Page 63 of Revenge Cake

It’s amazing how quickly reality hits after the sublime pleasure starts to fade. When you realize you’re standing in the middle of your girlfriend’s kitchen with no pants on, your dick still inside her while she straddles you on the counter, both of you covered in sweat and chocolate frosting, and finally fully accept that you have no self-control. That even after everything she’s done to you, she still owns you.

The worst part is that I committed the cardinal sin this time, and all it took was…

What? What did Lani even do to make me devour her like a maniac, smashing cake onto her face and pussy just so I could lick it off?

Jesus. What a disaster, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

I lift my head from Lani’s shoulder to look her in the eyes. I’m about to tell her this can’t happen again, when I’m momentarily arrested by the look on her face. Her eyelids are lazy. Her expression is blank. Something about the look makes me uneasy. She looks resigned somehow.

“You’re about to tell me this can’t happen again,” she says in an empty voice.

“Yes, but I’m not blaming you.”

“It doesn’t matter either way.” She sets her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back. I grunt as my dick slips out of her. She lowers her head to look at her body and then mine. “We’re filthy. I’ll go get us some rags.”

After slipping down from the counter, she turns around and walks out of the kitchen, her movement as slow and steady as a ghost. My eyes fix on her butt as she disappears into the hallway.

Even the way her body moves seems strange. But why? How would I expect her to look, move, and behave right now? I consider it as I pick up my pants from the floor and slip them back on.

I still haven’t figured it out by the time she emerges from the hallway with a large towel in hand. She walks back to the kitchen sink and turns on the faucet. She places the maroon towel in the sink, creating a blood-red spot under the running water. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say, hoping it will prompt her to tell me.

After turning off the sink, she turns around to face me. “What am I thinking?” She tosses the towel in my direction.

I grab it and run the warm, wet spot along the front of my chest. “That I put on this big show of setting boundaries with you, and now I’m the one violating them.” A nostalgic smile rises to my lips. “You think I’m weak.”

She doesn’t smile back. She seems to consider my words. “I’ve since revised that opinion. I think you have trouble accepting other peoples’ weaknesses. And you like new love. A lethal combination.”

I expel a frustrated breath before meeting her eyes. “If you’re implying I set boundaries with you because I had trouble with your ‘weaknesses,’” I emphasize the word, thinking it not quite adequate to describe her Ativan addiction, “I don’t think that’s really fair.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Actually it does matter. I set boundaries with you for both of our sakes. We couldn’t go on like that any longer, not if we wanted to make it long-term. For the sake of our relationship, we should both agree to stick to the break. We’ll start over with it. Right now. No trying to make me jealous, and I won’t keep showing up here when the mood strikes me.”

Her jaw clenches. “Agreed.”

Though I’m still perplexed by her strange mood, I accept her agreement. “Okay, at least now we can be on the same page. We won’t see each other. We won’t text or talk at all, and just keep doing whatever you’re doing because you really seem like the old Leilani, so it must be working. A month from now we’ll re-evaluate—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The uneasiness at the back of my mind rises to the fore. “I don’t understand…”

Her expression doesn’t change. “We won’t need to re-evaluate in a month if we end everything now.”

I stare at her dumbly, sickness stirring in my stomach, even though I know she couldn’t have meant what her words implied. Taking an unsteady breath, I run her words again through my mind. “End everything…” I trail off, unable to form the question rising to my mind. “You mean… I don’t understand what you mean by ‘end everything.’ Do you mean we shouldn’t go on a break?”

Something that looks like sympathy flashes into her eyes, but it’s quickly gone. “Logan, why draw this out? Let’s just end it now so we can both enjoy our last month of college.”

My heart jumps into my throat, my pulse pounding like a hammer. “Draw this out? What do you mean draw this out? We’re talking about making things better so that we can be together after college. So I can move with you to Indiana—”

“No we’re not.” Her tone is final. “And you know it. You’ve done this before. Think about it. This is what you did with Brittani. You let your relationship drag out long after you’d already emotionally checked out. You waited until she vandalized your car, for Christ’s sake. And even then, you still went to her house at night to comfort her after you broke up—”

“This is nothing like that!” I shout.

“It’s exactly like that, and I knew it right away. I knew exactly what Brittani must have felt like on her slow, humiliating descent from adored girlfriend to crazy bitch—”

“No!” I shout, taking a step closer to her, clenching my fists in almost unbearable frustration. “This is a completely different situation. I didn’t want to be with Brittani… Or Harper… Or Ashley, or any of my other crazy as fuck ex-girlfriends, so you can’t even compare…”

A chill runs down my spine at the sound of her laughter, my hands growing cold and numb. I stare at her in bewilderment as she leans her head back, her shoulders shaking. She looks joyful—her eyes squinting, her full cheeks dimpling. Who is this person? Who is this person laughing gleefully while she destroys me?

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