I turn my attention to the window, keeping my back to him. “Hey, Eric.”
“You know she doesn’t bite,” he says jokingly, as I hear him searching the floor for his clothes.
Confused, I redirect my attention to him. “Who?”
He grabs his shirt, pulling it overhead as he answers me in a tone muffled by the fabric hitting his lips, “The woman next door.”
“Oh,” I respond, embarrassed that he caught me peering out the window. “Yea, I guess so. It’s just so strange she never leaves the house, and rarely does she have any visitors,” I continue. “I’ve caught her multiple times, too, just staring out the window.”
“What, like you were just doing? You know, it’s not illegal to look out your own window, Sienna,” he teases, pointing out the hypocrisy of my own statement.
“You know what I mean. It’s just creepy, is all,” I say, as I turn to face Eric, still holding onto the sheet I have draped around me like a dress.
He flashes me a wide grin, accentuating his dimples that are almost completely hidden by his thick beard. “Will I see you tonight?” he optimistically asks, with puppy dog eyes.
“I think Nessa and I are going to have a girls’ night tonight before she heads back to the city.”
He rolls his eyes, and the smirk that was just on his mouth disappears. “Alright, I can take a hint.”
I know I am letting him down; I just don’t feel that way for him. Plenty of people have casual sex. I shouldn’t feel guilty for hooking up with Eric, especially when I have made my intentions explicit.
“Eric, why do you do this? I told you we are just friends, nothing more,” I remind him in a weak attempt to rebuild some boundaries or sense of normalcy in our friendship.
He shakes his head in frustration at my words. I know I’m coming off harsh, I just don’t know how many times I can tell him that it’s just physical between us and nothing more.
I go to open my mouth to lessen the blow my words had on his ego when a defeated smirk unfolds from his lips.
“I get it, Sienna. I’m your friend when you want me to be and your fuck buddy when you want me for a good time.” The bitterness in his voice is loud and clear. He lowers his hand as my eyes follow his movements. The Beetlejuice tattoo on his right hand is now clenched in a tight fist as he stares at me with harsh eyes.
His anger doesn’t scare me. I’m used to this with Eric, he has always been a bit of a hothead.
I meet his intense gaze with my own agitated stare. “That’s not fair, Eric!” I say as I roll my eyes.
“Yea, whatever, life is not fucking fair, Sienna,” he hisses as he slides on his jeans.
“I told you where I stood before we started hooking up and you agreed. Then, each time after, you make me feel guilty.”
“No, I just let you know how I feel. If you feel guilty, there is probably a good fucking reason, Sienna.”
“Shut up, Eric,” I seethe.
“You know, you can live your life all you want, staring out that Goddamn window, but he isn’t fucking coming back. He left you!” he shouts. His words sting, even though it’s the truth.
His anger is just masking his pain. I wear the same mask day in and day out. He is staring at the one he wants, while I am staring back at him, wishing he was someone else.
“Well, you are the one who is bringing him up. I was just mentioning the creepy woman who lives next door, but you decided to take it there,” I say, getting increasingly frustrated that he isn’t even making eye contact with me.
Instead, he continues to scan the floor, looking for his damn belt. Granted, my room could use a tidy-up, but Jesus Christ, my floors aren’t that clutter-filled. I immediately spot his black leather belt across the room. I stomp over to it, seething from the way he is jealously starting an argument with me.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I demand.
As I begin to toss his belt to him, I forget to hold on to the sheet I have draped over me. Just as the belt leaves my hands, down goes the sheet onto the ground, exposing my naked body.
Eric’s eyes instinctively trail down my silhouette as I rush over to grab my robe.
“Don’t even think about it,” I mumble under my breath as I leave my room, heading toward the bathroom so I can wash my face. But more importantly, get away from him.
I’m not even halfway down the hallway when I hear his footsteps trail behind me. He follows me into the bathroom, and I pretend I don’t see him, despite my bathroom being narrow and him being well over six feet tall. It’s a tight squeeze, but I shimmy my way around him to grab a washcloth, still ignoring his presence.
