“No, it’s all right. Tell me,” I insist, having no reservations at all about lending him my ear. I’m used to it, after all.
This is what I do for all my friends. I listen to their marital issues. And sure, Andrew and I aren’t exactly friends. We just met. But I like him. I think we’ll definitely get along working together.
He breathes out hard and takes another big sip of his booze. “Sometimes I think maybe we’re not meant for one another. I was a bachelor for a while… It was rather crazy.” He laughs to himself, mentally reminiscing at something that makes him shake his head, to which I chuckle.
“Yea, trust me, I know the game,” I murmur, though the confidence I usually possess when talking about my female companions suddenly feels forced. And I definitely know why…
“You don’t say!” Andrew scoffs, quirking a brow at me. “Even if I hadn’t heard of your gallivanting all over the city with a new woman every night, those hickeys on your neck would be a dead-giveaway.” He laughs out loud and points at the horrified look on my face.
Yes, I still have hickeys on my damn neck and throat. They won’t go away, though it’s only been two days since they were given to me by the little raven-haired culprit.
Part of me loves that Alex left marks on me. It’s as if she actually wants me, more than a friend, and used her lips to claim her territory. She practically peed all over me.
Ew. No thanks, R. Kelly.
But the potential sweetness of the whole thing is tainted because she took off after we… did what we did… And I haven’t heard from her since. I’ve tried calling her dozens of times and have gotten nothing but voicemail.
After the initial shock wore off from the fact that we dry-humped each other to orgasm on my living room floor while playing Mario Kart like a couple of fucking children, I was able to compose myself enough to go after her. I sprinted out of my building, hoping that maybe I could catch up with her on the street. But no such luck. She was already gone.
I called her phone over and over until I finally got it through my thick skull that it was off, and obviously for a reason. She was clearly upset.
And I felt like a giant pile of garbage.
Still do.
“I don’t think I’ve had a hickey since I was seventeen,” Andrew sighs nostalgically and I give him the side-eye. “But then, I’ve been married for six years.”
“Yea, well I’d hold off before you envy me,” I huff, swallowing a mouthful of scotch. “My love life isn’t exactly all tits and rainbows.”
“Why, what happened?” He turns in his seat to give me a very concerned blue-eyed stare. “Some little totty steal your edge and make you question whether you still want to be a bachelor?”
I gape at him. “You sound like you have some experience in this…” I try to shift the attention off of me.
“Well, a bit, I suppose,” he runs his fingers along his chin. “Vivian settled me down. But I’m unsure if it was about her, or simply that I was done whoring around. You have to admit, it does get old after a while…”
Ain’t that the truth…
“I think life is too short to spend it flitting around forever,” he goes on. “But I think settling down for the sake of settling is a mistake, as well…” His voice trails off as he considers his own words.
“It doesn’t seem like either of us are in a position to be giving anyone advice,” I scoff, to which he laughs.
“Cheers to that, mate,” he grins and we clink glasses again. “I like you, Noah. I think we’ll get along quite well.”
“I think we’ll have a lot of fun, and get into a lot of trouble,” I show him an evil grin and he laughs again.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. And add Johnny to the mix… Jesus. Watch out, world.”
We both laugh together. “It’s gonna be a hell storm.”
The music is pumping loud around me.
It’s comforting; the way the bass beats into my chest, covering up the rapping of my own heart.
I’m out at Sensay, because it’s been a long day and I just want to keep drowning myself in liquor so I’m not tempted to think about my feelings or check my phone for the hundredth time in forty-five minutes.
Naturally my phone is blowing up the way it always is, but I still keep praying for a call or text from Alex, and it’s starting to feel like that might never happen.
I just can’t believe I blew it. I can’t believe I ruined our friendship by letting us slip into this awkward, tense bizarro realm of mistakes and regrets.
I don’t really regret what happened with Alex, because it felt amazing. She came in my arms. Jesus, all the cold showers in the world can’t erase the memory of how fucking sexy that was.
What I do regret is that I wasn’t supposed to push her, and that’s exactly what I did. I should have stopped it the moment she started grinding that tight, taut little body on me. I should have took a fucking second to be a good guy, not the degenerate I so clearly am, and thought about what it would do to our friendship. And more importantly than that, what it could mean for her.
She’s married.
M.A.R.R.I.E.D.
So what if her husband is an abusive waste of human life? He’s still her husband, and it’s up to her to leave him, and deal things in her own way. But I fucked with her head. I stole her ability to process things properly by teasing her and touching her and wanting her so fucking bad it clouded both of our judgements.
Man, I am a piece of shit. Maybe it’s a good thing she’s not calling me. She should probably stay away from the relationship enema. Turning all relationships into explosive shit.
I really hate feeling like this. I don’t do depressed. I don’t do insecurity, or vulnerability or regret. I don’t do feelings, which is exactly why I avoid falling in love. Because this is what love gets you… Perilous self-doubt, jealousy, and desperation. Being in love sucks big hairy balls.
Wait, why are we talking about love?
My chest tightens and sweat appears Houdini-style on my brow and in my palms. My heart is suddenly racing.
I’m not in love… Am I?
No no no no… This can’t happen. Not me. Not casual, unassuming Noah Richards, King of the Bachelors.
Love’s not in my vocabulary.
Fuck.
Well, that’s it. I need to move the fuck on, right now. I need to prove to myself that Alex is better off without me… Even if she is in danger, and I still feel really fucking bad about that.
But I’m sure if she needed help she would seek it out… Right?
I’m so all over the place I can’t barely think. All I know is that I’m out, I’m sort of drunk, and there’s a blonde girl over by the bar who’s eyeing me like she just found her next snack.
Good. Great. This is perfect.
I can use this. Let’s go over and talk to the blonde girl in the shockingly tight dress, flirt and maybe bang, and forget all about the mess I’ve made.
I stammer up to the girl and we just stare at each other for a few minutes, because it’s too loud in here to converse. Which is fine. I don’t want to talk at all. If I can manage to get her naked and wrapped around my dick without having to speak any words, or listen to any of hers, then tonight will be considered a victory.