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“Don’t forget about the meeting on Monday. I’m going to find Kirsten, say hi and go home. You can take the Benz.” I held my clutch low in front of my hips.
“What? You’re leaving? What am I supposed to do?” His tall frame looked silly, with his palms up and outstretched like that. Like one of those Bozo the Clown statues.
I turned to walk away, swinging my hips wide. I looked over my shoulder and said, “You’ll figure it out. You’re a big powerful man.”
I was exhaustedfrom working all weekend, and I still had two more shifts until I had a day off.
Maybe if I hadn’t jacked off half the night, I would feel more rested. Sleeping half the day and staying up most of the night didn’t give me much time for a social life. Juniper was the only friend I had made, and I liked the companionship of my paper tomes full of fantasy worlds. Photography wasn’t exactly something you could do without a camera. Maybe that was why I stopped.
While I started out as an amateur in middle school; I learned most about photography from the books at my school’s library. For my twelfth birthday, my parents bought me my first Nikon. Developing film was like unwrapping a Christmas presents on Christmas Day. The mysterious reward of your pained art. Maybe it was good; maybe it was trash. I only say pained because I liked to climb trees to get my shots. Full camera strap and all; I would climb to the top and get breathtaking photos of the Sacramento sunset.
One slip of a worn-out sneaker, and I fell about six feet from a tree when I was twelve. I didn’t even care about my broken arm. I cared about my busted camera, laying in pieces on the ground where I had fallen on top of it. The lens was busted, but two summer jobs later, I had saved up enough to buy a brand new one.
I realised what it meant to have money. To have things. And if you wanted things, you needed money. My work ethic has been solid since then, and now that I know I can work for what I want; I always will. Since the move, I haven’t felt like photography anything. My desire to get out my dusty camera, power it on and explore; had left me.
But now, there’s Alyssa.
She was brilliant with the camera, intelligent, and always asked the right questions. Maybe she could help. From the moment I saw her at the bar until the day we moved into her beach house- I wanted to know more. I wanted to what she did in her spare time when no one was watching her. I wanted to know what lies she told my father. I felt the electricity between her and I, that night on the dock. I know she felt it too, or else she wouldn’t have said what she did.
She had been crying, and what reason would a newlywed have to cry? Someone with wealth like hers; what was there to cry about? Now I sounded like my father. I wanted to touch her; I wanted to smell her. But more than anything, I wanted to photograph her.
I hadn’t felt this way in over a year. I even feared that my passion for photography had faded, burned out like a candle. Obviously, it didn’t. Is this what it feels like to have a muse? Could she inspire me enough to bring me back to snapping shots of flowers and honeybees?
I pulled the Augustine’s uniform over my head. It was white with blue and almost matched my eyes. There was a small logo on the front of a yacht and a large swell of ocean below it. They stitched my name into the collar. I walked into the kitchen and found a very rumpled looking Judas, sitting at the formal dining table with his head in his hands.
“Rough night? You look like shit.” I poured myself a cup of cold coffee from the coffeemaker and put it in the microwave, the loud beep cutting through the air.
“Dammit, Jeno. You always gotta be so fucking annoying?” He pushed himself up from the table, the chair making a loud squeak. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed the cup under the refrigerator’s ice machine.
“Seriously, you look like shit. You stayed up all night, didn’t you?” I poured creamer into the coffee mug and stirred the sweet smell of caffeine at four in the afternoon.
“Yup. Went to Sac town, hung out, came back.” He downed the entire glass in one giant gulp, making my stomach turn.
“I’m leaving for work, get some sleep.” I patted his arm, and he nodded, looking at the floor.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He quipped.
Everything that happenedyesterday was too much for me to process.
The only woman to occupy my thoughts in a long time; was engaged. To my father. One smouldering look from underneath her black eyelashes was all it took. Her lips were pink and glossy, and damn if I didn’t want to know what both of her lips tasted like. A nectarine, or maybe a juicy peach. The thought of her pussy making my dick harden against the mattress.
I had made it into work on time, even though I was alcohol soaked and most likely smelled like dirty balls. I tossed grass into the woods, mowed fields and sweat out most of the alcohol by the end of the day. After drinking about two gallons of water, I hobbled into the fancy-schmancy beach house bathroom that was the size of my old room. I stood under the steam, body languid and strained. The water hit my shoulders just enough to ease the pain, but the pressure made me think about how good it would feel to have a back massage.
Having your best friend admit their feelings; was overwhelming and confusing. I loved Leo, but did I love him in a friendship kind of way? There was no doubt the sexual tension between us has compounded. Puberty and countless drunken nights of pushing boundaries and it was bound to happen. I just wish more people understood that.
Yeah, maybe I let my dick to the thinking. I wanted to fuck Alyssa. It was wrong and messed up, but it was what I wanted. But she was a stranger. Shit, I knew her as Lyss before I knew her as ‘Kostas’ fiancé’. But I also wanted Leo, and in a moment of weakness and need (I will admit) I sought the one person guaranteed to support me.
Leo was my best friend, and the problem with these blurred sexual lines was- where do you draw that line… between friendship and love? I don’t think I wanted a relationship with Leo. I don’t think I wanted a relationship at all. And now, I wanted to sleep. I prayed for sleep as the hours slid by.
Giving up, I sat up and pulled my phone off the nightstand. I texted Nate and asked if you knew anyone that could help me find something to help with ‘sleep and/or anxiety’ issues. He didn’t take long to text back with a forwarded contact titled ‘ouid man’. I laughed and texted the number. Maybe I would finally get to sleep.
I pulled on some grey sweats and a white tee. I grabbed my favourite black beanie from the lamp I had now dubbed ‘the hat spot’. I jogged down Marina Ave, close to the beach house. The guy gave me an address of a seafood restaurant, and I grabbed some food before the exchange. A pile of clam strips and lobster tails later, a tall dark-skinned dude, approached my picnic table. “You J?”
“Yup, Casper?” I squinted against the high wind that was coming in from the sea.
“What up.” I licked the ketchup off my thumb and wiped it with a napkin. I outstretched my hand to him. He shook it firmly and took a seat.
He grabbed my fountain soda and took the extra cup that was attached. He dropped something inside and stood, making his way to the serving window, and grabbed a lid. Placing the lid on top, he walked back over to the table and slid the cup to me.
