Chapter 8 How Much Embarrassment Does it Take to Kill Someone?
T he next morning, I stayed in bed way longer than was normal for me.
It was the weekend which meant that both Ethan and Monica were home for the first part of the day.
Monica would probably leave to do some work later on in the day, but as of a few minutes ago, I’d heard both of their soft mumblings as they walked around the house.
I couldn’t go out there. I just couldn’t.
Last night, I’d hit the jackpot of low moments. In an attempt to better myself and my new job skills, I’d instead found myself tipsy and turned on with the last person on Earth I should be.
Ethan touched me and then cursed me with his illicit words and unintentional sensuality.
I was cursed with the knowledge that I’d been turned on by him last night, and that wasn’t something I could forget.
Sure, I could chock most of it up to the alcohol and the fact that I hadn’t had sex in five months, but there was that undeniable notion of what was obvious from the moment I first saw him that night in the kitchen.
He was gorgeous, and if I met him in any other capacity, I’d be completely, one-hundred percent openly attracted to him.
That’s a tricky thing to be aware of with your current almost brother-in-law.
It wasn’t like there was any way he knew he’d accidentally turned me on, so the embarrassment was more personal than anything. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look Ethan in the eyes again without wanting to crawl out of my skin and slink away.
The facts were that my body was not my own last night.
It belonged to tequila, gin, and whatever other combination of alcohol conducted my inappropriate impulses of thought.
Me—Alice—was not turned on by Ethan’s sensual words and touch last night.
My body—a complete stranger to myself when inebriated—was the culprit.
Maybe if I focused on that instead of the memories from last night that faded in between each scandalous thought, I could get through today.
One fact remained true to this very moment, though.
And that was that I was still painfully turned on.
Like Ethan and Monica, I also had the entire morning and early afternoon off, and there was no way I’d be able to get through all of today without dry humping the next viable man I saw if I didn’t take care of that feeling ASAP.
Turning my gaze to my nightstand next to my bed, I reached out to the top drawer. Thank God I’d invested in a vibrator when Jonah and I were together or else I never would have orgasmed in the last five years thanks to his TDS.
Tiny Dick Syndrome.
Pulling up some videos on my phone, I needed only to watch the people on my screen for a couple minutes before feeling a familiar pressure tighten my lower stomach. I pushed my hand beneath the covers, a sigh pulling from my lips at finally getting some friction where I’d needed since last night.
My head tossed back into the pillow as sensations almost too powerful sparked between my legs, but I forced myself to keep my hand where it was no matter how intense the sensations became.
My eyes fell closed without any forethought as I cut in pictures of myself where the female actors in the videos were.
I pictured myself in those positions, my breathing turning heavier and audible as the ache at my core grew.
I imagined firm hands holding my waist down, his body covering mine as his mouth kissed lines across my chest, tweaking my nipples between his teeth. A mewl of a moan slipped from my lips as my fingers acted as I imagined his teeth would, pinching my sensitive nipples in his bite.
The sensations were building, topping nerves on top of nerves and gearing up for the release that I could feel was seconds away.
Nearly at the same time my orgasm began to crest, the pitch of the buzzing coming from beneath my covers lowered as did the level of growing pleasure. I pressed the vibrator harder against me, desperation shooting through my veins to reach that climax that I so badly needed now.
My eyes squeezed shut as I pulled all of my focus on the feeling that was quickly dwindling between my legs as the sound of dying batteries plagued my bedroom.
“No, no, no no,” I squeaked out, the pleasurable ache becoming a burning of unquenchable desire and a cruel, painful taunt. The low rumble of batteries sputtering with their last charge of juice mocked me, and in seconds flat, the vibrating stopped altogether.
“Oh my God.” Rolling over and planting my face into the divots of my pillow, I screamed the most frustrated scream that may have ever been introduced into the world until that moment.
A short knock coming from my door stunted my muffled scream.
The muscles in my neck strained as I shot my head up, holding it toward my closed bedroom door. Ragged breaths drew in and out of my lungs as I scrambled out of bed, noting as the pressure in my core only worsened as I stood up.
Fixing my P.J’s up, I grabbed the knob on the door and threw it open before I thought to catch my breath.
Oh no.
Ethan leaned just so against the frame of my door, his stature taking up nearly the whole freaking doorway. He eyed me with a suspicion edging around his irises. “Why’re you so out of breath?”
Because I just experienced a colossal failure to pleasure myself that will now haunt me until I can buy more batteries.
“Morning workout.”
He didn’t outright say it, but the dubious look in his eyes did the job for him. Standing in front of him now with the biggest lady boner in the world, my mind flashed back to last night before I could scold it not to.
I could still feel his hands around my waist, burning the betrayal of my desire through to my blood.
His grip was so… assertive. Everything about Ethan was manly .
He was big and broad and powerful and could easily have his way with any woman.
Even the shirt he was wearing this morning proved just that in how it stretched across his chest, wrapping tightly around his arms and showing off the muscles I knew were there.
They were kind of hard to miss.
“Is there something you want?” I asked, doing my best to trick my mind in any other direction that wasn’t checking out Monica’s fiancé .
“Yeah.” He remained propped up against my doorframe, but crossed his arms over one another and further emphasized the bulges in his arms. Oh, come on . “I’m headed to the store for a few things and wanted to see if there was anything I could pick up for you?”
“Oh uh…” That was nice of him to offer . “Not that I can think of off the top of my head?”
“You sure?” Ethan locked his eyes on mine in a way that was almost too focused.
The look made me squirm in place even more than the pain between my legs did.
“I could pick up milk or coffee or…” My eyes dropped from his for the faintest of seconds as the most sinister of smirks played on his lips just before he spoke. “Batteries?”
Three syllables. One word. Zero breaths left to be found.
My eyes must have been as big with shock as they felt as Ethan failed to hide the amusement lighting up his eyes as all of the blood drained from my face, through my rolling stomach until it reached my feet.
I couldn’t move, literally couldn’t get my brain to tell my heavy feet to back up and slam the door in his face.
He knew what I was doing. He heard what was clearly a very private moment through what were apparently paper thin walls.
Mortified beyond the point of speaking, I rushed to shut my door, knocking it into my foot along the way to close it. Tumbling foot over foot, I finally managed to get the door shut and cut off Ethan’s wildly entertained face from my view.
Holding both hands pressed against the door, a set of bold knocks vibrated through my fingertips.
“Alice?” His voice, though muffled through the wood separating us, sounded as smooth as the door beneath my finger tips.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even breathe too loudly, afraid that he might hear that too. No, instead of answering him with words, I answered him with crystal clear actions when I reached my fingers down and switched the door’s lock in place.
After a few seconds came the heavy footfall of his steps distancing from my room, and with each step he took away from me, the weight of my humiliation lessened. Releasing the breath that I’d been holding since he said the word batteries, I slumped the rest of my body up against the door.
“I just need to get laid,” I whined to myself.
Suddenly, the sound of vibrating filled my room again that I knew could only be coming from my phone. My back stole away from the door and the single most mortifying event of my life to date as I sulked over to my phone on my bed.
An excited gasp sucked between my teeth as I registered the name and the handsome face lighting up my phone screen.
“Oh my god. I love you, Hi,” I greeted him in a rush.
Gabe’s award-winning laughter met my ears from the other end of the phone. “I miss you, too, babe.”
“If you miss me so much, why don’t you just leave your whole life and all of your worldly possessions behind and come live with me? We’d both be so much happier.”
“As tempting as that sounds with all of the bullshit going on around here lately, you know I’d die not living in New York. New York is every gay’s best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
“Second best. Nothing beats New York’s welcoming arms and toxic stench.” He paused for a hair of a second over the phone, and I found myself smiling waiting to hear his voice again. “But you’re a very close second.”
I sighed rather dramatically into the phone. “Fine. I guess second best will have to do for now.”
“So,” I continued. “To what do I owe this over-a-week-late call to?”
“Hey,” Gabe scolded from the other end. “You know phones are a two-way street, and we talked about this before you left!”
“Yeah, but I’m busy with moving and getting a whole new life together here.”
“And I’m busy trying to not kill your ex and his homewrecker of a girlfriend. We’re both doing very important things in life.”
“How is that by the way?” Perfect segue into Jonah. I never liked to outright ask Gabe about Jonah and Hannah gossip, because I never wanted to admit that I cared what they did. But I did. I cared very much even against my best attempts not to.
A strangely long silence hung between us, and my stomach knotted together in a familiar panic.
“That’s actually the reason I called,” Gabe admitted, his tone tied up with tension.
“What happened?”
A loud, winded noise came through the phone as Gabe sighed into it. “They’re entering a piece into the competition in December.”
I sat up onto my elbows, sinking into the mattress. “ Our competition?”
“The very same one.”
“In my new city?”
“I know. They’re such little shits. They’re ‘ representing ’ the studio now.”
“Wait—” I sat up completely in bed as a thought hit. “Registration for the competition in Chicago ended like… four months ago.”
Gabe was silent for several seconds after I voiced my thought.
His silence helped usher in the only realization that was left and slowly, I laid myself back down on the bed. My mind tried to work out other excuses or logical reasonings for the timing, but in the end of my brain’s denial, there was only one possible fact left.
They’d registered for the competition together before he and I had even broken up.
Jonah and I had only been broken up for three and a half months, and registration closed weeks before that. Just how long had they been planning this whole thing together? How long did Jonah know he was going to leave me while he was still with me, pretending to love me?
“Babe?” Gabe’s voice sunk through my ear and into my head, burrowing its way past my pathetic defenses. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, a stray tear sliding down the side of my face.
“I love you, and he’s an asshole.”
“I know.” The tips of my fingers gathered up the betraying tears as they rolled over my temples on both sides of my face, catching them before the tears dropped into my ears. “I love you too.”
Every time I took any step forward lately, I then took two steps back and off a cliff next.
“And we’re gonna kick their asses in the competition. They don’t stand a chance. I’ve seen them rehearsing, and he’s as unbalanced as a fucking seesaw.”
The more the idea stirred around in my head, the more appeal it garnered.
Jonah and I danced together in a few shows, but never any competitions.
Competitions were reserved for Gabe and I.
He and I were a duo few could or had ever come close to matching.
Gabe was admittedly a much better dancer than Jonah.
Even in the peak of our relationship, I knew that, which is why I put little fight into our studio’s choice to place me with Gabe instead of Jonah for my first competition three years ago.
Together, we brought home lots of awards and accolades to our studio, and the competition coming up here in Chicago had always been in our plans. Even after I moved, we decided that we could still compete, just under a different affiliation.
Jonah knew how good Gabe was, and Hannah definitely knew that I could dance circles around her.
Maybe this could be it. Maybe this could be my chance to prove to everyone, to Jonah, that I didn’t need him to succeed.
I didn’t need him to be okay. In fact, without him, I’d prove just how much better off I was by crushing his arrogance into the dance floor, grinding it up into dust I could blow away.
I’d show him just how big of a mistake he’d made and watch as the regret swallowed his ego whole.
Sniffling the rest of the tears back where they belonged, I nodded as the fight and determination riled up inside of me.
“Let’s crush them.”