Page 4 of The Promise Of You

The.

Fudge.

I kick my shoes off and set my stuff on the kitchen counter. I resist the urge to call Tucker to bitch about him lending our apartment as a fuckpad to his loser brother.

Whatever.

There’s a bra on the back of the couch, a blouse on the floor, jeans on the coffee table, and the trail of shoes and underwear continues down the hallway.

To

our

Bedroom.

G-ross.

And really—the nerve!

I stomp down the carpeted hallway, dark except for a ray of light seeping from our half-open bedroom door. Not enough for me to see inside the room.

Plenty enough to hear.

The woman has her full volume on.

Come. On.

This is like a porno soundtrack, without the lounge music.

No music? The guy is lacking in the atmosphere department. I’ll have to tell Tucker that. We’ll have a good laugh.

Meanwhile, this is my place, and I need them out of here.

I’ll clear my throat, knock on the door, push it open, say a few words, then retreat to the kitchen so they can leave decently—I hope. It’ll be awkward but what the heck. Not my problem.

I’ll have to wash the sheets. That’s really annoying.

I’m getting pissed at Tucker now.

The woman picks up her moaning, and the guy grunts.

He grunts just like Tucker. Brothers, I guess.

God! I so do not want to be here right now. I train my eyes to the floor as I prepare to push the door wide open, not wanting to see anything. Still wanting to get them out of here right. Now.

But then the woman moans, “Oh, Tux… my god… Tux!”

My hand pushes the door, my eyes fly up to the bed, and the thump of my heartbeat covers the rest of their sex noises as I struggle to just stand there. To not collapse, or scream, under the humiliation.

The anger.

The shame.

I expect them to jump and grab the sheets to cover themselves and say something absurd like “It’s not what you think,” but they’re so deep in it. And I’m so totally in the dark of the hallway, I go unnoticed.

I’ve lost all sense of touch, as if my skin were building a shield around me. There’s a voice-over in my head making commentaries, helping me process what I’m seeing.

Tucker has his face snug between her legs. She’s undulating under his mouth. They still have no clue they have an audience. At some point he lifts his face and says, “On your knees,” and they end up both facing the oversized mirror on the side of the bed. I have a prime view of his narrow ass ramming into hers. Her face looks vaguely familiar, but she has one of those pretty blonde faces. Could be anyone.

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