Page 3 of Such A Filthy Girl

His apartment was undoubtedly nicer than mine. He’d gone slightly outside the city centre, sacrificing convenience for space. The sea of chrome and glass screamedbachelor pad. Staying over meant battling through the early morning rush on the subway. Getting into work smelling like the underground was my least favourite part of the day. Even if I enjoyed waking up with arms wrapped around me. With no work in the morning, my usual excuse wouldn’t fly.

‘Do you think you can come here? It’s Christmas Eve and I’m all cozy and I’ll need to have all my stuff for getting ready in the morning to go to your parents’.’

Graham let out a sigh, hesitation stretching out in a few seconds of silence. He didn’t enjoy the dirty stairwell or the noisy nights, nor the teeming bookshelves and overabundance of potted plants. My apartment looked far morelived inthan his pristine place.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to come here? It might be easier for getting to Mom’s in the morning.’

‘I can just meet you at your place in the morning if you don’t want to head over?’ We had this dance far too many evenings, and I was too tired to keep it going.

Another sigh.

‘No, it’s fine babe, I’ll be over soon. Just need to grab my things. Can’t have you spending Christmas Eve alone.’

I shouldn’t want to spend it alone. I should be beside myself with excitement at the thought of Christmas Eve with my man. What was wrong with me?

It had to be the nerves.

With less than a week to go before I returned home for the first time in six years, I had been stuck in a cycle of deciding to call off my trip, and going. Mom would be heartbroken if I missed their anniversary. She’d been talking for months about how excited she was to have us all under the same roof again.

Her whole family together.

There was one big problem with her plan.

Leo.

My step-brother.

The one person I didn’t want to see.

Being that he hadn’t left the house since his mother died, years before we met, avoiding him had been really easy since I left home.

Until Mom’s party.

I remained rottingin my thoughts, the discarded noodle carton on the table, until Graham walked into my apartment. He took a moment too long to mask his disgust at the hallway, pulling his face into an unconvincing smile when he caught me looking.

‘Estella,’ he said, placing his bags neatly on the chair before walking over to me. I stood and hugged him, his hands stiff on my waist as he planted a brief kiss on my lips.

Sometimes I wondered if he was with me out of the same belief that we were suitable that I had. Did he lay awake and wonder about passion like I did? Maybe he was holding back a wave of unmatched desire on my behalf. What if we were both stuck in some sort of loop of trying to be the ideal match? In a moment of madness, I reached into his hair and pulled him back into the kiss, pouring my need into his mouth. His lips parted, allowing my tongue to stroke against his. Instead of melting into the touch, he stiffened. And not where I’d hoped he would.

I broke off the kiss, my face heating as he cleared his throat.

‘Shall we have a glass of something? I brought some white wine.’ Graham released me, looking ruffled.

‘Yeah, sounds great.’ I didn’t even like white wine much. I pretended to like it to fit in. It felt like something Ishouldlike. Most adults had to be faking half the stuff they liked, right? Like olives and blue cheese. There had to be some sort offake it until you make it handbooksomeone had forgotten to give me. Adulthood was proving to be a far more mundane existence than the world had led to believe. What was the point in having money, and nobody telling you what to do, when you spent all your money on rent, and were too exhausted to do anything naughty, anyway?

I suffered through two glasses of the vile yellow liquid, and three episodes of the latest drama show thatGraham was obsessing over before we collapsed into my bed. I pushed the tower of books and yesterday’s coffee cup out of the way to place my phone on my bedside table.

I’d stripped off as usual, and Graham came out in his button-up pyjama top and checkered bottoms.

I wanted to tear them off of him and have him ravage me.

Other people ravaged, right?

I’d never been ravaged.

With Graham, I never would be.

Minutes later, Graham was inside me. He spooned me from behind, his pyjamas pulled down and his arm looping around my waist.

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