All this water all around me, and I’m drowning in my own misery.
I wait for hours for him to get home. Hours spent cycling through all the stages of grief and self-destruction. Hours, I know without a doubt, that Ari is in bed with Alonso.
At some point, I stop waiting for him to come home and just sit in the dark, staring out the window and watching the storm. Every time lightning cracks across the sky, I imagine Ari’s head falling back and a cry of pleasure falling from his open lips. Like the storm is a soundtrack to the perverse visions running through my mind. I’ve seen enough of Alonso’s movies to imagine a pretty explicit scene between him and Ari, their perfect bodies slick with a sheen of sweat, the sounds of the storm barely drowning out the sounds of skin slapping, breaths gasping, and moaning.
Even in my fucked-up nightmares, they’re beautiful together. Alonso is perfectly gentle and knows exactly how to touch Ari, how to praise him for taking his massive perfect dick so well.
I’m so deep into my spiral, I almost miss the door opening. Whispers come from the entryway, Ari thanking Eric and Eric telling him to drink some water before bed. Does that mean Ari’s drunk? Or did he have to sit up half the night and listen to Ari fuck some dude dry, too?
I hold my breath and force myself to stay still, to wait until Ari goes to bed. Now that he’s home, maybe I’ll be able to settle.
But the kitchen light flicks on, and I can see Ari quietly shuffling through the contents of the small fridge before pulling out a bottle of water. When he turns to the side, his profile all but confirms everything I’d been imagining.
Ari’s soft mouth is red and puffy. His cheeks are rubbed raw with beard burn. His neck is equally red. His shirt is crooked, and his hair is a disheveled mess.
He looks thoroughly fucked, eyes glassy but not unfocused.
I’m stone sober and dead inside when I say the stupidest thing I could possibly say at a time like this.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
EIGHTEEN
ARI
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Will’s voice comes out of nowhere so suddenly I nearly jump out of my skin, spinning around so fast I slosh water onto the floor. My heart is already pounding, partly from the shock, partly from the adrenaline of sneaking in like an errant teenager instead of a grown man who’s been on a date. I’d been so intent on being as quiet as possible, I didn’t consider that anyone else would be up, it’s late and we have soundcheck in the morning.
“Jesus!” I clutch the bottle to my chest. “What are you doing lurking in the dark like that?”
Will steps forward into the low kitchen light, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looks wrecked. His skin is pale and he looks wired in a way that makes me step closer to examine his pupils. Is he high or has he not slept in a while? He didn’t look this bad when I left earlier.
“I asked you a question.”
It takes me a moment to register Will’s words and his tone. The harsh, unrelenting sound of a man who thinks he’s owed an explanation for something that has nothing to do with him.
I laugh, short and humorless. “You’re kidding me, right?”
His posture, and the stern expression on his face, say otherwise.
“You don’t get to interrogate me like this,” I tell him, straightening my spine and crossing my arms to imitate his position. He does not get to try and intimidate me.
“You were with him.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Obviously. You know I was,” I point out. “I made it very clear where I was going and with whom. And I took my babysitter with me, Daddy, so you can get off my back.”
“Did you fuck him?”
I rear back like I might have heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”
“Did. You. Fuck. Him?”
“One, that’s none of your business. Two, why do you even care?”
He didn’t care when I was talking about my date. He didn’t care when I was getting ready. He didn’t care when I was leaving. I gave him every chance to say something, anything, to give any sign that he didn’t want me to go.
“I need to know.”
