Do you want to come in for a while?”
She hesitates. “No. I should go. It’s fine. I was probably imagining it.”
From what I remember of Molly, she isn’t the type to get flighty over nothing. I shake my head. “I doubt that. Come on. Come in.” I stand back, holding the door open and giving her a jerk of my head to support my words.
Molly’s hurried steps tell me everything I need to know about whether or not she really saw something on the street. As she passes me, I step outside the flat onto the landing and glance around, but I can’t see anyone. I close the door firmly behind us and follow Molly into the living room.
She sits on the sofa and presses her flattened hands between her thighs, tucking herself into a small shape.
I don’t like this one bit. “Jen’s not answering you either?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. Her skin looks paler than usual, making her red hair stand out dramatically against her neck and shoulders, which are bared by the off-the-shoulder black dress she’s wearing. My gaze skates down to a small tear in the fabric.
Rather than ask about it, though, I turn toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Or do you want hot chocolate?”
“Tea.” Her voice is squeaky, and she has to stop to clear her throat. “Tea please.”
The kettle boils, filling the flat with sound for a moment while I think. Molly and I were never the best of friends even when I was dating Jen. I’m fairly sure she thought Jen could do better.
Come to think of it, she was probably right.
In any case, l don’t really fancy a whole evening talking to Molly. But I don’t like how scared she seems, and I know she means the world to Jen.
I make the tea and bring the steaming mug over to set it on the coffee table by the sofa. Then I perch on the edge of the table rather than sitting beside her. “Listen, stay as long as you like. I know Jen would want you to. I’ll keep out of your hair. But I’m here if you want to talk.”
I expect her to blow me off with a sneer or a snarky comment.
Instead her face kind of crumbles, and she lifts the hem of her skirt to twist in her fingers.
“I think I made a really big mistake.” The next few sentences are half sobbed, and it’s hard to make them out, but from what I pick up, Molly describes a guy she’d been on a few dates with.
Apparently things seemed great at first, but the more she saw him, the more red flags she started to see.
Molly describes him asking about her plans on nights they weren’t seeing each other and calling her at all hours of the night. The worst was when she mentioned she had a date with someone else.
“We’d never had the conversation about being exclusive, you know?”
I nod. I can sympathize. I’ve had more than a few girls latch on and assume we were a couple when we’d had one single date.
Molly sniffs. “But he was real angry. He threw my phone against the wall. Told me I belong to him now.”
“The fuck?”
She nods. “I told him never to call me again, of course, but as soon as I replaced the phone, he was calling and messaging all the time. I blocked his number, but I forgot I told him where I was meeting Matt tonight…” She trails off, and the pieces fall into place.
My eyes widen. “He followed you there?”
“Yeah. Confronted me in the bathrooms.” She points to the tear on her dress. “Did this.”
I scowl. “Motherfucker.” What kind of a prick gets off on intimidating women like that?
“Yeah. I just got scared he followed me after the date. I don’t even know what happened to Matt, my date. When I came out of the bathroom, he wasn’t there.”
I twist my lips into a grimace while I think. “Does he know where you live?”
She nods.
Not good. “Does he have a key?”
“No. Well I didn’t give him one, but mine went missing for a while and I kinda thought—”
“Definitely don’t go home alone, then. Did you call the cops?”
“I tried, but they just brushed me off. Said call if he shows up.”
I shake my head. Then I slap my hands down over my thighs and stand. “Right. Come on. We’re not waiting around for their help, then.”
“What are you going to do?”
I ball my hand into a fist and slap it into my other palm. “I’m going to go sort the fucker out myself. That’s what.”
Molly’s mouth drops open, but she sets aside her tea, and a moment later she stands as well.
There’s a sinister smile on her face. “Will he die if you bite him now? Because I have to tell you, that might not be such a bad thing.” Then she frowns.
“Wait. Scratch that. No one needs another asshole ex undead and hanging around like a bad smell.”
“Wow. Really?”
She shrugs. “Sorry. I guess maybe you’re not as much of an asshole as I thought.”
I’m still a bit stung about the bad smell thing, but where I once would have taken Molly’s harsh words as her being a bitch, now I can see there might be some truth to her unflattering assessments of me.
I guess I did make a bit of a shitty boyfriend. Well, even if that’s true, I refuse to be an asshole ex much longer.