Chapter 6
Serena
My head feels like it is in a vice.
Why in the world did I drink so much last night? I don’t even remember getting home.
Am I home?
Now that I think about it, this doesn’t feel like my bed.
I sit up and look around. This is definitely not my room.
My hands fall on top of a mauve rabbit fur blanket covering a black duvet. There is a pile of black and mauve pillows that vary in size on the mahogany hardwood floor below me. The dresser across from the bed is scattered with crystals, plants and candles.
I know exactly where I am.
In the corner of the room is a giant memory foam bean bag with clothes piled up on them. It looks like my red dress is mixed in with a black skirt, sweats and other old clothes.
Running my hands across my body, I quickly realize that I’ve got nothing else on but my underwear underneath the covers.
There is an en-suite bathroom to the left of me with steam coming out from underneath the door. A shower sounds so damn good right now. I feel so disgusting and like alcohol is seeping out of the pores of my skin.
Now I remember why I usually offer to be designated driver.
The door opens, clearing the steam and Jules steps out with nothing but a towel around her head.
She is definitely not modest. Jules has never intentionally made me feel bad or self conscious about my body, but when she’s standing in front of me in all her perfectly toned glory, it’s hard not to be.
“Good morning sleepyhead!” She greets.
“Mmmm… can you not be so loud right now? Maybe dial it down juuust a smidge.” I squint at her through the centimeter gap between my forefinger and thumb.
She waves her hand at me and rummages through her dresser drawer. “Girl, you just need my hangover remedy, a hot shower, and you’ll be good as new.”
Rubbing my temples, I groan. “There is no way you’re getting that nasty brown goop down my throat. I would rather suffer the headache from hell than drink your concoction.”
“It helped last time, didn’t it?” Turning around, she puts her hand on her hip and narrows her eyes at me.
Damn. She’s got me there.
“It was disgusting and didn’t do jack shit for me.” I lie.
She slips on a pair of black panties and pulls an oversized t-shirt over her head and smirks. “You’re a lying liar Serena, and you know it.”
The pillow next to me goes flying through the air and hits her in the legs. She giggles and then jumps onto the bed with me. Tossing the covers off of myself, I shove her over to the side
“I’m going to take a shower. Towels still in the same place?”
Jules nods and reclines back against black pillows leaned up on the vertical metal bars of her bed frame, missing them all together. A loud thunk reverberates off the wall. She sits up and rubs the back of her head with a groan.
“Why don’t you just change your bed frame? You’re constantly hitting your head on that thing.”
“If you have to ask, you don’t want to know.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“And with that, I am leaving.” I slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Leaving my best friend laughing, and one more hit away from a concussion, on the other side of the door.
It’s not like I am a prude.
I’ve had sex before. Granted, the first time was with my boyfriend in high school and then the only other guy I’ve slept with is Tyler. And while I don’t have anything to compare it to really, I suppose it’s not bad .
It’s not mind blowing either though, and I do feel like I am missing out on something so much more than what I have been experiencing. From what Jules has shared, I could be having the best orgasms of my life. Leaving my legs shaking and body comatose.
But instead, I’m having lack luster ones given to me by my vibrator.
And I’m not going to lie, the thoughts she just put in my head sends a slow heat building inside me.
I’ve asked Tyler before, to tell me if there were things he wanted to try that we weren’t doing. Maybe spice things up. But every time I do, he changes the subject or just ignores me all together.
And lately, I've been having these fantasies, but I don’t know how to bring it up to him. The romance books I read have been opening up my eyes to an entirely different world and endless possibilities. Some of them kind of freak me out.
But a lot of it piques my interest…
The one time I did bring up wanting to try breath play, he called me a freak and told me it was weird that I wanted to be choked. I never asked him again after that night.
So, we just have the same old boring vanilla sex that we always have.
Finishing my shower, I exit the bathroom while wrapping my towel and tucking it underneath my armpit, I see that Jules has moved on from the bed and can hear her messing around in the kitchen. The clanking stops momentarily, and I hear her footsteps getting louder towards me from down the hall.
“Your cell phone has been going off like crazy since you’ve been in the shower.” Jules peeks her head into the bedroom.
My stomach drops. “Shit. It’s probably Tyler. I can’t remember if I texted him last night.”
“Your phone is on the nightstand babe.” She nods towards the nightstand next to the bed and leaves.
Last night was such a fog. The last thing that I remember was puking in the bathroom and the rest of it is a blur. I was supposed to let him know when I left, and I don’t think I did.
Tyler is going to be so pissed.
He hates it when I don’t tell him where I’m going. I used to think it was because he cared and just wanted to know in case something happened. It used to be cute, nice even. Having someone care about me so much.
Lately, I’ve been feeling like it’s more of wanting to know where I’m at in general. He didn’t used to be so angry about it either.
Sure enough, I pick up my phone and there have been ten missed texts and fifteen missed phone calls since last night.
At least I managed to text him that I was going out with Jules. That should have helped.
Tyler: Just got your text. Where did you guys go?
Tyler: Haven’t heard from you. Where are you?
Tyler: Hello?
Tyler: Babe?
Tyler: Where the fuck are you? I haven’t heard from you and I haven’t gotten any notification from the smart lock, so I’m assuming you’re not home.
Tyler: What the fuck Serena?! It’s 3 am. Where the hell are you?
Tyler: Answer my calls. Now
My phone lights up again in my hand, his name burning across the screen. My chest tightens and I can’t get myself to answer. I just stare at it, my thumb hovering over the green button.
Before I can gather the courage to face him, the call ends.
Me: I am so sorry baby. I thought I texted you last night. We just went to a club in the city and I lost track of time and then I drank a little too much. We just got an Uber and I slept over at her place. I should have called, I’m so sorry.”
I set down my phone and go to the walk-in closet where I have a drawer of spare clothes. When we used to go out more often, I learned it’s easier for me to just keep my own clothes here rather than try to borrow some of hers.
My phone buzzes from across the room on the end table, and my heart sinks. I feel like there is a boulder in the pit of my stomach when I pick it up.
Tyler: I’ll see you at home.
Fuck. He’s pissed.
It’s not even his house, and my skin is crawling just thinking about going back. My house that used to be my comfort and safe space, has turned into a place I dread to be.
I put my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and join Jules in the kitchen.
Her forehead is creased in concentration while she cuts up the apples to add to the disgusting brown smoothie she has brewing in the blender she calls her hangover cure . To me, it resembles the Polyjuice Potion from Harry Potter . I hate to admit it, but it does help.
I just won’t ever tell her that.
“Hey, can you give me a ride home?”
Licking her fingers, she drops the apples into the blender and puts on the lid. “Wish I could babe, but I have plans with my mom and have to finish getting ready.” She turns on the blender and the high-pitched whirring fills the sleek modern kitchen.
Dammit, that means I’m either going to have to Uber or call Tyler, and I really don’t feel like paying thirty dollars for a ride home. I swallow the lump in my throat and take my phone from my back pocket. My hands trembling, I manage to type out a message.
Me: I’m so sorry to ask, but Jules isn’t able to bring me home... Would you be able to pick me up?
My thumb hovers over the send icon and my pulse quickens. I press send and the ping goes through. About two minutes later, I see the three dots on the bottom left hand of the screen pop up.
I tap my fingers on the back of the phone waiting for his response.
Tyler: Of course you do. I’ll be there in 40 mins.
Me: Thank you…
Tyler: Yup.
I sigh and grab my purse, giving Jules a quick hug on the way out. I’d rather not be in the same room as her right now. She already doesn’t like him that much, and if I wait for him inside, she will be able to tell that something’s wrong.
And I do not feel like telling her about his messages right now. It would just add fuel to her fire of hatred for him.
The air outside is brisk and sends a chill down my spine when I walk out of the apartment complex.
I wrap my arms around my waist and tuck my purse closer to my body while I wait for Tyler to get here.
My stomach tightening into knots with every passing minute.
Warmth from the sun basks over my face and the wind whips my hair as if it were Medusa’s tentacles herself.
It’s been an hour and he still has not picked me up.
I stare at my phone, trying to bite back the frustration bubbling up my chest.
Just when I’m about to check my phone again and call him, I see his black Audi turn the corner into the complex parking lot.
He pulls up in front of me and opens the passenger door from the inside of the car. Not even a sideways glance at me as I climb in. I set my purse on the floor and wipe invisible dirt from my lap.