Page 68 of Naive in Love

"Yes."

"I'm sorry for last night. I should never have acted that way with you."

"Okay. I just wanted to let you know I got home fine. I should go." I’m hit with a pang of regret for calling him.

“Fine. Call me when you’re ready to talk. I do want to talk to you. I really feel bad about last night, and I want to make it up to you. But when you’re ready.”

“I will. I still have a migraine and am ready to nap again. I’ll call you later,” I reply, torn between wanting to tell him to come over, needing to feel safe, and wanting to curl up in bed alone.

We hang up, and I am more confused than before. He sounds remorseful, and I truly want to believe he is tired of the roller-coaster ride that has become of our relationship. My heart and head have not been agreeing on much of anything lately, and I need to figure out why that is.

18

Sittingin a pedicure chair while a woman works on my feet, my phone pings a message. I am greeted by a group text from a couple of new friends Lena and I made. They are going out tonight and invite Lena and I to join. A new message comes through from Lena, giving her apologies since she left town for the weekend. I jump in, accepting the invitation. Caleb is working, and I’m tired of drowning in thoughts of the guys.

* * *

Kate drivesus downtown to a gay club Becky swears by. When I question Becky why we are going, she says, “Are we going out to pick up guys?”

“No.” Kate and I answer in unison.

“So then, dancing and drinking, without skeezy guys trying to feel us up on the dance floor, it is.” She answers us casually, as if everyone was privy to this secret. I think about this for a few seconds, and it makes perfect sense.

The club is huge—a couple of stories with different areas and dance floors. We make our way to the bar for our first round of drinks and find a table nearby, not wanting to take our drinks on the dance floor. A couple of drinks later, we’re ready to dance. I cannot believe how many amazingly hot guys are on the dance floor, shirtless and sweaty. There is eye candy everywhere.

We spend the next couple of hours dancing and drinking. I can’t remember having so much fun with guys. No expectations. No fakeness. No masks. Just plain laughs and fun. When we walk out of the club, I feel the effects of the alcohol hit me along with the cold air.

Hungry from a night of drinking, we stop at a late-night taco place, popular with the after-club crowd. Sitting at our table, waiting on the food, I hear Jason’s loud, obnoxious voice boom. I look around and see him and Wes with a couple of other guys.

The guy at the counter calls our number, so I volunteer to pick up the order. I stop at the salsa bar to grab condiments when Wes comes over, serving himself some too.

“Caleb just texted he got off early tonight. You should stop by and surprise him,” he says quietly.

“Really? How did he manage that?” I ask, confused, because he didn’t text me. He just shrugs his shoulders before heading back to his table.

We finish our tacos, and instead of going back to my place, I ask Kate to drop me off at Caleb’s. I figure if he’s not home, the guys will be close behind, and I can wait and surprise him. I get out of the car and thank the girls for a fun evening.

The door to the apartment is unlocked, so I walk into the dark living room. I make my way in and down the hallway of the bedrooms when I am assaulted by a female’s laugh. My heart stops. There’s no reason for a girl to be here when the guys aren’t home. I reach Caleb’s door, and I hear voices on the other side and a giggle that’s too familiar.

I grab the door handle, turn it, and push the door wide open. I’m confused by the sight in front of me. Caleb is lying in bed naked with Emily straddling him. I freeze, unaware of an appropriate reaction, not able to move my eyes from Emily and the pleased smirk she is wearing. Time moves unprecedentedly slow. She makes no move to cover her exposed boobs.

I’m finally brought out of my stupor when she asks, “Can I help you with something?”

I look at Caleb. His eyes are wide, his lips pulled down. He pushes her off and jumps out of bed, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around himself before coming toward me.

“Babe…uh…what…when…” He stands in front of me, stumbling over his words.

“I’ve gotta go.” I begin to back out of the room, but he grabs my arm, holding me in place. I am too shocked and drunk to say or do anything but stand there like a fool.

“Let the bitch leave!” Emily yells at him from the bed sitting up.

“Get the hell out!” The roar that leaves Caleb causes me to jump, and again I try to retreat to no avail; the grip he has on my upper arms is too tight.

“I’m trying,” I squeak, my voice faltering.

“Not you.” He squeezes my arms tighter, pushing me against the wall. He turns around again, sending Emily a ferocious look. “I’m not going to ask again. Get. The. Hell. Out,” he threatens with a quiet, disturbing tone.

“Really?” Emily moves to sit against the headboard and with bent knees, she opens her legs. She brings her hand to her center and purrs, “You know you want more.”

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