14. Abigail – I’ve always thought people would find a lot more pleasure in their routines if they burst into a sont at significant moments.”-John Barrowman
14
Abigail
I’ve always thought people would find a lot more pleasure in their routines if they burst into a sont at significant moments.”-John Barrowman
I never sleep well when I drink. I sit up and rub my temples, feeling the hangover come on. I look around as my cushion comes into focus, remembering the tidbits from last night.
Josh got his granted wish. We got fucked up, and I’m pretty sure he got fucked as well last night with the girl who had fake boobs and blonde hair. I wanted to sleep in, but sleeping somewhere that wasn’t my room was challenging. I reached for my phone to see what time it was, 10 a.m.
It was only about an hour’s drive to my parent's house. I was in no rush to go back there. So I plop down on the bed and start scrolling through the pictures we took last night. As I scrolled, a faint smile stretched across my face as I saw all the funny photos we had taken. Josh never took photos seriously. loved that about him since I hated taking my picture. My heart nearly stops when I see that I snapped a photo of my pussy.
I clicked on the photo to see what time I took it.
One am? Was I really that drunk last night?
“Oh God,” I mumble out loud. “Please tell me I didn’t” I open my messages and immediately click on Jared, my ex’s name.
Say goodbye to the best you ever had, JJ. I’ll masturbate thinking of some other guy getting me off, and I don’t have to fake it anymore.
I slap my hand to my forehead.
“God, what is wrong with me?” I say into the empty room.
When I see a message below, I begin to read out the thread.
2:00 am: You’re lucky I fucked you at all. I could have had any chick, not just a butterface one.
2:10 am: I had to watch porn to get my dick hard, you bitch.
Geeze, it's a good thing I was drunk, if I read these sober I may have actually given a damn what he said. I regretted reaching out to him at all but what’s funny, now that I’m reading the texts in a coherent state of mind, his words don’t even phase me. It’s the first time I feel nothing except regret when I think of him.
He swore he’s never cheated on me, but our lack of sex made me question his loyalty. Although he’s never hit me, he was inches away from doing it one night, and I replayed that scene over and over, asking myself why he started acting like a devil on cocaine, and the only conclusion I could come up with was it had to be his guilty conscience and whatever he was hiding. I blamed it on the alcohol at the time, but the way he acted that night was out of character, and I never knew why.
I scroll through our drunken text conversation a little more and see that at about 3:00 am, when I passed out, he texts me again.
2:45 am: I should have broken up with you first. This is bullshit. No one breaks up with me.
2:50 am: Fuck, why are you ignoring me. I just want to talk. You fucked me up. I can’t believe you left me like that. No explanation. After almost two years.
2:55 am: Ilove you. I’m sorry, please talk to me. I miss you.
3:00 am: Please come back to me.
3:15 a.m: I’ll never hide anything from you again.
It’s funny when you don’t talk to people how they start talking to themselves and practically let their insecurities get the best of them. Add a hardened conscience in the mix, and then you have the truth. But I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the drugs or the fact that he did cheat on me.
I hear moaning in the other room and immediately start rolling my eyes. “Not again.”
I place a pillow over my head.
What about breakfast?
Josh never passes up food, so maybe if I text him about breakfast, he’ll hold off on fucking the chick in his bed until I leave. I reach for my phone to type out a text.
Hey, are you ready to get mimosas and some grub to help cure our hangovers?
“Yes, Josh, oh baby,” a faint girl's voice says.
I take in a deep sigh as I toss the phone on my bed.
“Too late,” I grab the pillow again and turn over on my belly, hoping that will help drown out the sex noises. But I know I have had enough when the headboard bangs against the wall next to me.
“Fuck it,” I say, turning on my back and throwing the sheets off me. I’m taking a shower, and if he’s not done by the time I’m out, I’m leaving. He is eating his breakfast in bed this morning anyway.
I put the shower on full blast, and made the water hot. Since the hospital, it’s been my reminder never to go back there. Although I haven’t starved myself or thrown up in almost three years, the triggers are still there, so I have to do things that remind me of how the disease is real and was a part of who I was, but it’s not who I am.
I toss my clothes from last night onto the floor and let the water hit me, avoiding my hair. Since my hair was so curly, I only washed it on certain days, and I had to wash it with the conditioner I bought from this fantastic hair specialist I found in California.
Even though the sounds of the water coming down on me drowned out most of the noises coming from Josh’s room, I still could hear them if I listened hard enough. My ex never satisfied me in bed, so a lot of times after sex, I would masturbate in the shower, and I’m grateful he never caught me in the act. I doubt he would have cared even if he did. He wasn’t the most sexual person since half of our sexual relationship was with me, myself and I.
I bring a hand to my clit as I start to make tiny circles with my middle finger. The warm water runs down on my neck, dripping down my back as I try and think of getting fucked on the bathroom counter by a stranger. I open my chest as I let the air come into my lungs and breathe hard as I apply more friction to my clit.
“Josh!”
Are you kidding me? She is screaming his name. God, she is putting on such a show. Are they still drunk? I try to erase the image of that girl on top of Josh riding his dick, but the moment is ruined. It’s too weird masturbating with the thought of Josh in my mind. Groaning, I turn off the hot water and grab a towel, drying myself off. I tie the towel around my torso and walk out to the bedroom to unzip my bag and find some clothes to wear.
It’s humid during the summers here, but since it’s the end of May, I have time to wear yoga pants and a T-shirt and not suffer tremendously. I unzip my bag and throw the cover to the opposite end on the floor when I hear Josh groan.
“Fuck baby, you feel so good.”
I throw a pair of socks in my bag and walk over to my phone.
“That’s it.” I quickly turn on my music, turning it up as loud as possible. Then, I walk over to my purse, where I keep my air buds, and promptly insert them in each ear. The Way You Make Me Feel starts playing, and I can’t hear a damn thing except the music playing in my ears.
It’s been a while since I danced. Sober anyway. College dancing out at the bars drunk always invigorated me, mainly because it was the only time I let my guard down and sang along with the lyrics, pretending I was on stage. Right now, I am Beyonce. I jogged over to the fan in the corner and turned it on, pulling my hair tie out and letting my curly locks fall to my back. I started slowly, swaying back and forth until my hips started to join in on the fun, but by the time the chorus came around a second time, I was full-on shaking my goods all over, in nothing but a towel. Jared was an ass man, and although I didn’t lack in the boob department, my ass was what he loved about me. It was one of the only blessings my mom gave me of hers. She had a perky, round butt. No matter what she did, it was always there. Same with me. The only time I didn’t have one was when I was anorexic, and now that I have had sex, I never wanted no-ass again.
No matter what. Guys loved to hold on to something when you were fucking them on top of or from behind. And a man getting turned on by me, turned me on that much more. I drop it down low and twerk my jiggly naked ass like nobody's business. When the song ended, an odd euphoric feeling came over me, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Maybe being back in Missouri would be good for me after all. And maybe naked dancing is just what I needed. So when Whitney Houston’s song I Want to Dance with Somebody comes on, I not only shake my ass, I sing along to the lyrics hearing how perfect I sound along with her voice.
I drop it down low, bend over and shake my ass before turning around and seeing a man barge in the door. I jumped and let out a blood-curdling scream. My self-defense mechanism kicked in, and I picked up the nearest thing I could get my hands on and threw it across the room, which happened to be my phone. The phone hits the intruder's head, and he groans in anguish.
“What the fuck are you doing in here,” I say.
Rubbing the spot where I hit him, he sneers. “I should be asking you that.”
My eyes go wide as my mouth forms an O shape. Oh shit, this must be Josh’s brother.
“Oh shit.” I’m so sorry. Josh said you wouldn’t be here this weekend, so we didn’t expect anyone.”
He lets his hand fall to his side. “Well, given this is my house, it would have been nice to know that I would be expecting company.”
“He told me he-” of course he lied. Dam you, Josh.
“Why did you barge into my room then?” I ask as if he was intruding on my place.
“You mean my room?” He narrowed his eyes on me.
I wrap my arms around my waist, feeling a chill in the room as he glares at me. “I thought he left the radio on in here, and I was coming to turn it off. I'd pound on his door and have him do it himself but it sounds like he’s getting pounded in the other room.”
For some reason, his comment made my ribs tighten, weakening my knees and suddenly all I wanted to do was run.
“I was just getting dressed then leaving, so I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
He stares at me before turning around and slamming the door shut.
Jerk .
I get why he may be annoyed, but we didn’t have a frat party. There were maybe a couple of cups left out with chips, dip, and probably some alcohol bottles.
I ignored his rude gesture and start to get dressed. I hear him bang on Josh’s door and yell, “Put your dick back in your pants and get the fuck down here.”
I heard a giggling noise, then a thud and a few curses from Josh. I can’t help but smile as I slip on my tennis shoes and pack up my suitcase. Once I’ve made the bed and wiped down the bathtub, I pick up my luggage and head downstairs.
The blonde from last night is sitting next to Josh, drinking a cup of coffee while his brother reels into him about the mess.
“I told you not to have parties here unless I know about them. And what if I brought Bodie, and he walked in on all this shit. You need to stop acting like you can do whatever you want.”
“Man, I get it. I’m sorry I told you I’d clean up. It’s not like we broke anything or there are stains anywhere. You're overreacting.”
“Overreacting? I could overreact and call the cops and have you arrested for intruding, then maybe that would teach your ass.” he throws a roll of paper towels at Josh before I hear him mutter.
“Fucking millennials.”
“We’re Gen Z,” the blonde girl says, all bubbly. She sips her coffee and stares at Josh’s brother over her glass. He’s too busy whipping down the counter to notice that she is pretty much eye fucking him while the guy she just fucked, literally, is sitting next to her. But Josh is oblivious to her subtle flirting.
“So what does a lake house like this cost?” she says, looking around. I roll my luggage into the room just as Josh’s brother answers. “A pretty penny,” he says, clearly not in the mood for small talk.
This guy is seriously OCD or just a complete asshole.
“I guess I’ll be heading out,” I say, and Josh looks up from his phone.
“Heading out already? I thought you wanted to get breakfast,” he says, getting up from his chair.
“Uh, ya, I figured I’d just grab some coffee and an egg sandwich at a gas station and fill up so I can be on my way.” I briefly look over Josh’s shoulder, at his brother.
“Okay, I have to ask, are you the quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals?” Her voice is light and sugary, as if she is about to eat him up.
“Yeah, he is,” Josh says, still looking at me. His tone has a hint of annoyance.
I should have known he was a jock. Maybe if he were rude to her, she wouldn’t want to drop her panties for him just because he played in the NFL.
“Oh my God, I knew it. Okay, was it true that you had a secret affair with Giovanni and Taylor Swift simultaneously? I mean, I’m totally team Giovanni since she’s like the prettiest supermodel out there, and I used to like Taylor until she got all weird with her performances.”
I roll my eyes inwardly at how incredibly dumb she sounds. I can feel myself losing brain cells as I stand here and listen to her.
“I thought you weren’t in a rush to get back,” Josh asks, utterly uninterested in the conversation his little one-night stand is trying to start with his brother. I look back at Josh’s brother again, and he must feel his eyes on me because he glances over.
“I might as well get it over with. Either face them now or face them later. I can help you clean U-.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. My brother is just OCD.” Josh interjects.
“Okay, well, text me later. I have to clean this up, and then maybe we can get some grub or something. As soon as I head back, my dad will put me to work on the ranch, so I’m taking my sweet little time.”
I chuckle to myself. “Okay, I’ll catch up with you later.”
He gives me a peck on my cheek, and the blonde eyes me and forces a smile. “I’m Megan by the way. I think we met briefly last night.”
“Ya, nice to meet you again, Megan,” I say with a smirk. “I'm sorry we didn’t get to talk more. I know you must be tired from all the tumbling games we played.”
I try and hold back my laug as I say, “nice meeting you as well,
“Ya,” is all he says.
Not, it was nice meeting you, I’m so and so. Not even a simple goodbye. But with how moody he seems, I’m grateful it’s not; get the fuck out. He must be an air sign. My guess is anAquarius or a Gemini.
“Catch ya later, Josh,” I say as I grab the handlebar of my luggage and head out the door.