Page 52 of The Other Half

But my resolve is growing increasingly thin the more that I look at the image on my screen. I should just delete it. Since when does she send provocative pictures, anyway? Or pictures in general, for that matter.

I stare at her emerald eyes, they appear to be slightly bloodshot and glossy. Her mouth is upturned in a lazy smile. Is she high?

The thought of her getting high with someone else makes me jealous. It shouldn’t, I know. I broke up with her, and I’ve ignored her for weeks now. What did I expect? Of course she’s going to move on and spend time with other people. I know there are plenty of guys that would sell their right nut for a chance with her. But the thought of her getting high with other people worries me. Scares me, even.

Guilt forms a lump in my throat. I changed the trajectory of her life by introducing her to shit that isn’t good for her. And worse, I did it on purpose, thinking we’d always be together and I could protect her.

When Rodney tapped me on the shoulder and told me what was going on at that party, I immediately saw red. I couldn’t sit there and let that low-life possibly slip something in her drink. He has a reputation around here, and it isn’t a good one. I was a total dick about it to her, but I think I had a good reason to be. She doesn’t understand how to keep herself out of trouble after being so sheltered her whole life.

I tap out a reply even though I know better.

Oliver: Having fun?

Oakley: You didn’t block me?

Oliver: Nope.

Oakley: Well this is embarrassing then.

Oliver: Why did you send me that?

Oakley: I sent it to everyone. I thought you’d blocked me.

She sent it to everyone? I feel my body fill with resentment. She wants everyone she knows to see her with her tits on full display like that. Bullshit, she shouldn’t be sending that to anyone else. She isn’t yours anymore, you fucking Neanderthal. I know I have no right to be mad. But I am.

What’s gotten into her? Oh yeah, me. I fucked her up just like I knew I would from the beginning.

I take another swig of my PBR. I didn’t even try to uphold my sobriety after we broke up. Looking back now, I’m shocked I was able to put down the bottle for that long just for a chick. There’s no other woman on earth I’d even consider doing that for.

My phone vibrates again.

Oakley: I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone now.

I have a few options, and I already know I’m going to pick the worst possible one. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. Then I walk to my bathroom and snap a photo in the mirror of myself in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, pulled down low enough that my happy trail is fully visible.

I send the photo to her and stare at my phone while I wait for her reply.

Minutes pass and nothing happens. Maybe she’s too embarrassed to carry on the conversation. Probably, knowing her.

Suddenly my phone lights up, but instead of a message another photo is loading.

A picture of Oakley’s bare chest fills my screen. Goddamn, I love her boobs so much, they’re perfectly symmetrical and perky. My cock stirs to life in my pants, straining against the gray fabric. I want her, so fucking badly. Right now I don’t even care about the bad blood between us. I’d take out any residual anger on her body if I could.

I pull my dick out of my pants and grasp it tightly in my hand as I take a picture of it for her. I’ve never sent anyone a dick pic, I’m not really that type of guy. But I’ll do anything to see the rest of her body, even if I can’t ever experience it in real life again.

I slowly jerk myself off to the last pictures she sent me, waves of pleasure flow through my body as I imagine what we’d be doing if she were here right now. God, I miss her. I’ve fucked plenty of girls in the past, but not one of them even came close to measuring up to Oakley when it comes to sex. When it comes to anything, actually. But sex with her was unbelievably good and I regret that we only got to do it once. I feel like it ruined me for sex with anyone else. A few girls have tried hooking up with me since we broke up, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Somehow it still felt like I’d be cheating on Oakley.

I open the new message from her and a photo of her perfect pussy appears. I feel my balls tighten, and I remember the way she tasted on my tongue. The way her body fit with mine so perfectly. That’s all it takes, my cum shoots out in long, thick ropes and my heart thumps wildly in my chest.

I guess I ought to reply to her. I wonder if she’s touching herself to my pictures right now.

Oliver: I miss your little body so much

After cleaning up my mess I check my phone again.

Oakley: I miss you.

Fuck, what am I doing? I already broke her heart, now I’m just leading her on for my own entertainment. Every day since we broke up I’ve thought about her, I’ve gone round in circles in my head trying to figure out a way to fix this. But then I remember it’s a futile effort, we can’t be together, and that’s that.

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