Because I dream about my girl non-stop. Dreams where we fucked so meaningfully that I’d awaken feeling both sick to my stomach and with a boner so painfully hard I’d jack myself off like a horny teenage boy. And to my horror, I’d then feel compelled to text Janie and set up a date with her. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d sworn to stay away from the brunette for her own good as well as mine, and yet here I was, doing the exact opposite of what I’d planned.
But it just kept happening over and over again. I’d dream about Janie, and then wake-up ravenous for her. So I’d schedule a date, and every time I’d resolve not to be such an open book. To keep my heart under wraps. But every time I failed: something about her made the avalanche of emotions start. And then we’d fuck, her large, round thighs tight around my waist, her giant tits swaying against my torso, her lips lovingly on mine, always coming together. It was earth-shatteringly, soul-destroyingly, terrifyingly hot, earnest and real. And every time I’d be left feeling naked, ashamed, terrified. And then the cycle would start up again. I’d ignore her for a few days, go on a date with Amy, and “pretend” I was normal. But inevitably, I’d miss Janie again and we’d go another date ending in sex.
So it’s been going on like this for six months now. I tell Cole about it on the phone, but he hasn’t been worried because I haven’t had more PTSD episodes. It’s because of Janie. I know it in my heart. But how can I do this to her? She deserves someone a thousand times better than me.
My phone vibrates and my eyes go wide. I expect it to be Cole because we’re due for a chat. But it’s not – it’s a text from Janie. This is the first time she’s contacting me. It’s not how we’ve been doing things. I hesitate a moment, then pick up my cell to read the text.
I’m lying in bed trying to focus on some homework when I hear Amy come home. We haven’t really seen much of each other the last six months or so, although we live together. To be honest, ever since I subbed for her the night I met Brent I’ve felt like she’s avoiding me. But why? It’s starting to become uncomfortable to be honest. She doesn’t know I’ve been seeing Brent, and I feel awful about it. I don’t know. I should tell my roommate, but it just seems so awkward.
Then there was that party last week. It kind of looked like Brent and Amy were at the shindig together, but it was really crowded, loud, and hard to tell. Maybe it was my imagination. Who knows?
I hear her pour a glass of water in the kitchen and on a whim I get up out of bed and leave my room. She must have heard me coming, because she’s already halfway down the hallway.
“Amy?” I call out hesitantly. I hear her stop in her tracks.
“Hey,” she answers from down her hall. I can’t see her face, but I can tell. She’s uncomfortable too. I resolve to put this behind us once and for all.
“What’s up?” she asks, having retraced her steps and reappearing in the common room. Her body language is tense. She’s unsure what this is about.
“Can we talk?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she says with a cheerful smile. But the woman doesn’t move from the hallway, so I sit down on the sofa, which prompts her to reluctantly do the same.
“Are we – okay?” I ask her hesitatantly. She nods, not meeting my eyes.
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I dunno, I just feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately,” I try.
“Me? I feel like it’s the other way around,” she says, a little snappy. What the hell is this about?
“Look, Ames,” I start, heart pounding in my throat. I hate confrontations. “I feel like this goes back to when I subbed for you with that double date. With Brent.” She shrugs, avoiding eye contact. I swallow, uncomfortable.
“Have I somehow upset you?” I ask her genuinely. She rolls her eyes, running her hand through her hair in frustration.
“No,” she says. “At least not on purpose.”
“What?” I ask her. Then she meets my eyes for the first time.
“Look – I know you fucked Brent during that date,” she says, looking at me squarely. My blood runs cold. “Right there, in the movie theater. Hillary and Randy saw you guys, okay?” Shame engulfs me and I feel my face flush. I can’t reply.
“They just didn’t want to say anything,” she continues. “Hillary was pretty grossed out and shocked, to be honest. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But then later, Hillary came out into the foyer, because she noticed you were both missing. And she saw Brent on his knees, sobbing into your lap.”