Excitement and Misery
I yawned and stretched as the covers tangled around my legs and the rest of me remained exposed. My eyes were shut because the sun was blaring, but I felt his feather-like kissings against the skin of my left breast before they trailed up my chest and neck. I giggled as he snuggled beneath my jaw and his prickly stubble rubbed against my skin. His arm draped over my waist and he gave me a gentle squeeze that caused me to giggle some more.
"Mornin'," he whispered against my cheek before kissing it and kissing my lips in one swift movement. I sighed in content as his skin warmed my own before he pulled away to my dismay.
"Good mornin'," I all but sang as I purred. I heard him chuckle lightly and my eyes fluttered open, taking in the sun and the sight of his beautiful face. He was still smiling at me like the nerd he was and I found it so endearing. His eyes seemed to be a brighter blue than normal and sparkled in the morning glow.
"I'm surprised to see you here," Justin said, almost ruining our dreamy moment with the reality of us. I just shrugged it off, not wanting to think about the many times I've dogged him out, and smiled.
"Well, are you happy to see me?" I asked with a small smirk.
"Of course," he said sweetly, "How could I not be?"
I smiled. "Exactly. So, let's not worry about anything else." Rather anyone. My night with Shane ended on a sour note when one of his female associates called him when were about to have sex. Mid-kiss, he ran to get his phone. I was as angry as I was hurt and ended up cussing him out after I grabbed his phone and threw it against our bedroom wall, watching it shatter into a million little pieces.
Just like my heart.
He yelled and claimed I was paying him for the phone. I told him to fuck off and drove to Justin's without a second thought. I was nervous, so I didn't give him a chance to yell at me for abandoning him earlier that night. I simply attacked his lips with mine and stuck my hands into his boxer briefs. It was all it took to have him right where I needed him and I was grateful. I needed his loving. I needed his touch. I needed to feel wanted since Shane had left me so dejected.
And Justin gave me all of that and more. He always does, but last night seemed to be so much more than any other night. Call me a liar if you please, but I mean it. Last night he took it slow. Slow. He's usually rough when he's angry with me, but last night, despite the fact that he should've slammed me against the wall and pulled my hair, he undressed me gently and kissed every inch of my body until his lips reached my forehead and he whispered that he forgave me. I know that he's forgiven me a million times before, but it was always an unspoken understanding. To actually hear him say that he did was a whole other thing. I almost cried. I wasn't worthy of his forgiveness or anything else, for that matter.
I guess that's why I stayed. I had woken up around ten and was ready to leave, but I turned my head before I slipped out of the bed and there he was, snoring lightly and smiling softly in his sleep. I couldn't leave him. Not after he forgave me. Letting him wake up to me was the least that I could do.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked in a whisper as he stared down at me. His head was now propped up by his hand while he lazily dragged a finger of his free hand about my upper body.
"You," I answered honestly.
"What about me?" He smiled in a devious way and I laughed.
"You are so nasty," I said.
"Yes, I am," he replied, "But, really, what's up?"
"Nothing. . ." I lied.
"I don't believe you," he told me.
"Fine by me." Justin sighed and gave me one of those stubborn looks of his.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently and I rolled my eyes.
"Do you really want to know?" I asked.
"I wouldn't have questioned you if I didn't."
"Fine," I said before looking up at the ceiling, trying to avoid his gaze, "Shane and I had a fight."
"No surprise there."
I couldn't argue. "I broke his phone."
"Really?"
"Yeah. . ." I sighed, "I just. . , threw it. He got all mad and he yelled. I yelled. We yelled together. Then I came here."
"That doesn't surprise me either." He sounded sad about that fact and before I knew it, he was out of bed, slipping on his boxer briefs.
"Where are you going?" He slauntered over to his bureau and opened up a drawer.
"I'm gonna take a shower," he replied absentmindedly. I could practically feel the drop in temperature because of the cold shoulder he was starting to give me, so I tried to lighten the mood.
"Care for some company?" Justin glanced over his shoulder and I smiled suggestively with a raised brow. He frowned and I was confused, but I still slipped from underneath the covers and walked over towards him.
"Rese. . ." Justin sighed when I wrapped my arms around him from behind and pressed my lips to the freckled skin of his back. I smirked when I heard the familiar nickname and kissed his back again.
"What's wrong?" I asked instinctively when he stopped my hands from roaming his abs and chest area by firmly gripping my wrists.
"Look, I. . ." He trailed off and my brows furrowed with a mixture of frustration and confusion.
"You what?" Instead of answering me, he pulled away completely and practically ran back to the bed. I watched as he frantically gathered my clothes before shoving them against me.
"You have to go." He refused to meet my gaze as he twisted his hands nervously.
"What?" I asked. "Why?"
"Because. . ." He sighed again. "I can't. . . I can't do this anymore."
"Justin, what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about us," he said quickly. "You have to go."
"Jus-"
"Listen, I don't know when I'm ever gonna get the courage to do this again, so please, just leave."
"Are you high?" He rolled his eyes like it was the most preposterous thing he ever heard.
"Teresa, please," he pleaded, "If you care about me just a little bit, you'll leave." I stared at him quietly until he was staring back at me. His eyes were wide and worried, and I could see the sadness mixed in.
"Do you really want that?" I asked. "Do you really want me to go?" He licked his lips and took in deep breaths. I clutched my clothes against my body and waited patiently. He was going to say no. I know he is.
"Of course I don't want you to go, Teresa," he said and I smiled. "But, damn it, I need you to." My grin flattered immediately and I tried not to look as sad as I felt.
"But I stayed," I said, "I stayed for you."
"One morning out of a million isn't something to be proud of," Justin said.
"But it's something good, right?" I asked. "I could've left you."
"And you have."
"I didn't today."
"Today, you stayed," Justin confirmed, "But what about tomorrow? What about the day after that or two weeks from now? Will you be there?" I shrugged.
"I don't know," I answered honestly.
"Well, neither do I," Justin said, "And I can't live like that. I can't keep waking up alone."
"Justin, come on," I whined, "Where am I suppose to go? Shane isn't speaking to me after what happened last night and I. . . I don't have anywhere to go."
"You have plenty of friends," Justin reasoned, "You can stay with them."
"I want to stay with you."
"You can't," Justin said firmly. "Just get dressed and leave."
"What if I don't?" I questioned, stubbornly placing a hand on my bare hip and waiting for his response.
"Teresa. . ."
"I'm serious, Justin," I told him, "What if I don't?"
"You have no choice," he said, "Either you leave or-"
"Or what?" I interrupted.
"Or I'm dragging your ass outta here."
"Yeah right," I said, "I could take you."
"Fine, but I have three, butch ass body guards that I'm sure you couldn't handle on your best day." I narrowed my eyes at him and he stared at me blankly. He was trying to be stubborn and firm, but it wasn't working. His eyes were showing his weakness and I knew that he wanted to cave in.
"Okay," I said, "I'll leave." He looked relieved and disappointed as I held my clothes and bag in one hand and made my way towards him.
"Teresa," Justin said when I reached up to caress his face.
"What?" I asked, "I can't even give you a kiss on the cheek?" He searched my eyes before leaning down a bit and offering me his cheek. I pressed my lips to his cheek and then to the corner of his mouth. My hands dragged down his arms and rested on his slim hips when my lips touched his. At first, it was all me, but when I became more aggressive with the kiss, he fell right into it; holding the back of my neck with his right hand.
Then he pulled away suddenly, our lips separating with a light suction sound. His hands fell to his sides, but I kept my hands on his waist.
"You don't miss a good thing until it's gone," he whispered to the floor he was staring at. I furrowed my brows and smiled awkwardly.
"What?" I asked. He took my hands from his waist and placed them at my sides before he backed away. His eyes were focused on my own and they were much more defiant than before.
"You can get dressed in here," he said, backing up towards his master bathroom, "You know the way out."
"But-" He slammed the bathroom door shut and I could hear it lock behind him. I rolled my eyes at how childish that move was and quickly put on my clothes. I hung around for a few minutes afterward, hoping he'd emerge from the bathroom without me having to beg him too. Despite the fact that I was in the wrong, I did have pride. A little too much pride, actually. I would rather stand out there for a million years than knock on that door and beg him to open up.
I guess Justin was just as proud as me because that door stayed closed for seventeen minutes after I was dressed. Yes, I counted, but it was all I could do as I stood in that quiet room and waited. I finally gave up, grabbed my purse from where I left it on his bed, and rolled out of there. I slammed his door so hard behind me that I'm sure something fell and broke, but I didn't even care. I was too pissed off.
Why? I don't know. Maybe getting rejected twice in the last twenty-four hours is what had my pressure up, but whatever the hell it was, I was angry, that's for sure. Still, a part of me wanted to stay as I reversed out of my parking spot and revved up the engine before I sped down his spiraling driveway. I looked into my rearview mirror and watched as his mansion disappeared behind me and sighed.
Today was going to be one of those days.
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So, I kicked her out. I should be proud of myself for finally doing something, but when I look in the vanity mirror above my sink, I feel sick. Like I had done something wrong. But I was right, right? I did what I had to do because I was tired of the bullshit.
She had nowhere to go though. Should I have offered her a place to stay? A hotel? A mutual friend? No. . . That's not my problem. If she had broken up with Shane years ago, she wouldn't have a problem finding a place to stay. She would be here, living with me. Her loss, not mine. . . but why do I feel so sad?
"Boo!" I screamed when the voice came from nowhere and I damn near cut my face with my razor as Trace laughed and turned a bright shade of red. I glared at the little fucker and rolled my eyes.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked before turning back to the mirror and checking for bleeding.
"Dude, I was standing there for, like, twenty minutes. I could see you making all these faces at the mirror and not paying attention, so I did what any normal person would do."
"Normal is not in your vocabulary," I mumbled as I carefully removed a neat line of hair from my cheek, "What the hell are you doing here anyways?"
"Nothing, man," he said, "I'm just chillin' with my boy today." I smiled despite myself and cleaned beneath my chin.
"Cool," I said, "What's our plan for today?"
"Don't know," Trace said, taking a deep breath, "Where's your lady friend?" I cut my cheek the moment he asked that and hissed because of the burn.
"Shit," I whined, looking at the blood coming from the nick and mixing with the white foam, making it a pretty shade of pink.
"You alright?" Trace asked. I nodded.
"Could you grab me a small towel?" Trace kindly turned towards the closet beside the door and opened it wide. He found the pile of folded wash cloths and grabbed a pale green one before tossing it in my direction.
"So, where is she?" Trace asked again as I wet the towel and wiped off my face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
"Unless you where some fruity ass perfume, you know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Are you some type of hound?" I asked, "I can't smell a thing."
"'Cause the sex smell is covering it up," Trace said, "You were really going at it, weren't you?"
"Trace," I laughed, "You are so damn weird, man. Always sniffing for sex and perfume."
"Well, those are the two things I'm always smelling in here," he complained, "So, where is she?"
"I don't know," I answered honestly, "I kicked her out a while ago." The sick feeling returned to the pit of my stomach and I sighed.
"That's a good thing, man," Trace assured as if he read my mind, "Don't feel bad."
"She had nowhere to go."
"She always has a place to go," Trace said, "You should know that better than anyone." That was a blow to my ego and I'm sure Trace did it intentionally. He's not a big fan of the pussy-wiped behavior I've taken on since Teresa came about. He's also not a big fan of hers either.
"They had a hug fight last night. .. Well, this morning, anyway. She said he's not talking to her." Trace grunted.
"Don't they always fight?"
"Yeah, but she broke his phone this time," I said, "Seemed really big."
"Well, I hope he kicks her out or something."
"Trace," I reprimanded.
"Don't Trace me," he said, "She's dogging the hell out of you."
"I'm well aware of the fact that I'm being dogged," I stated, "But I don't want you wishing anything bad on her."
"I don't get you," Trace said, "You're always talking about how terrible she treats you and yet, here you are, defending her."
"She treats me like crap, yes, but respect the fact that I love the girl."
"For reason unknown," Trace muttered, "She's done nothing but hurt you."
"That's not true," I argued, "She's done more than that."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Trace said sarcastically, "She fucks really well, too."
"Trace. . ."
"Is it really that good?" Trace asked, "Does she have, like, a golden pussy or something majestic like that?" I narrowed my eyes at him.
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it?" he asked, "The only thing I ever hear, or smell, for that matter, is sex. That she's using you for sex. She left you after sex. She wants nothing, but sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex!"
"Will you stop yelling?!" I yelled before I huffed and angrily dried my face. "Look, I know I'm a fuckin' idiot and I know it seems like it's just sex, but it's not. Trace, you know me better than that. If all she was good for was sex, I would've dropped her a long ass time ago."
"Why do you love her, man?" Trace asked. "She's cheating on you every single day. She doesn't love you back. . . I mean, what are you still doing with her?"
"That's a lot of questions," I said.
"And you didn't give me a single answer," Trace countered, "That says a lot though." I held my towel up on my waist as I began to exit the bathroom, nudging Trace out of my way. I could hear him sigh and I felt bad for a moment. He was just doing his job as my best friend by being honest with me. By questioning my stupidity. I appreciated it as much as I hated it. I know how messed up this is. I don't need to be constantly reminded by everybody else that I'm a fool.
Why can't they understand that loving somebody is the hardest thing in the world? Especially when they can break your heart into a million pieces one minute and put it all back together the next?
"Trace, you wanted to chill, right?" I asked, digging through my drawer for my boxer briefs.
"Yeah, man," he said, "But I want to discuss this."
"Not now," I said.
"Then when?" Trace said, "The moment I mention anything about her, it's always 'not now'."
"I'm sorry, but I can't even talk to mom half the time," I told him, "I just need to think about it myself before I try and express myself to anybody else."
"Well, hurry up and think it over because I seriously need to know what's going on in that fucked up head of yours." He plopped down on the edge of my bed before quickly standing up and scowling at it.
"Ha. That's what you get," I taunted as I walked into my closest.
"That's the nastiest thing ever," Trace whined, "Got, I sat in your sex juice." I laughed heartily as I grabbed a pair of jeans and a polo from their hangers.
"Shut up," I chuckled, "Nobody asked you to sit your lazy ass down."
"My legs hurt."
"Those stumpy little things have to work twice as hard," I teased. He glared in my direction as I stepped out of the closest.
"I'm gonna let you slide," he said, "Get dressed quickly 'cause I'm starving." I nodded and he turned to walk away. That's when a thought passed through my mind and I smiled.
"Ew, Trace," I said, causing him to turn and look at me.
"What?" he asked.
"You've got a condom on your butt."
"Dude, what the fuck?" he complained, slapping his ass off and trying to turn and see it. I grinned and he looked up in time to catch me smiling like a baffoon.
"Ha. Ha."
"Come on," I said, "That was funny."
"That's disgusting."
"So is your face," I shot back. He flipped me off and headed out of the room. I just watched; a smile never leaving my face.
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I tapped my pen against the arm of the swivel chair I was sitting in. It was dark inside of the salon except for the light the vanity mirror provided with the millions of little light bulbs surrounding it. The glow illuminated the empty white page laying on the counter in front of me and seemed to make the nagging feeling of having to write something become stronger. I had yet to figure out what that something was as far as details, but I knew that I was trying to write an apology. It was hard. Like I mentioned before, I'm a very proud person, so apologizing isn't my forte. I figured that writing would be easier than actually vocalizing my feelings, but I'm wrong. Really wrong.
"Damn it," I groaned, slapping the pen down onto the paper and looking up into the mirror. My reflection was appalling because I was far from dolled up. No make up, bad hair, and a frown don't make the best combination, but it would have to do. I had no reason to get dolled up. I haven't spoken to Justin in two days and Shane is just ignoring me, which isn't really a big deal since it's basically been this way our whole relationship. It's Justin that has me all anxious and upset.
He actually kicked me out. Sure, he's asked me to leave before and at one point did try to lock my outside, but after a second of whining he let me in again. This time, he caged himself in his bathroom and didn't get out until I was long gone. Plus, he has called. As stubborn as he can be, he can only go twenty-four hours without calling to see if I'm alright.
It makes me wonder and when I wonder I get all bent out of shape. I worry and think of the worst possible scenarios imaginable for no good reason. . . I even thought that maybe Justin died. I went as far as browsing the magazine racks for a tabloid with the headliner. There was nothing there, of course, because I'm sure if Justin died somebody in his family would at least give me a ring and let me know.
"Are you going to sleep in here or what?" I turned in my chair and to my surprise, Shane was standing in the middle of the salon with a bouqet of white roses and keys in his hands. I looked at the floors and then at him. Maybe I was I dreaming.
"Shane?" I asked with uncertainty.
"I should hope so," he smiled, "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," I said, "I just wasn't expecting you."
"So. . . is this a good or bad surprise?"
"I don't know," I replied, "Depends on the reasoning."
"I've missed you," he told me, looking down at his feet. I smirked because he looked so shy and tried to take in his words. Him missing me was something so incredibly rare that I didn't exactly know how to respond.
"Are those for me?" I asked, referring to the roses in his hands.
"These?" he asked, raising them for me to see, "Nah. I picked these up for Mother Goose on my way down here." I giggled lightly and shook my head.
"Boy, give me my flowers."
"That's not the way you ask for things," he said, strolling over to my chair. I rolled my eyes as he stood in front of me and looked down upon my face.
"Fine," I said, "Shane-"
"Mr. Callahan," he corrected with a sly grin.
I sighed. "Mr. Callahan, can I-"
"May I."
"Mr. Callahan, may I please have my flo-"
"Beautiful flowers."
". . . beautiful flowers?" I giggled.
"What's the magic word?" he asked, waving the flowerings around and taunting me.
"Now."
"Nope, try again."
"Shane, come on. . ."
"Magic word."
"Please!?!" He laughed heartily and I smiled despite myself, snatching the bouquet from his hands. "Damn, you play too much."
"What?" he asked, "All I wanted was a polite request. It's a shame I had to coach you through it. Don't you have manners?"
"Kiss my ass," I said before I took a deep whiff of my roses, "And thank you for the bouquet." He nodded and I continued to gaze at my flowers before I felt his hand cup my left cheek. It was warm against my skin and guide my head upwards. He smiled at me like he was seeing me for the first time before he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.
It was a slow and tender kiss that was so warm my whole body heated up. Not in some horny way (well, maybe a little), but in a more. . . comforting fashion. I was a bit surprised by the way he held my face in his hands and was so gentle with the works of his tongue against mine. It seemed like such a long time ago when he was this careful with me. When things weren't rushed between us.
He pulled away and I took in a breath I didn't know I needed. His eyes were wide and happy like he had felt everything I just did and I was tempted to ask him if he did.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered and I smiled, silently asking where this Shane had been hiding all these years.
"I love you," I said so softly that I thought he hadn't heard me, but he smiled wide, showing off his pearly whites, and rubbed his thumb across my cheek.
"I love you, too." And there you have it. The phrase I thought I'd never hear again was spoken by the last man I thought would say it. A miracle it seemed to be. Shane Callahan expressing his feelings for me with more emotion than he's had in four years. He loved me. I loved him. And for the first time in a long time, Justin was the last thing on my mind.
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"This is crap," I whined and my mother rolled her eyes.
"It's not crap," she argued, "It's good."
"It blows," I countered.
"Wind blows," my mom said, "This. . . This is brilliant."
"Sure," I said, ripping the page from my song book and balling it up. I tossed it in the center of the table where a growing pile of balled up paper layed. My mother shot me a look of displeasure and I only stared back for a second before my eyes focused on the blank sheet in front of me.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a voice that told me she already knew exactly what was wrong.
"I can't concentrate," I said, "And I'm a bit frustrated."
"I can see that," she said, "But why do you feel that way?" I sighed and leaned back against the hard wood of the kitchen chair.
"Because. . . I miss her," I admitted softly, "A lot." Mother nodded and I fiddled with the hem of my Bob Marley t-shirt.
"Well, that's perfectly normal," she informed me, "I mean, it's been. . . what? Two, maybe three, weeks?"
"Three weeks and two days," I answered, "But who's counting?" She smiled softly at me and I just stared back as I pouted.
"Love sucks, doesn't it?"
"More than I'd like it to," I said, folding my hands on my lap, "I need a vacation."
"You're on one," my mother said.
"No, I'm sitting on my ass doing nothing," I said, "I need to go out."
"Then go out," mother said enthusiastically, "It's a big world, you're a big man, and you've got big money. There's nothing holding you back."
"Except for a big heart that's too stupid to let go of a big problem," I whined. "I miss her, Mama."
"I'm sure she misses you too."
"Then why hasn't she called?" I asked.
"Why haven't you called?"
"Because she's wrong," I said, "She's always wrong and I'm not crawling back to her like that. I can't." My mom shrugged.
"Well, there you go," she said as if I should've been less confused.
"What?" I asked.
"You're not calling her because she's wrong, right?" I nodded. "Well, maybe she thought you were wrong too. . . in some weird, twisted way."
"That's bullshit," I spat, "I didn't do anything."
"Well, you kicked her out," my mom said before quickly adding, "Not that that was wrong, but maybe she's a little hurt that you were suddenly so rash. Or maybe she knows she's wrong and can't face you and admit it." I took in her words and compared them with who Teresa was. It seemed to make perfect sense. It did make perfect sense, but I still wanted her to call. I just wanted to know if she was alright.
"Okay, mom," I said, "You're right. I'll just wait for her to come around and apologize." She nodded approvingly and smiled at me.
"Good, baby. That's good." I smiled. "Now, where are you headed?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what are you going to do to cure your boredom," she said, "I was serious about this world being a big place."
"Where do I start then?" I asked.
"What do you want out of this trip?"
"Fun. Lots and lots of fun," I said, "Oh, and food. Food would be nice."
"Fun and food, huh?" She thought for a moment before smiling. "I know just the place."
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The next two days seemed to fly by as I, rather Trace, planned my trip. Tickets, hotel room, cars, bodyguards. . . You know, the usual. I was actually excited about it. I was sitting next to him, as giddy as a kid on Christmas, when he set everything up. South Beach. That's where I'm going. My mom told me that if I didn't have fun there, I wouldn't have fun anywhere. It was like Disney for adults, she claimed. I remember sending my mom there once with my Aunt Laurel for Mother's Day and she came back ranting and raving. I've never been, surprisingly. I lived in Florida, for goodness sake. It goes to snow you that people really do forget about the little things.
Anyway, I'm finishing up some last minute packing when I spot my cell phone on its charger. I suddenly remember Teresa and my spirits damper. She had almost escaped my mind for an hour. I know, it's sad, but give me some credit. I used to struggle to keep her from my head for two seconds, let alone an hour. But now that she was back where I didn't need her to be, I got the urge to call.
Not to apologize or ask her back, but to just check up on her and let her know I won't be home for a while just in case she swings by. No, I shouldn't. If she picks up and actually apologizes, I'll be cancelling my flight on her call, but I can't avoid her forever. You don't make a problem better by avoiding it. Confrontation is what clears it up.
I wasn't much for confrontation though.
I sat on my bed and sighed. To call or not to call, that is the question. The answer came soon enough when I dialed her familiar digits and pressed the phone to my ear. I swear, it was a subconscious move. A force of habit, maybe. Whatever it was, I couldn't hang up no matter how much my stomach knotted up with every ring. I breathed a sigh of relief when her voicemail came up.
"This is Teresa and you know the deal." It beeped and I choked on my own spit when I went to speak. I coughed and took a deep breath.
"Umm. . . Hey." Nice intro, genius. "It's. . . me. Ha. Well, I'm just calling to, uh, check on you. It's been quite a while and I was just a bit concerned that you haven't called or visited. Not that I, like, mind or anything, but yeah. . . I just wanted you to know that I'm going away for a while, so I won't be home. . . You can still get back at me though. I've got my cell. You know the number. . . Oh. . .umm. . . I miss you and I hope you know that, but also know that I still need time. Okay? Okay. Well, just call back and let me know you're fine. . . Bye, Teresa."
I hung up and felt my cheeks burning. I was completely embarrassed. How do you embarrass yourself when there's nobody around and you did nothing but leave a freakin' message? I don't know, but I know my face was red. I could feel it and see it once I looked up in my bureau's mirror and saw my reflection. I rolled my eyes and felt extremely stupid.
When did I become such a loser?
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I was absolutely estatic.
Shane and I have been so good these last few weeks. I can honestly say that we've grown more in that time than we have in years. I don't know why things changed. I don't know why Shane suddenly took notice of my existance, but I'm glad he did. The drama seemed to ceased and the awkwardness is gone. The only thing we've been is happy.
Happy. With Shane, at that. Who would of have thought that was possible? Certainly not me. I'm almost glad that Justin kicked me out. Had he not have, I would've called out of work and Shane wouldn't have surprised me. We wouldn't have shared almost a mouth of loving and caring and we certainly wouldn't be going on a small vacation to celebrate a renewal of faith in our relationship.
Yes, travel. The last place Shane took me was work when my car was in the shop. But now I'm all packed up and ready to go. Just two more hours before my flight.
"Shane," I said, walking into our bedroom with my sundress in my hand, "I was trying to find the skirt you were talking about, but I couldn't, so I'll take this little dress instead. Same difference, right?" I folded it and unzipped my suit case, squeezing it on the side, right above my paired up flip flops.
"Teresa-"
"That reminds me," I interrupted, "I had to redo your suit case for you. You folded it kinda lopsided, so I organized it. Now you can fit some of those CDs you wanted to bring."
"Teresa." I looked up when Shane said my name.
"Sorry for interrupting," I apologized, "What were you going to say?"
"I was going to ask you what this was." He held up my phone and I made a face.
"It's a cell phone," I said slowly, "Say it with me. Cell. Phone."
"I know what the hell this is," he said, standing from his spot on the bed and stalking over towards me, "But what the hell is this?" He pressed a few buttons and I waited.
"Umm. . . Hey." I froze the moment Justin's voice rang through the air and Shane turned up the volume on the speaker phone. "It's. . . me. Ha. Well, I'm just calling to, uh, check on you. It's been quite a while and I was just a bit concerned that you haven't called or visited. Not that I, like, mind or anything, but yeah. . . I just wanted you to know that I'm going away for a while, so I won't be home. . . You can still get back at me though. I've got my cell. You know the number. . . Oh. . .umm. . . I miss you and I hope you know that, but also know that I still need time. Okay? Okay. Well, just call back and let me know you're fine. . . Bye, Teresa."
He slammed the shut and tossed it hastily on the bed. "What the hell does he miss you for?" I was in stunned silence, glancing at the phone and back at him.
"I. . ."
"You what?!" he yelled. I sighed and rubbed my temples.
"Shane, look, you weren't around-"
"Are you kidding me?"
"It's Justin, okay?" I said, "It's just Justin."
"That same faggot you fucked around with before?" he growled.
"Don't say that."
"What? The truth?" he asked, "You're still with him?"
"No," I admanently denied. "We haven't been together since me and you started working out. I swear." It wasn't a lie this time, but Shane still remained unsure.
"You promised me that you two were finished a while back and now he's calling you and missing you."
"You promised me you were done too," I shot back. "Don't act all high and mightly, Shane. You're just as bad, if not worse, than me."
"See? This is exactly why we're fucked up," Shane groaned. "Too many lies."
"We're working on that though."
"Teresa-"
"Shane, please," I cooed, silencing him by placing my index finger against his lips, "Let's not even talk about this anymore."
"When are you going to talk about it?"
"I don't know, but not now." He sighed. "Look, we spent a lot of time and money on this trip. I plan on enjoying it with my boyfriend."
"You're talking about me, right?" I rolled my eyes.
"Of course I'm talking about you," I assured. "I love you, okay?"
"Does that mean you're done with him?" Despite the fact that my heart pulled back, my mouth spoke.
"Yes, I am," I said, "I won't even call him back."
"Promise?"
"Yes," I told him, "I promise." He looked me in the eyes and held strong to his gaze. Then he smiled, so wide that you would've thought he won the lottery.
"Okay," he said, "I love you too." He kissed my forehead and I smiled as we pulled apart, each going toward our packed up suit cases. Justin was now swarming through my head, but I pushed him back and thought about the vacation ahead of me. No drama. Just fun.
South Beach, here I come.
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