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“Do you message your ex?”
“Absolutely not.”
“If I find out you have been texting her, her legs are to be broken too. An eye for an eye.” I shrug, seems fair, really.
“Done,” I tell her, nodding. She looks at me in disbelief and then goes back to searching the phone. When she is happy, she hands me the phone back.
“I hate you.”
“But you would still fuck me, right?” She crawls into the bed without an answer, I order the food after leaving the room, and when it’s done, I walk back in to find Lottie asleep, the sheet pulled over her lower body. She moans, and I realize she isn’t snoring, but she is clearly asleep. Walking over, I pull the sheet up and over her entire body. She turns in her sleep, gripping the sheet, leaving her back bare. Leaning down, I kiss the side of her lips and slide in next to her.
When I do, she touches me, her hand finding mine, and I wrap my fingers with hers, gripping her the same way we were before I moved out. Lottie’s become a sort of comfort for me, but it’s snuck up unexpectedly, and I didn’t want that, those nights away from her, were torture. She was a means to an end, and now all she will ever see in me is someone who blackmailed her. How could she ever love someone like me?
I don’t regret what I did, and I will still go through with my plan—no matter what. But what I didn’t expect is to have feelings for this woman.
This shouldn’t be happening.
Closing my eyes, I grip her tight.
I don’t have nightmares that night, but when I wake, she’s gone.
And it’s as if she were never here to begin with.
I walk to my car and ring Lottie, but she doesn’t answer. It’s no surprise. I didn’t think she would after she snuck out.
Calling Barry, he answers straight away. “So, you fucked her again,” he says.
“What the fuck?”
“She told Emma. I may have been listening in.”
“Did she say anything good?”
Barry goes silent. “She said something along the lines of ‘a means to an end,’ and you ‘both have needs.’ And that you fucked up my favorite drummer, dude, that’s not cool.”
“Well,” I say, smiling.
“Then, she said she still hates you, even if the sex is good,” he adds.
“Hates me?” I ask him.
“Oh yeah, she then proceeded to call you a lot of names. None which I can repeat, of course, since I am a gentleman.” He laughs then starts, “Fucker, dick head, asshole…”
“Okay, enough.”
“But I’m not finished,” Barry whines. “Blackmailing prick—” He stops. “Oh, hold on, that may have been Emma who said that.”
“This isn’t helping, Barry.”
“She’s at work if you’re looking for her.”
“Thanks.”
“Whiskey…”
“Yeah…”
“What color are her eyes?”
