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“Yes, many times. It lessens it fractionally, but it comes back, and when it does, it’s worse than before. It’s like once I find that relief from myself, it makes my body hypersensitive, and needier.”
“Have you always lived here in Atlanta?”
Her hands stop moving and she tips her head back to look at me with confusion.
“Since I was an adult, yes?” She forms it as a question, like she’s not sure where I’m going.
“Do you ever sleep with the same guy more than once?”
I gather from her comment last night that she doesn’t let guys sleep over, that she also doesn’t like to sleep with the same guy more than once. But that’s difficult to believe. There are a lot of guys in Atlanta, but there’s not so many she could sleep with a different one every night for eight years straight.
“That would be pretty damn impossible not to do, Blue,” she answers with irritation in her voice. “No, I don’t like sleeping with the same guys for fear they may get attached, but there are some nights I need to. I just try to put a lot of time in between.
I nod, figuring that would be her answer. My next question, I’m going to hate the answer to because I already know it, but it’s something I need to ask.
“There has to be times you can’t find someone…” My question trails off. She understands what I’m getting at, though. Her body stiffens, and she looks back down at my shirt, avoiding my eyes.
She doesn’t answer my question, proving that I won’t like her response. Her fingers follow the path of my happy trail, until she reaches the waist of my pants. I stop her movements with my hand.
“Just tell me, Abby,”
Her hand balls into a fist against my stomach, and I can practically feel the uncomfortable feeling radiating off her.
“Nathan and Tegan, but mainly Nathan.” She says it so quietly, I almost don’t hear her. “When I can’t find someone, I call them. They’re always there when I need them.”
I close my eyes, trying to push back the anger I feel. It’s not her fault and it’s not Nathan’s, but I don’t like knowing she’s close friends with a guy she’s slept with repeatedly. A guy that she’ll continue to be friends with. A guy she’ll call on if I’m not around, or if she pushes me away.
Abby senses my inner struggle and doesn’t like it, because she asks me a question next, her voice angry.
“Would you rather me be in pain like I was last night? Or maybe call an escort service?”
The image of her having sex by a paid man heightens my anger even more. Fuck no! I push back the anger and force my body to relax. My fingers go to her hair, and I sift them through it. A wave of her shampoo assaults my senses, helping to calm the rage.
“No.”
“Good, because the thought of paying someone to have sex with me makes me sick. I may not have control over what my body needs, but I’ll never give up control of who I get to appease that need.”
My arms squeeze her tighter to me.
“Now, it’s my turn to say something, but I need to sit up and do it. I don’t want you touching me when I say what I have to say.”
She gets up, and I let her. I scoot up until my back rests against the arm of the couch while she does the same. She tucks her legs up to her chest, like she’s trying to put distance between us. I don’t like it, but I let her get away with it. If space is what she needs to say what she needs to, then I’ll give it to her, for now.
Once she’s comfortable, she brings her eyes to mine. They hold a determined look, and I brace myself.
“Why do you keep pushing this?” she asks, not needing to clarify what she’s talking about. “Why are you so determined to start something that you and I both know could never be?”
“Why are you so determined to believe that we can’t?” I counter.
She rolls her eyes, like my response is ridiculous. The feeling is mutual with hers. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know that when I want something I go after it, not letting anything get in my way of reaching it.
“Really, Blue? Do you not see how this is impossible?” She gestures between us with a wave of her hand. “Do you really want a sex fiend for a girlfriend, knowing she could, at any minute, be out sleeping with another guy?”
I don’t let her words get to me. I have no doubt it’ll be tough if we start a real relationship, but what couple doesn’t have bumps along the way? Yes, ours might be bumpier than others, but everything worth having never comes easy.
“Would you ever purposely cheat on me?” I ask.
“No, of course not,” she answers defensively. “I may be a lot of things, but a cheat isn’t one of them.”
