Page 3 of Getting It Twisted

Nathan. He groans, but it’s not a groan of pleasure. Not at all.

Laughter, and a third voice. “That’s it. Keep him like that.”

What the hell?

My chest rises with a shaky breath. In and out. I close my hand around the doorknob and turn . . .

“Hello? Earth to Daniel.” Lydia’s fingers snap in front of my face. “You could at least kiss me back, you know. I’m trying here.”

I drag a hand over my face, trying to wipe off the remnants of the daydream. I haven’t thought about that night in a long time. What the hell set it off? Even after five years, the memory is so easily summoned.

“Sorry,” I say. “Work wrung me out.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Her ass presses into my groin as she straddles me on the bed and peels back the zipper of my work uniform. “Let me help you feel better, baby.”

I consider letting her do it—focusing on her hands trailing down my body and stroking my thighs, because what guy in his right mind would turn down a blow job? But it’s no use. My dick is soft with disinterest, and I’m not in the mood to steer my thoughts to where it’ll go hard.

It becomes clear to me then: it’s not just the in-this-moment sex I don’t want.

It’s her. It’sus.

Lydia’s nice enough, she’s pretty enough, and when she smiles, her eyes twinkle in a way that makes me think of soap bubbles in the open summer sky. But there’s nothing in me that burns for her. There’s lust but only the automatic reactions of my body. There’s no longing when she’s not around. There’s no love, no hate, no happy, no sad. Nothing. I’m coursed through with numbness, all the way to my core. I know what could thaw me, butheis a thousand miles away, or dead for all I know.

Lydia, who must feel my stiffness everywhere except for where it should be, glances up. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah,” I say. “This isn’t working.”

“Oh. Well, tell me what you want me to do, then. What’ll make you feel good.”

“No, Lydia.” I push her gently off me and slide off the bed. “This.” I point between me and her. “It’s not gonna work.”

Her frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

Am I gonna have to spell it out to her? We’ve been together for, what, two months? Long enough for her to notice how my eyes glaze over when she tells me about her pet chinchilla and tarot readings and the news. Long enough for her to notice my unenthusiastic hugs when I greet her after work.

“You’re breaking up with me?” She straightens her blouse and bounces off the bed. Her accusatory glare is a relief, strangely enough. Out of anger or sadness, I prefer the former.

“You can still come here and hang out at parties,” I offer half-heartedly. “Tonight, for example, we—”

“No, thanks,” she snaps. “I don’t wanna hang out with yourroommates, Daniel.”

Something in the way she says it makes my hackles rise, and I no longer care about letting her down or being hospitable—not if she’s gonna make snide comments about my friends. She’s in my bedroom, in my house, and I want her gone.

“Suit yourself.” I turn my back on her and start rearranging the pile of books on my windowsill, hoping she’ll get the message.

“You’re not the nice guy everyone thinks you are, you know.”

“No?” I say in a dull voice, suspecting where this conversation is going. Might as well humor her; I owe her that much. “What am I, then?”

“You act like you’re so mysterious, with your drawings and your brooding eyes. Guess what, you’re just an asshole who thinks you’re better than everyone else!”

Brooding?I cross my arms and face her. “All right. So I’m not nice, I’m an asshole and all-around uncool. Anything else, or are you done?”

“No, I’m not done.” She balls her hands into fists at her sides, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to hit me. “How about you make something of your life and go to college like the rest of us? Or are you planning to be a janitor for the rest of your life?”

Maintenance technician. Not janitor. But what’s the use in correcting her if it won’t be enough to make her leave? What would Nathan say?Fuck off, I’m bored of you now, leave?

But I’m not like him, and there’s no use in wishing I was.

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