Page 72 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Karma must really want to fuck me. I finally try to move on in some way from this woman by meeting up for a drink with another, and Rachel walks in and sits down right next to me.

Who would’ve thought that meeting a girl you jerked off with online would go south?

I release a laugh at the absurdity of the situation and question, and it echoes into the empty house. It feels like so much bad is happening right now is a sign. A statement from up above that something in my life needs to be fixed.

Maybe I need to go back to Father LaFayette for some advice and penance.

I wander back to the bedroom and drop down onto the bed. My body sinks into the mattress, and I grab the pillow and pull it down over my face to release a scream without alerting Rachel and the other neighbors to my frustration.

But I guess I get it. Chatting with someone online or even jerking off with them is a lot different than meeting them in person. She was bound to be uneasy about it. Even though there was never any pressure or any statements made that it would be more than a drink.

Or…maybe she was there, saw me, and decided I wasn’t what she was expecting in the first place. That’s certainly possible…and a massive blow to my ego I hadn’t considered before.

Having Rachel show up was a mixed blessing, I guess. At least it saved me from sitting there by myself, looking like a loser who got stood up, but it also just reminded me how she’s the one I really want to be with. About how every single minute we spend together is so…right. Even sitting there, waiting for another woman, all I could think about was Rach and how beautiful she looked tonight. Much more risqué than she usually dresses. Sexy. Wild.

And how damn simple it is to fall into our regular routine and dynamic.

No one else will ever be like that. It can’t be that easy with anyone else.

So, where does that leave me?

Home alone on a Saturday night again, screaming into a damn pillow while my life spins out of control around me.

I throw the pillow to the side and grab my laptop so I can log into the site to see what’s going on. It’s no surprise that hundreds of messages asking when I’m going to go live again flood my inbox, along with dozens of propositions and inappropriate photos.

But one message draws my attention.

She has some balls, messaging me after she stood me up.

Don’t look at it, Flynn. Just let it go. Ignore her.

Any other night, I might have. I would have deleted it and moved on. But something forces me to click on the message from INEEDSOMED.

INEEDSOMED

Where were you tonight? I can’t believe I got stood up by a guy who jerks off online. I don’t know why I thought you were a nice guy. I’m obviously a pretty shitty judge of character. I wish you all the success in the future with your website.

Stood her up?

HRD4U

What are you talking about? I was there. You stood me up. I spent the whole night at the bar talking with my best friend, who happened to show up too and stayed after her date was a no-show.

I hit enter and stare at my message for a few seconds.

It’s nothing but a jumble of letters at first. Then they slowly form into the words I typed. Then the sentences.

Holy shit.

The realization comes so fast, it’s like a blinding-white light on the front of the train before it slams into you. My breath whooshes from my lungs. My heart slams against my ribs so hard, it actually hurts.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was Rachel. It’s always been Rachel.

And if I just figured it out, so did she.

How could I have been so fucking stupid?

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