Page 17 of Me Three
“You’re crazy,” he says.
“Who cares, Carter? What’s wrong with living a little?”
“And what? I don’t know how to live because I don’t want to fuck a student?”
“Sorry, I forgot. You live by fucking a different guy every other night. How could I?”
Carter grimaces and bites the inside of his cheek. Frankly, I’m tired of having the same argument over and over. And it seems we keep circling to the same subject every time we’re at home.
Tru, and Carter’s issues.
“I still sleep with you, don’t I?” he says.
“Oh God, how could I forget? And how do you think that makes me feel? That you don’t even count me in your sexual conquests. As if I’m just your home-bound sex toy and not a living, breathing human being,” I raise my voice.
“You agreed to the rules,” he shouts at me. “And if you don’t like it anymore, just say so.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I shout back. “I’d just like to count for something. Do you even care about me? And I’m not talking as a ‘lover’ or anything like that. God forbid. I’m talking as a friend. You say we’refriendswith benefits, yet it seems to me that we’re just benefits. You don’t even talk to me anymore. You’ve shut everyone out. I don’t even know what you’re thinking half the time. It’s like you forgot to be a human and turned into an emotionless, sex robot.”
“You know what? Let’s forget about this,” Carter says, standing up, pizza box in one hand, beer in the other. “I’m putting an end to our agreement. No more friends with benefits.”
He storms into his room, but this time I have no intention of following him to apologize. I’ve got nothing to apologize for. And until he learns to deal with us like an adult again, he doesn’t deserve my apology.
“Fine by me,” I tell him just as the door slams and echoes across the apartment.
My phone buzzes next to me, and I look at the screen to find a new message from Tru.
How’s your night going, Ev?
I take my phone in my hand and open the messaging app.
They looked quite shocked when I suggested I was still interested in them, but now they are messaging me. Does that meantheyare interested inme?
Definitely not according to plan, I message back.
How come?
I just had a fight with Carter, I say.
I know the fight’s between us two, but I feel like I can talk to them. Especially after the shitty way Carter treated them.
I hope it wasn’t about me, they reply.
Nah. It was about his issues, I say, but leaving a text message conversation on such a dead stop isn’t great, so I follow it up with another message.How’s your evening going?
I flip through the channels on the TV like a madman, watching the dots on my screen dance as they’re typing and waiting for their response.
Carter’s room door remains shut, and when I mute the TV, there’s absolute silence in the apartment. If I had to take a guess, he’s probably eating his pizza while gaming and taking out all his anger on a shoot’em up instead of talking to me.
It’s fine by me. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I’ve been more than reasonable with him. He’s the one acting like a big baby. He’s not the first or the last guy to be hurt by an ex. Not everyone acts like a demented diva because of it.
It’s okay. But it’s getting late, so I’m heading home, comes their response.
Really? I would have thought you’d be out all night sneaking into house parties, getting wasted. I mean, it’s Friday night after all.
God, no! I’m not a fan of alcohol, and my parents are waiting for me.
Would you be in trouble if you wanted to go out?I ask. Obviously there’s a double meaning to my question even though I wouldn’t invite them over tonight, not after the blow-out with Carter. But it’s good to know for future reference.
