Fight 3 by M Dauphin

of.
    “Listen, my name is Eddie, since we never had a real introduction. Here’s my key. I was heading to the gym. If you decide that you want a more comfortable, safe spot to sleep, head on in. Just don’t steal anything...I know where you live.” I grin and hand her the key. Stupid, maybe, that I feel as if I can trust this random girl with all of my belongings, but something tells me she is the most trustworthy person I’ve met in a long time.
    ***
    Gasping for air, I sit up straight in bed.
    “NO!” I yell to the empty room.
    At least I thought it was empty.
    “Fucking Christ, Eddie!” I hear her voice before I see her. Then I’m hit with the pillow I assume she was sleeping on.
    Smells good, almost familiar.
    Interesting.
    “Woah, sorry. God, stop glaring at me!” I yell back at her. She’s sitting up on the couch, one hand over her heart and the other over her baby bump.
    Shit this must be her. My fiancé.
    “Hey.” I try to smile, but I can’t figure out why I’d smile at her. Something tells me to smile at her. Something tells me to be nice to her, but that’s not about to happen.
    “Hi,” she says hesitantly. “Sorry I threw my pillow at you.” She laughs.
    That laugh. There’s something nagging in the back of my mind about that laugh.
    I shake it off, these meds are making me crazy.
    “SOOO... how’s it goin?” I ask awkwardly.
    I’ve never been awkward in front of a woman before. This is insane, Eddie!
    This chick could be incredibly fucking hot, but I don’t screw pregnant people. Something about the thought of poking the baby with my dick really fucking turns me off. I know it really doesn’t happen that way, but no thanks, not for me.
    “I’m trying to sleep. This couch is really uncomfortable, though. I don’t know how Tatum and Molly slept on this thing for so long,” she grumbles and stands up, stretching out.
    Jesus, those tattoos are exquisite. A full sleeve, practically anyway, covers her left arm. She has some on her collarbone from what I can see, and a scrawling scene wrapping around the top part of her thigh, but I’m sure that’s not all she has. Shit just watching her stretch has parts of me waking up that hasn’t been awake in months.
    I clear my throat and adjust myself without her noticing, but the shit-eating grin she just gave me out of the side of her eyes tells me she didn’t miss it.
    “Wait, who’s Molly?”  I have a feeling I’m going to be asking a lot of these types of questions and it really pisses me off.
    “Oh, um... Tatum’s Wife”
    “WIFE!?” I yell. “WHAT THE FUCK, HE’S MARRIED?!”
    “Eddie, you were the best man in his wedding. They’ve been married... oh, five or six months now.”
    “Shit! That hag was never going to settle down!”
    “Hag?! Who are you?!” She laughs at my word usage, but I don’t back down.
    “Yes, Hag. He’s an old hag. And now I guess he has one to keep him company.”
    “Shut the fuck up. Right now. You shut your fucking mouth and listen to me.” She suddenly is standing right next to the bed, her familiar scent flowing off of her, her red hair pulled into a messy... thing... on the top of her head.
    “Listening,” I say sarcastically.
    “I love you, Tex. See this ring?” She holds up a massive ruby ring on her ring finger. Fuck I bought that?! No fucking way! “You gave me this ring the day you got in the accident. Just hours before. About an hour or so before we found out that I’m carrying your fucking child. It’s a girl, by the way. I’ve been keeping up with EVERYTHING while you have been sleeping away, apparently forgetting all about me and the life you said you wanted so fucking badly. I’m not giving up on you, Eddie. I’m pissed you don’t even seem like you’re trying, though. You could at least try to remember the things you loved so dearly.”
    Her voice went from angry to sad, ending with the quietest sob I’ve ever heard.
    See, this is why I don’t do relationships.