Page 11 of Damaged
“Maybe you are, but maybe you know as well as I do it’s the truth. So, anyway I figure we’ll meet up at the bar around nine like usual. Sound good?” he asks, changing the subject.
I want to push. I want to know why he thinks that about himself. Does he realize he’s a player who’s probably been called an asshole more times than he could count? Maybe after hearing it so many times you just start to believe it’s the truth. I can see people thinking he’s an asshole. He’s a wham bam thank you ma’am, guy. One night only. A manwhore. I’m sure he’s hurt a lot of women. Hell, I’m sure some have felt like a cheap whore, just like I did. I guess maybe he’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe deep down I do think he’s nothing but an asshole.
“Eva? Did I lose you?”
Shit. “No, sorry I’m here. Yeah, nine is great. So listen, I’m going to get to bed. I’ll catch up with you at the end of the week.”
As much as I want to stay on the phone, listening to his deep voice, my body just won’t have it. I pushed myself today and I’m paying for it now.
**
It’s Friday night and I’m on my way to the bar to meet Brett. He’s determined to leave with someone tonight. He must of told me twenty times between last night and today. I have to imagine this is the longest he’s gone without sex and it’s starting to fuck with him. Metaphorically, of course.
Tonight, unlike all the others, he meets me at the cab. “There’s my girl,” he says, wrapping his art filled arm around me.
It makes me feel good, a little too good. He doesn’t remove it until we get up to the bar. And he tosses me a wink. A fucking wink. I don’t know if he’s flirting or what, but for a minute, I need to remind myself I’m not here with him. Not in that way.
“I need a shot,” I blurt out.
Running his hand over the hair on his face, he searches my eyes. “Bad day?”
“No. I just want a shot,” I say. I mean what else am I supposed to say? No not a bad day, just need some alcohol to be able to deal with you and this night. Obviously not, so I came up with that lame ass reply.
“Ok. Not sure I believe you, but I’m not going to push. Whatever is bothering you, you’ll forget all about when you’re getting screwed later.”
Screwed. If he only knew how long it’s actually been since I had sex. How long it’s been since I felt the weight of a guy above me, the feeling of his skin on mine, his taste. And an orgasm, it’s been even longer since I’ve experienced that. Since I’ve had my body worshipped. So, the odds of that happening tonight or anytime soon are slim. I want to have fun, I need it. I’m just not sure it’ll ever happen.
“Eva, you sure you want to be here?” he asks, pushing a shot my way.
Tossing it back, I slam the cup down. “I’m sure. Let’s do this.”
“How about a drink first?”
“How about you act like the manwhore you are and let’s get this going already,” I shoot back.
Ouch. That was mean and totally uncalled for. He knows it too because he looks hurt which is quickly replaced by pissed. I don’t know where this is all coming from, why I’m being such a bitch all of a sudden.
Getting close to my face, close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin, he says, “Just because I don’t want a relationship doesn’t make me a piece of shit. Just because I sleep around doesn’t make me a bad guy. And just because I walk in without the door being opened for me doesn’t make me an insensitive prick. You don’t need to be here, no one is forcing you, but if you’re going to stay I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck has changed.”
“I’m sorry, fuck Brett. I don’t even know why I said that. It was uncalled for and hurtful,” I say, dropping my gaze to the floor.
“Oh no,” he says, lifting my chin. “Don’t look away from me now. What’s changed Eva?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s changed. It’s me. It was a bad week and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry, please Brett. I didn’t mean it,” I say, feeling tears starting to build.
“Don’t lie. Don’t sit there and lie to my face. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t think it at least once or twice,” he calmly says, tossing back a shot.
“Okay fine. Maybe I’ve thought it before, but not since we’ve gotten to know each other again. I swear to you I don’t know where it came from. Only thing I can say is I had a shit week and you are the one I’m closest too, so I took it out on you,” I whisper, as a tear escapes.
He reaches over, brushing it away with his thumb. “Eva, don’t cry. I can’t handle that. I get having a bad week, I’ve had them, a lot of them. I even get the anger, I have it too. But next time you’re having a bad week or whatever, how about you just fucking tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay, fine. Deal,” I say and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I know you are,” he says, wrapping one arm around me.
**
After we finally got past the shitty start to the night, we started drinking...heavily. I’m not sure he really knows I’m sorry, but he’s not acting pissed anymore.
