28
David
Irun my hand through Bianca’s dark hair. Her head is on my chest.
“You know, we really need to stop this,” she says and smirks up at me.
She admitted she was married after we slept together several times. Her husband travels for work, and she’s often alone. She’s fiercely independent, only calling me for sex when she needs a release. She’s a great boss and an even better lover. She calls me “emotionally unavailable” and says this is why our little arrangement works.
“I know we do,” I say. “But I’m not ready yet.”
Bianca kisses me and straddles my waist. Her breasts are full and warm against my skin.
I kiss her, and her hair falls over my shoulder. There’s a knock on the door. I look at her and mouth an apology. She replies with a huff and lays down beside me. I pull on a pair of jeans and go to answer the door.
When I open it, Emily stands in front of me.
“Emily? What are you doing here?”
“That’s a nice welcome.”
I glance back at my closed bedroom door. “I’m sorry, but now is really not the best time, Em.”
Bianca walks out of my room wearing my t-shirt and her panties. She slips into the bathroom and the door shuts behind her. I look back at Emily. There are equal parts surprise and disappointment on her face.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were hosting. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
She turns to leave, and I grab her shoulder, turning her back to me. She pushes away. It almost feels like when we were younger and she’d fight me to let her go.
“Emily, stop!”
“No, David. My life is shit and then I see you… ugh, just forget it.”
“No, I won’t just forget it. Bianca and I are just seeing each other casually.”
“Because that makes things so much better?”
Emily shrugs out of my grasp and leaves before I can stop her again. Bianca comes out of the bathroom, dressed in her own clothes. She walks up to me and rubs her hand down my arm.
“Well, that is a side of you I haven’t seen. Maybe you aren’t as emotionally unavailable as I thought you were.”
She smirks and kisses me before grabbing her purse and leaving. I pick up my phone and send a text.
David: Emily, are you still close by? Please come talk to me.
No response.
I start toward my room, and there's a knock on the door. I rush back to answer it. It’s Emily, and she looks so broken. Her cheeks are tear-stained, as if she’s spent her short time away crying.
“Listen, I’m sorry I overreacted. I shouldn’t have come without talking to you first. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone,” she says with a flat affect.
“We aren’t dating or anything. We’re just friends with benefits. But hey, you have Kevin!”
“I know, I know. You’re right. You’re allowed to be happy, I guess,” she says, as if she’s trying to convince herself.
I step aside, and she walks into the apartment.
“So are you, you know?”
My heart truly wants her to be happy, despite the muddled feelings I have for her.
* * *
Emily
I needto get control of my jealousy. These are the same feelings I’ve had since we were teenagers. He’s right, though. I do have Kevin. Lucky me.
I look away from his gaze because I feel the tears threatening to make an appearance. He reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him like he always does.
“I know you aren’t happy with him, so why are you staying with him? You’re so much better than that.”
“So I should leave him? And do what? Go where? He depends on me.”
“Don’t mistake dependence for love, Emily. You can always move back in here. Your room is just how you left it.”
I can’t argue back because he’s right. But I don’t want to start over and get back in the dreadful dating world, leaving Kevin by himself. What if something happens to him because I left? Maybe I can still fix him.
“Is my room really still how I left it?”
He nods. I walk past him and into my old room. I flip the light on, which flickers like it used to. The air is stale.
I touch the wood of the dresser, feeling the grooves against my skin. It’s so familiar. It feels like home. I open the drawer and reach behind the clothes still left in there. I feel for a plastic bag. Hopefully, David never found them. My fingers meet with the baggie and I pull it out, laying it on my hand. Ten round white pills. I close my hand around them and clutch them to my chest with a sigh. It feels good to have them, even if I don't use them. I put them in my pocket and return to the living room. David sits on the couch, watching TV. I sit beside him.
“I’m sorry about last night. I was a hot mess,” I say.
“It’s okay. I was just worried about you, is all. I haven’t seen you drink like that in years. Is everything okay?”
“Kevin has been doing this cute new thing where he gets kind of threatening.”
“He what?”
David’s posture becomes rigid. He nearly stands up.