Page 18 of Bad at Love

This hasn’t happened to me inyears, but every time it happens, it’s never a one and done. It happens a few times a week for a few months, then stops for a few years. Why is it happening now? Why now?

The fluid made it through my pants and onto my sheets, so just like in my dream, I’ll have to change them. That’s going to throw me off completely. With everything else going on in my life, changing my sheets on the wrong day is the last thing I need to deal with. I get out of bed and pull my door open to go to the bathroom so I can wash up.

“Morning.”

I freeze, looking up to see Storm lying on his bed, leaning against the headboard with a laptop on his lap. He doesn’t have a shirt on, just a light grey pair of sweatpants and a head of messy dark hair. Every time I’ve seen him, it’s been messy. I can’t tell if he does it purposely or he’s just too lazy to fix it.

He’s smiling at me, and from here I can see he’s looking at my eyes. Until his gaze travels and he’s looking down, down, and—he stops, his smile turning into a grin.

“Have a good morning, did ya?” he asks smugly.

My face burns and I snap out of whatever trance I’m in and run to the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes, I pull the sticky fabric off me and drop it into the laundry basket before jumping into the shower and scrubbing until my skin is raw.

Boys shouldn’t touch themselves, Gabriel. You save that ejaculate for your wife. That’s for making babies, and that’s it.

I push her voice away again. Though I don’t have interest in touching myself like that, I know her words are exaggerated and dramatic. But even after all these years, I can’t get them out of my damn head. I quickly rinse the soap from my body before getting out and drying off. I reach for the counter to grab my clothes, only to realize there is nothing there. In my haste to get clean, I forgot to bring clean clothes. I stare at the door, as if I could will them to hop from my drawers and float over to me like the kitchen scene in The Sword and the Stone. Not going to happen.

I pace the bathroom, chewing on my thumbnail as I try to decide what to do. I could stay in here until Storm leaves, if he’s going to leave at all. That’s the thing. I don’t know if he’s going anywhere, and I have to be at work soon. At least, I can only assume it’s soon. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so I have some time, but not enough. No, waiting for Storm to leave won’t work. So I guess the only other option is walking out there in my towel because putting on dirty clothes is definitelynotan option.

As I pull the door open, I stare at my bedroom, counting how many steps it’ll take to get there. Less than ten. What’s the worst that can happen? I slip and fall because my feet are wet, my towel goes flying, and Storm sees me naked. I wipe my feet on the floor mat a few times before hurrying out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Pretty sure I made it without being seen, so that’s good. After getting dressed, I grab my cell phone and call Marta.

“I’d like to say good morning, but if you’re calling me this early, I can assume it isn’t good,” is how she answers the phone.

“This isn’t going to work. I can’t live with someone.”

“You lived with Tara,” she says.

“That was different!”

“How so?”

“We were getting married. We were… supposed to do certain things.”

“Certain things?” she asks slowly. “What exactly is going on over there that you aren’t supposed to be doing, Gabriel?”

“I walked in on him touching himself, Marta!” I whisper-shout.

She bursts out laughing, and doesn’t even try to stop herself or hide it.

“It’s not funny,” I say into the phone. “This is crazy. He has to go.”

She laughs for another moment and then says, “He can’t. You signed a contract. He’s there for eight-nine more days.”

This is terrible. What was I thinking? How will I ever live with someone like this? Especially someone like him!

“I can’t do this, Marta. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Now stop worrying about what he’s doing in his room and go about your business. It’s nearly seven. Shouldn’t you be in the shower?”

“I already showered.”

“So early?”

“I’m… stressed.”

Not entirely true. Other than being worried about Storm, my body feels more relaxed than it has in a long time. I guess I must have gotten a good sleep or something.

“Well, continue on with what you need to do then. I’m sure you’re dressed already, because you won’t walk around naked.Go make breakfast. Ignore him. Act like he isn’t there. And remind yourself that you need the money.”

---