haven’t been myself. In fact, the man who stares back at me in the mirror at times is unrecognizable. Weakness, a trait I’m not familiar with, lurks around every corner. So when Stella appeared, like a fucking ethereal angel at the mouth of my office, weakness won over. I wanted to take comfort in her, indulge in the woman who I’ve lusted after for years. After many nights imagining the taste of her flesh and taking care of business myself, I snapped.
No doubt, I wanted her, finally giving into the temptation that has nipped at my heels for six agonizing years. No other woman could distract. No amount of work could smother my feelings. No matter what I tried, the same result.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing could stop me from wanting Stella. Then I allowed the lesser of my two heads to make a choice that could never be undone. If a guy had treated Zoe the way that I treated Stella, I would have gladly beaten the shit out of him.
“Fuck!” I hiss again, abruptly swerving into the exit lane of the next stop that I see. I jerk the car to an uneven stop in a gas station. Reaching up, I bash a closed fist into the steering wheel, releasing another round of expletives.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do next. For the first time in my life, I literally ran from a problem that I created of my own volition. For the first time in my life, I want to take comfort in a woman, and I doubt that she’ll ever speak to me again after the way I behaved.
Buzzing from the center console on my phone startles me out of my thoughts. Zoe calling…
My plan forms instantaneously. First and foremost, I must take care of my sister in her time of need. Once the dust settles, I’ll apologize to Stella. I have no time for a relationship anyway.
Right, keep telling yourself you don’t want to see her, buddy.
Stella
A blur of yellow passes in front of my bleary eyes. I let out a strangled yelp and clamber into the backseat when the taxi halts a few feet ahead of me. The driver grunts his acknowledgment after I rattle off my address, not too far from the city mansion full of bitter memories. Fumbling through my purse with cold-tipped fingers, I dig out my phone and thumb a text to Violet, asking what she’s doing. Max has a shift at the station, leaving her home alone.
As the cab idles outside the condominium building, my cell phone vibrates with an incoming call from Violet. I hand the driver cash, muttering for him to keep the change as I wedge the device under my ear.
“Hi.” I’m hoarse, a subdued version of myself under the weight of heartache.
“Can I safely assume it didn’t go well at Zoe’s?”
I shoulder into the building, climbing docilely up the stairs to my second story place.
“Worse than I could have imagined,” I mumble into the phone as I shoulder my way inside my home. The mellow blue-green walls do nothing to calm me. Shrugging off my coat, I notice a tightness in my chest that was not there this morning.
“Putting my jacket on now, grabbing a bottle of wine, and I’ll be over. Order some takeout,” Violet commands and clicks off the line before I have time to argue. Despite my stunted synapses, I manage to use my computer to get us pizza, though the rock lodged in my gut will probably prevent me from ever desiring food again.
I rip my sweater over my head, swivel out of the jeans, and toss my underwear into the hamper. The temperature of the shower water reaches scalding before I step behind the curtain. I wrench a bar of soap across my body, scrubbing away the remnants of Blake.
In all my fantasies about Blake, I never imagined that after we made love I’d want him off me. In my mind, I saw myself calm, sated, and sprawled against his broad chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my back. The reality of the situation is ugly, demeaning, and almost too painful to recount. I scrub and scrub until my skin is an angry, puckering pink. Maybe if I wash hard enough, this
No doubt, I wanted her, finally giving into the temptation that has nipped at my heels for six agonizing years. No other woman could distract. No amount of work could smother my feelings. No matter what I tried, the same result.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing could stop me from wanting Stella. Then I allowed the lesser of my two heads to make a choice that could never be undone. If a guy had treated Zoe the way that I treated Stella, I would have gladly beaten the shit out of him.
“Fuck!” I hiss again, abruptly swerving into the exit lane of the next stop that I see. I jerk the car to an uneven stop in a gas station. Reaching up, I bash a closed fist into the steering wheel, releasing another round of expletives.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do next. For the first time in my life, I literally ran from a problem that I created of my own volition. For the first time in my life, I want to take comfort in a woman, and I doubt that she’ll ever speak to me again after the way I behaved.
Buzzing from the center console on my phone startles me out of my thoughts. Zoe calling…
My plan forms instantaneously. First and foremost, I must take care of my sister in her time of need. Once the dust settles, I’ll apologize to Stella. I have no time for a relationship anyway.
Right, keep telling yourself you don’t want to see her, buddy.
Stella
A blur of yellow passes in front of my bleary eyes. I let out a strangled yelp and clamber into the backseat when the taxi halts a few feet ahead of me. The driver grunts his acknowledgment after I rattle off my address, not too far from the city mansion full of bitter memories. Fumbling through my purse with cold-tipped fingers, I dig out my phone and thumb a text to Violet, asking what she’s doing. Max has a shift at the station, leaving her home alone.
As the cab idles outside the condominium building, my cell phone vibrates with an incoming call from Violet. I hand the driver cash, muttering for him to keep the change as I wedge the device under my ear.
“Hi.” I’m hoarse, a subdued version of myself under the weight of heartache.
“Can I safely assume it didn’t go well at Zoe’s?”
I shoulder into the building, climbing docilely up the stairs to my second story place.
“Worse than I could have imagined,” I mumble into the phone as I shoulder my way inside my home. The mellow blue-green walls do nothing to calm me. Shrugging off my coat, I notice a tightness in my chest that was not there this morning.
“Putting my jacket on now, grabbing a bottle of wine, and I’ll be over. Order some takeout,” Violet commands and clicks off the line before I have time to argue. Despite my stunted synapses, I manage to use my computer to get us pizza, though the rock lodged in my gut will probably prevent me from ever desiring food again.
I rip my sweater over my head, swivel out of the jeans, and toss my underwear into the hamper. The temperature of the shower water reaches scalding before I step behind the curtain. I wrench a bar of soap across my body, scrubbing away the remnants of Blake.
In all my fantasies about Blake, I never imagined that after we made love I’d want him off me. In my mind, I saw myself calm, sated, and sprawled against his broad chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my back. The reality of the situation is ugly, demeaning, and almost too painful to recount. I scrub and scrub until my skin is an angry, puckering pink. Maybe if I wash hard enough, this
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