“I can think of a ton of reasons why he’d turn down a beej in the back room at Hermit Crab,” Ellie said. “But I’m a little shocked you’d be game for something like that. Think about it. At best you’re friends with limited benefits. At worst, you’re weirdos who occasionally have sofa sleepovers.”
I held up and then discarded another dress. “He said it himself. He’s been in a funk. I’m funkified enough to get him out of it, and when I do, he’ll add me to his discard pile.”
I settled onto an empty corner of the bed and polished off the iced cappuccino I picked up on my way home from my lesson with Seraphina. She wasn’t talking yet, but now she looked at me and occasionally offered a nod to indicate she wanted to play ‘More Than This’ again. And again. And again.
“Hey, Analyzer Girl? Can you put Tiel back on? You’re annoying.” She said something to one of her bandmates and laughed. “Do you need my permission to cancel on him? If you honestly don’t want to go, say it. I’ll call and tell him you moved to Copenhagen.”
“I want to go,” I said. “I just can’t find anything to wear.”
I wasn’t giving voice to the thoughts pinging through my mind: was he still hooking up every night? Was he fucking club girls only to call me five minutes later and ask about my day?
I wanted to be that girl who could roll with rooftop kisses and sex-free sleepovers and then some, and considering I initiated it all, I should have been able to handle it. But I wasn’t built that way.
Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
“What about that navyish dress? The lacy one?”
Frowning, I thumbed through the closet one more time until landing on the sleeveless flared skirt dress. The sapphire color seemed mature without being boring, and the eyelet embroidery pattern was cute and eclectic.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Maybe.”
“I have to run. It’s chow time and these boys are under the impression their beards entitle them to more food. But listen, whatever you’re working yourself up about? Use your words. Tell him what you want and what you don’t want. Big girl panties.”
I turned up my Taylor Swift playlist and packed the dresses back into my closet, then set to finding shoes. Ellie mentioned her beige heels, but I didn’t understand why anyone would wear beige. I wasn’t designed for heels, either. I wobbled too much, and never managed the elegant strut of women who knew their way around some stilettos.
The dress paired perfectly with a fuchsia cardigan, and the flat iron brought some order to my hair while a crème treatment tended to my girlstache. Thankfully, the fine whiskers weren’t multiplying in length or quantity, but like clockwork, they switched back to black within a couple weeks of bleaching. I was nearly finished with my eyeliner when I heard a knock.
He was facing down the hallway and adjusting his cuffs when I opened the door, and he pivoted, giving me a slow motion view of his charcoal gray three-piece suit.
Oh, holy Moses.
I’d heard the phrasesuit pornbefore but never saw the interest until Sam Walsh. It helped that he was standing in my doorway with a lopsided grin, and I knew what he hid under all those fine fabrics.
I mean, mostly. There were a few lingering mysteries that I was, ahem,curiousabout.
“Hi,” he said. His eyes moved over me, and his smile fell into a scowl. “Are you wearing that to piss me off?”
I looked down at my dress and gold ballet flats, and back up at Sam. There was often commentary about my clothing, but it was playful, not scowly. “What?”
“How is this any fun for me?” He gestured to the lace that covered my chest and shoulders. “What did I do that took your tits away from me?”
“You ran screaming from me like I was a fucking zombie trying to suck your brains out through your dick,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed that I’d spent an hour rummaging through every scrap of clothing in this apartment only to meet with his dissatisfaction. As far as I was concerned, he’d lost the right to cleavage-viewing. “And when you finally called me, it was one o’clock in the morning.”
Sam stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his eyes rolling when he turned to me. “No. That’s not what happened. Not even close.”
He rubbed his brow, and his cufflinks caught my attention. They looked like real emeralds, and somehow they matched his pink paisley tie and silver pocket square beautifully.
“Then tell me what happened,” I said.
He shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh before meeting my eyes. “I didn’t want you sucking me off in some back room like any of those . . . you know what? It doesn’t matter what I did before. Blowjobs are a lot like cheeseburgers. Just because I can get one anywhere doesn’t mean that’s what I want.”
“Since when do you eat cheeseburgers?”
Yeah, I liked to focus on the core issues like that.
“I don’t. That’s not the point, Tiel.”
He laughed and held out his hand to me, but I didn’t budge. I could let go, I could forgive and forget, but it took me a little longer to get there than most. My sister always said I held grudges, though I didn’t see it that way. My feelings just moved at their own speed, some faster than others.
