Fragments (25 page)

“Well, if she ever became single and I could guarantee that her brother wouldn’t spear my nuts into a moving truck, I would tap that,” Ty muses.

“Dude! She’s like a sister!” I growl, “No way!”

He rolls his eyes and looks at me directly. “Pfft. Sister? Who are you bullshitting? Me or you? She was never that, and especially to
you.
As much of a chick as I’m gonna sound, she should be with
you.
”

My throat becomes parched as his words sink in. She meant so much to me and I had screwed it up. How the bloody hell am I going to cope living with her? She is temptation incarnate. She also can’t stand me.

I’m not proud of how I behaved. But back then, as a twenty-year-old, I did what most angry, hot-blooded young men would do … I went out, drank, and screwed around. A lot. It feels like karma is laughing her ass off at me now.
Here, now you’re twenty-four, go out and drown your sorrows in women … Oh, look, here comes the one you want but you can’t have who’s now going to live with you. Sucked in, wanker.

I’d needed a distraction. Something blond or redheaded … never a brunette. I tried it once and afterwards, the guilt ricocheted through me.

I straighten my shoulders and turn to the side, surveying the area. Ty can tell from my body language that I am done with this conversation. Scanning the room, it’s easy to pick the single girls; they dress up more—or wore less, really—and they scope the room with their eyes like beady eagles. I know it won’t take long.

Soon enough, I make eye contact with a couple of blondes who are sitting across from me at another bench seat. She and her friend begin giving us small smiles and gesturing towards us, giggling at each other. Shortly after they come over, have a few drinks, and as much as I know I am probably going to go home with one of them, Ty’s conversation dragged me down. I need to speed things up. I place my hand on her leg and lean in closer to speak to her, using my smile and winks to charm her. I see interest spark in her eyes, yet it wasn’t until I come out of the bathroom later that she was suddenly in front of me, and as luck would have it, so is her friend. Both had seemed keen, grabbing me and pushing me against the nearest wall. So, in less than two hours of meeting them, one is rubbing against me while the other is palming my crotch, telling me to take them home. A package deal. Sweet pickings, all right. Distraction is achieved.

              I am part of the urban legend of guys who don’t settle while surrounded by eager girls who hope that they can ‘change me.’ It's not breaking news that I pick up regularly. Sure, I’ve had a few short relationships, one even lasting six months, but as soon as they started giving me the doe eyes, I was out. I don’t do commitment. Instead, I come here regularly to unwind. I never lead them on to believe any different, but some still try to burn my balls afterwards.

Robbie’s apartment means it is just a short tram ride away. Enough for us to continue working each other up, or for them to back out. If they back out at the last minute, it is no sweat. I just go home. In fact, I kind of hope they do. 

Thump, thump

Thump, thump

I stare at my bed head. I’ve forgotten again to move my new bed away from the wall.
Thump, thump
. Maybe if I move my body down without getting out, it might slide the bed down? It’s going to chip into the wall if I’m not careful, and Robbie would absolutely kill me. This house is his pride and joy and being his trusty housemate, there is no way that he’d like me dinting it.

“Oh, my God! Yes! Right there! Alex, harder, harder!” 

Looking down, I realise I have drifted off again. What is it with these chicks tonight? They can only hold my attention for five minutes.

“Is that good, baby?” I coo, continuing to thrust inside of her.

“Yes! Keep going, I’m almost there!” she screams. 

Grabbing onto her hip, I am already keen for this to end. Sure, it feels good, but I’m tired. Hitching her hips higher, I thrust deeper and harder as I feel my climax approaching.

“That is so hot!”

The girl on the other side of her moans, touching herself while she watches us. Closing my eyes, I clench my eyelids shut as I focus on the sensation and as I feel it hit, I let out a groan and squeeze her hips tight. A few more thrusts, she continues panting, and then her face clenches and she shouts, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I wind down my thrusts and wait a moment before I pull out. She looks up at me with a weak smile, her lipstick smeared across her lips. I cringe, wondering how much of that shit I’m going to have all over my face or my dick. Considering I have two women in my bed, I bet I’m covered completely in that sticky shit.

I offer a fake smile and roll off, while being careful to take the condom with me. Orgasm, my ass. Least the other girl didn’t fake it. I know when a woman fakes it, and that was fake. Faker than her fake tanned skin. Is that coconut oil? Are we in the 80s?
Pity she can’t act for shit. The arsehole in me isn’t caring, either; her loss. I’m just so fucking tired. Why did I bring them both home? Two of them? Bloody hell.

              Heading into the bathroom, I keep a listen out to see if either are moving out of the bed. I can hear faint rustling, but no big movement. Bugger. Seems like they’re getting comfortable. That bed is not big enough for all three of us, and even if it were, I don’t want them here. Normally, if I have a one-nighter, I don’t care if they stay—provided they leave in the morning—but I’m feeling particularly pissed still. I need time to think and process. Freaking Robbie and his bullshit news. 

Once I enter the bathroom, I shut and lock the door. There have been times when I went to do my thing and the chick I’ve brought home thought it would be ‘nice’ to surprise me and continue the shenanigans. Hell no. A man needs time alone; I can sort my own junk out.

Disposing of the reminder next to the other used reminders of emotionless sex; I glance in the mirror and cringe. Pink and red lipstick are smeared along my lips, cheek, and jaw. It looks like a toddler has finger-painted my face. I grab a face washer and after putting the hand soap on it, I wet it and start to scrub. I feel like a clown. Why do women cover their faces in this crap?

              Finishing up, I open the door and head back into my bedroom. The luxury of Robbie being away means that I can travel naked to and fro to my room.

Both women are still on the bed, one is already under the covers with the main sheet under her armpits while the other is sitting up, leaning forward slightly in the bed, not caring that I can see her tits. I suppose all modesty goes after you’ve been in a threesome. Both have knowing smiles on their faces, and their tangled hair shows the effects of having a great time.

I stroll back in, and think about the night. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve forgotten their names. Shit. Not again. Not just one, but both. Groaning at my stupid mistake, I walk over to my jeans and put them on. I needed them out, and I needed it without causing any casualties to my nether regions.

              Looking back over my bed, the one with the short blond hair clutches the sheet up to her chest while tilting her head to the side and giving me a coy grin. I’m done. Now to get rid of them so I can sleep. Pity I’m not in the mood for another round, as she has a rocking body.

“So, um …” She giggles.
Ugh
. I hate gigglers. “Did you want us to stay?” she says, holding the sheet closer to herself, gesturing to her friend while getting comfortable. I give her and her blond friend a kind smile and shake my head,

“I’m sorry, darlin’, but I have an early start tomorrow at a workshop. Afraid I’m going to send you both on your way. I’ll call you ladies a taxi, though …” I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out my phone. As I go to put it against my ear, she growls and flicks the sheet back across her body, jumping out of bed and grabbing her scattered clothes.

“You’re such an arsehole!” she yells. “Can’t believe you’re kicking me out!” 

I hold my arms out and laugh, shaking my head. “Hold on there,” I try to placate her. “You knew the deal, and if anything, you came onto ME.”

Her friend flicks the sheet back and stomps over to me. “You used us!”

She scans the room for her clothes that are alongside her friend. Bimbo one pulls up her skanky red panties while Bimbo two throws her shirt on back to front all the while giving me an incessant lecture about me being a ‘man whore’, ‘arsehole’, and really every other angry word she can think of. I make the call to the taxi company and stand there with my arms folded across my chest, waiting for the tirade to stop.

They both give me the finger as they eventually leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I know that I’m an arsehole, but right now I am too tired to give a shit. I peel my jeans off and climb back into bed naked.

“You piece of shit … You are a worthless piece of shit … Come ‘ere so I can knock some sense into you! You’re worthless … You are just like … me.”

Clutching my chest, I sit up suddenly in bed, my heart beating erratically. I struggle to breathe and have to take in long deep breaths to slow down.
Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale.
Another bloody nightmare.

I continue breathing deeply until my chest releases and is no longer a vice. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on anything to avoid remembering his voice. The lake, football … boobs, anything.

Sweat pours down my back and chest as I tear the sheet off and stand up. I march to the kitchen and reach for a glass to grab a drink of water, but my hand shakes too much. I turn the tap on at the kitchen sink and dunk my head to drink from the tap while wetting my face and neck. My skin is on fire and the cool water calms me down. Taking a few more gulps, I stand up and turn off the tap.

I refuse to go and look at myself in the mirror. I know my face will be pale with my haggard hair and pained eyes. I will see similarities to him. I close my eyes shut as his voice is still fresh in my head, taunting me with glimpses of my past. I want to feel whole again but after four long years, it’s hard to be.

              The gentle patter of rain on the roof soon distracts me, and automatically my body begins to calm. The rain reminds me of Bea, and being in Melbourne, where it rains a lot, I think of her often. At times like this, however, thoughts of her are what I need. It’s a bittersweet feeling. It reminds me of what I had and what I stupidly threw away without giving it a chance to begin. Her eyes, hair, and mouth haunt my dreams. No one has come even close to how I felt when I was with her.

As the rain falls, I remember our different times together and what it felt like to be with her. When she nursed my broken body and soothed me as I slept, or on our runs where we strived to be the best of ourselves. The memory that burns and lingers of us still takes residence in my dreams. Our naked bodies, our intertwined fingers, and soft words all replay in my mind like on a movie reel where no scene is forgotten. The punishment I get for letting her go.

That time together evoked a calmness that I haven’t felt since. How she made me feel as she gazed at me. I was whole, I wasn’t worthless, and I felt loved.

It’s tragic how fear can make you act like an idiot in the worst way possible. I know I pushed her away and into Kyle’s arms. The thought of her touching someone else and giving him her smiles, her lips, and her body while they touch makes me want to tear apart furniture.

There were times that Robbie would bring her into conversation and talk about Kyle, and I would concentrate on counting things around me just to ignore his words. Piss poor activity, but it’s all I have. I couldn’t bear to hear about her happiness. I wanted her to be well, but her pleasure with another guy … forced my mind into reclusion. 

This rain was punishing me and saving me. Or perhaps it was saving her from me. Standing by the spare room, I flick the light and gaze inside. It’s empty, apart from a dark curtain.  She will soon be sleeping here and I will be across the hall … She will be here on her bed, sleeping in her band T-shirts, with her arms around Kyle, while I will be across the hall. I can see our water bill going up with all the cold showers I’m going to have to take. Then it hits me.
I’m too late. She’s in love with someone else.
What did I expect?

Why do I have the feeling that friendship will be the last thing on my mind?

“I will follow you as far as is allowed me,

He replied: “and if the smoke prevents us seeing,

Hearing will keep us in touch instead”

Purgatory XVI
; lines 34–37

Trice

“You know you love me,” Kyle coos.

“Yeah, of course, honey, to the moon and back and all that jazz.” Holding my phone closer to my ear, I scuttle around my apartment, packing last-minute items. I hate packing. What a joke. I have Kyle to thank for that. All the big stuff is ready; I just have knick-knacks left around the place.

“So, tell me how much I’m your favourite person right now?” he whispers, seductively.

I roll my eyes. “You aren’t.”

“But you said you loved me,” he sniffs.

“Kyle, as much as I do love you, you are not my favourite person right now. I have to pack all these boxes because of you. I have to uproot my life and go live with my brother whenever he decides to resurface, and then there’s Alex—”