Why couldn’t I focus?
Myboyfriendtexted me. Because I had one of those. One I was constantly cheating on.
Cheating on him because of him. Because I would never have been put into this situation if he hadn’t borrowed the money.
But me liking it? That made it cheating, right? Whether I had a choice or not, which I didn’t, I still liked it. I was still obsessing over it. That made it cheating.
If I hadn’t been before, now I knew for certain; I was definitely, 100% cheating on my boyfriend of three years.
The shame and guilt grew right alongside the anger and hatred. It brewed within my stomach like ingredients in a witch’s cauldron, bubbling and broiling, the smoke drifting over the edges, infecting my skin and bones, my sinew.
I was pathetic.
Steven:Come over.
He knew. He had found out and now I was going to pay for it.
No, don’t be stupid. He had mentioned a surprise a few days ago, this had to be it. A surprise from my dick of a boyfriend even though I was fucking the lacky of a man who was beating the shit out of him for money he borrowed.
Olivia:On my way.
I deserved whatever punishment he gave me if that’s what it actually was, and if not? If it truly was a gift, then I would refuse it because I didn’t deserve to be rewarded. Not for anything.
With a sigh, I got dressed, grabbed my things, hailed a cab, and headed for the other side of town.
It was a small two-bedroom house, nothing fancy or special. Why would it be? He barely had the money to pay rent, that’s why he had to get the loan.
I had often wondered how much the loan had been if he was still asking me for money. Enough to split it into two, according to the man, but where did it all go?
Why did he live in a rundown place in this part of Colorado Springs if he got money from somebody like the masked man and his partner?
I knocked on the door, smoothing out my dress, only to wince as I took it in. I should have worn something else. Something not so easily accessible. I wasn’t in the mood to get fucked, I just wanted to deal with whatever he wanted to talk about and leave.
But if that man showed up again, wouldn’t that state-of-mind change?
Of course it would.
Why?
Why him? Why not my boyfriend? Steven wasreallynice when he wanted to be. He was good and kind and he cared a lot about me when I wasn’t messing everything up, so why wasn’t I as turned on with him as I was with the other guy?
And the shame grew.
“Come in!”
I made sure my scarf was in place before walking through the door and closing it behind me. It always smelled of old food in here. “Hey,” I called, trying to act normal.
“Kitchen.”
I looked around the place, old takeout containers still sitting on his coffee table, discarded coffee cups, pizza boxes filled with half-eaten pizzas, and old clothes tossed absentmindedly around the room. I offered to help clean it up, but he just got angry, telling me I was ‘too clean’. Whatever, I didn’t live here, he could live however he wanted, so long as he didn’t bring it back to my place.
I walked into the kitchen, finding him, surprisingly, at the sink, his back towards me. “Hey, what’s up?”
His shoulders were tight, his head low. He certainly wasn’t doing the dishes. And he certainly wasn’t in the mood to give me whatever gift he was talking about the other day. “Your mom called me this morning,” he said, his voice low.
I felt whatever bare smile I had managed to put on drop, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach as every muscle in my body tightened, preparing for whatever was about to happen. “Oh?” was all I could say. This. This is what I had been waiting for. Mom said she would call him. Mom said she would talk to him about what I tried to stop telling her.
I thought she had forgotten. Shealwaysforgets.
