Chapter Five
My stomach hurt.
I got dressed. I brushed my hair. I made some tea and avoided my phone like a plague rat, but still my guts roiled as I replayed the car over and over again.
She liked me too much, which was a batshit concept, but more than anything, I fixated on the memory of placing her hand on my breast. Was that too far? Had I made her feel violated? I wanted to puke.
I forced the tea down, then dragged myself to my phone as I pulled out the business card from my purse.
Two unread messages—
One missed call from—
I simply didn’t care.
I stared at the blank message, typed and deleted and typed once more until I managed something at least somewhat coherent. Hey, Alex. It’s Terra. I just wanted to apologize for what happened in the car. I hope I didn’t overstep. Please tell me if I did.
I stared at it, then added: Thanks again for the ride.
Sent.
Before I could rise to make more peppermint tea, my phone screen lit up, showing a message from Alex. It’s okay, I promise. I was going to apologize to you, too. I didn’t mean to just kick you out.
The three little dots revealed that she was still typing. I held my breath, stomach clenched anew until a second message appeared.
I really like you. I meant that.
The clenching turned into fluttering, an unexpected elation filling me. I hadn’t a clue what to say, but thankfully, she was still typing.
I don’t want to keep you up late. We can talk in the morning. I promise everything is okay ??
How dare she be sweet. It actually kinda pissed me off, intertwining strangely with my insatiable joy. I won’t be in bed for—
The front door lock jostled.
My anxiety spiked. I dropped my phone as I searched for a weapon—something, anything to fight off the intruder. Cliff had finally come—
But the door opened, and I remembered that I had a mother.
Remnants of the rain splattered Mom’s work uniform—similar to mine, though the button-down was black—and her identical blonde hair had started to frizz. “Oh, Terra. Please tell me you didn’t bike home in this rain. I tried to call you.”
When Mom glanced at my phone for emphasis, I remembered there was an open message to Alex. Panicked, I hit send.
I hid it and the business card as nonchalantly as I could behind my back, even as Mom embraced me. “No, I got a ride. Why are you home so early?”
Mom’s exhaustion was clear in her eyes, the perpetual grey hollow beneath what had once been bright blue a condemning glimpse into my own future. Her smile was just as stale as her gaze. “They cut my hours again. Slow season, you know?”
There was no ‘slow season’ at the furniture store, but I nodded regardless. We could lie to ourselves a little longer, pretend we didn’t see the writing on the wall.
Thunder rumbled outside, the downpour still going strong. Mom locked the door and set her wet purse and jacket aside. “Who drove you home? Liam?”
“No, I….” My words faded out. Liam would’ve been the perfect out, dammit. “I-It was someone else.”
Mom’s drained visage suddenly prickled with life, intrigue raising her eyebrow. “Who? Just someone else or someone else?”
Why was I so defensive? I didn’t have to be. My secrets were safe with Mom.
But even I didn’t know what this meant. And I wasn’t about to tell Mom I’d made out with a hot butch in the front seat of a car worth three times her yearly salary.
“I don’t know,” I said, the truth of it causing my heart to sink. “I’m not sure what to call it.”
Probably nothing. Hopefully nothing. Anything else was too much, too soon, too dangerous—
Mom’s expression softened. “Sorry, baby. You just haven’t had any sort of someone since El died, and I…well, I just wondered.”
I’d had plenty of someones—not that she needed to know—but never a someone. “I guess I’m wondering too,” I admitted.
“When are you going to see them again?” Mom pressed.
I shrugged, which was the most blatant lie of the night. I’d see Alex tomorrow around 8 AM, just like always.
At least…I hoped so.
Mom’s smile was warmth in the storm. “Well, I’m always here if you want to talk. In the meantime, I’d like to get out of these clothes.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, Terra. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Mom left, and I retreated to my room. The juvenile space hadn’t been updated since my high school decorating days, with glow-in-the-dark stars puttied to the ceiling and fairy lights around a Goodwill vanity.
A few band posters on the wall, plus a prized poster of the Andromeda Galaxy I’d gotten from a field trip to the science center, and the unmatching set of sheets screamed anything but a respectable twenty-three-year-old woman, but I was hardly respectable.
My phone buzzed. I whipped it out, pulse spiking at the one unread message—
Don’t leave me hanging. Don’t you want this?
And a dick pic. Chad.
Nothing from Alex.
I deleted the dick pic, really not wanting to be jump-scared again, then switched to my new text thread with Alex. No read receipt.
Alex had driven me home. She’d come all the way to the shop just to give me her number, and I was starting to suspect she had stuck around to make sure I’d had a ride.
All because she liked me too much. Why did she like me at all, though?
The untouched text thread with Cliff loomed like a cursed object. I had to show Alex at some point…but then there was that damn picture. Cliff hadn’t reached out again, but I felt uneasy.
I set the phone on the bedside table and crawled into the twin bed, my nausea at ignoring Chad somehow dampened by a gnawing…guilt? It seemed like a betrayal to Alex, but that was stupid. Alex and I weren’t anything.
“Let me take care of you,” she’d said, and I shivered at the memory of her hot breath on my lips.
I shut my eyes, determined to sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned, disgruntled by memories of Alex touching me in the car….
Buzz. Buzz.
Blindly, I reached for my phone, the dim light aggravating my eyes in the darkness. One unread message from Alex.
Won’t be in bed for what? ??
Dammit. I hadn’t actually finished the text. Now I had to think of something clever. The winky face meant I could flirt a little, right? I was so confused. Everything about Alex confused me.
Guess I was playing the game. I typed back: I won’t be in bed without thinking about tonight ?? Hope you don’t mind.
Alex replied quickly this time. I’m definitely thinking about you.
In a good way, right? Frantic, I tugged the metallic string on the lamp on my bedside, flinching when warm light filled the room.
Half-blind, half-anxious, I pushed aside my blanket and all but ripped off my shirt.
I could salvage this. She didn’t want to grope me in the car, but I could lure her in with a teaser, right?
It was a nice thank you. Polite, even. I settled back down, then arranged my hair to cover one tit and cupped the second for a quick photo. No face. No need.
I hope so. Send.
The phone buzzed in sync with hitting send: I don’t want to risk oversharing, but I think it’s only fair to admit I haven’t been with anyone for over two years, for personal reasons.
But I’d be willing to end that for you. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you.
Fully the opposite. I think you’re beautiful, but I want to treat you right.
My face burned, a very different panic overtaking the cold terror of rejection. Damn multi-texters. My fingers flew in an apology, when another message appeared: Nice.
In the silence of night, I muttered, “She acts all sweet, and you just send her a nude, you stupid….”
But what I sent was: omg sorry. I thought you meant the car
I’m thinking about the car now ??
The reality of what the text had actually confessed struck me fully—that Alex had…had a nice time?
My cheeks still radiated heat; the rest of me was starting to match. But even beyond my own dumbass self, Alex, purposefully or not, was cornering me into confronting a reality I’d been hiding from.
I steeled my breath, eyes half-shut as I typed up the worst reply of all time. I like you too.
And then I erased it. Much too vulnerable. I tried something else. You can treat me however you’d like ??
She replied: Let me think on that. We’ll talk tomorrow at the shop.
Anticipation already brewed inside me. Damn, I would not be sleeping. I will be bullying you, as per usual.
Dear god, please do.
Our past interactions suddenly made a helluva lot more sense. Even alone in my room, I bit my lip, smiling unbidden at the thought that she’d maybe been getting off on it this whole time. I texted back. Is this a humiliation kink, or are you into punishing brats?
You’ll have to wait and see ??
The realization that this was the most fun I’d had flirting in years wasn’t lost on me. Quiet anxiety still pestered me, but it was just that.
Quiet.
Alex sent a second message. I feel bad keeping you up. Talk tomorrow?
Today, technically ??
Got me there ? Goodnight!
I lay there overthinking, mulling over what we’d said, how I’d said it, torn between admitting that maybe I liked her too, versus keeping up the status quo.
The question did remain, though, of whether she was a brat tamer or into degradation. With that in mind, I touched myself where she would not, imagining her hands on my breast, teasing my nipples, playing with my clit, even pushing inside me, fucking me with that smirk on her face.
I heard her voice so clearly: Let me take care of you.
I prayed she would.
The pressure inside me burst, surmounting pleasure forcing me to bite back a moan. I rode out each wave, rubbing furiously until the final jolt of pleasure hit and I was forced back down to earth.
Heart racing, adrenaline falling, the post-nut clarity struck. I stared at the ceiling and the faintly glowing stars, studying the constellations I’d charted out back in high school as I tried to justify the truth—and failed.
I was being romanced.
By Alexandria Winthrop.
That fuckboy.
And I fucking loved it.