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I’ve been quiet for too long, because Cleo looks up at me. “Well? How would you want to do it? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
I close my eyes. Relax. Tell the truth. She’s my girlfriend, I can trust her.
“You…on top,” I answer.
“On top?” A soft laugh. “You want me to do all the work?”
Yes. That way I can relax.
“I think it’d be hot.” With my eyes closed, I can sink into the darkness, and the scene appears before my eyes. “I’d like it if you were…”
“What?”
“Bossy,” I finish.
Cleo props herself up on her side.
“Do you want to be dominated or something?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. The moment stretches into a minute, two minutes of silence.
“I think missionary could be romantic too,” I finally say.
Cleo kisses my shoulder, then my neck. “Do you have a condom?” she whispers.
*
Two hours later, Cleo sleeps beside me, facing the wall. I stare at the ceiling.
There are footsteps. Lucas. I didn’t realise he’d still be awake. A door sliding open. A door closing. The rush of the shower, the noise muted by walls and closed doors.
Fuck it. I can’t sleep, and I know I won’t be able to any time soon. I get up and pull my pyjamas on, then roll up the towel that Cleo and I used to clean up. When I leave my bedroom, I gently close the door behind me as to not wake up Cleo.
After stuffing the towel into the washing machine, I fix myself a glass of water from the kitchen and lean against the bench.
A song’s playing in the bathroom. Lucas hums along to it occasionally, his voice low and deep. Huh. I didn’t realise he was the type to listen to music as he showered — he’s never done it before, at least not when I’m around. He’s always been in and out, quick and efficient.
I don’t recognise the song, and the lyrics are obscured by the shower, but the melody is slow, sad. Maybe one of Lucas’s hookups dumped him. Maybe that’s why he was so sensitive the other day, pushing me into the couch and ranting about how he could have anyone he wants, how no one ever leaves him.
The song, along with his humming, makes him seem so vulnerable. Add in the fact that he’s naked in there, and it feels voyeuristic, violative to listen in. My gut twinges until I realise something even more horrifying: I can hear him. I can hear Lucas, even with the shower blasting. Does that mean…has he ever heard me when I’ve been having my…alone time?
The apartment goes quiet, enough that I can hear the fridge humming. Lucas has finished his shower.
I shake my head. No, there’s no way that Lucas has overheard me masturbating, and it’s not just wishful thinking. Lucas is the worst, and that means he’d take any opportunity to make fun of me. Me masturbating isn’t an exception.
I must use a higher shower pressure than Lucas, which makes more noise and drowns out any sound. That’s it. That’s the answer.
Despite my relief, I’m frowning again. That’s because thinking about jerking off makes me think about sex, which makes me think about Cleo—
Lucas opens the door. He’s wearing pyjamas, and his hair is wet, and when he sees me, his brows jump up.
“You’re still awake?” he asks after a moment, voice gruff.
“You are too.”
He grunts, heading to his bedroom.
