Page 225 of S is for SEX

THREEFOLD

RAIN

I sat on my bed, reading, as I wondered if all girls felt the way I felt. Being female, adult, and single was a very difficult thing for a person to have to try and fully understand. I closed my book and looked at the clock. Ethan had already left for a half day of work, leaving Cade and me home on a Saturday, and Cade wasn’t out of bed yet.

8:00? Who sleeps this late?

Instead of using the upstairs bathroom, I walked to the downstairs bathroom, and turned the lights and fan on. The toilet seat was upright from Ethan peeing and not lowering the seat, something he often did which drove Cade crazy. Instead of lowering the seat quietly, I tapped it with my hand and let it fall loudly onto the stool.

Crack!

I grinned at the thought of it waking Cade, and sat down to pee. As I was washing my hands, I heard Cade’s bedroom door open. I quickly dried my hands and stepped into the living room.

“Oh my God, I was exhausted, what a shit week. That presentation for Learjet all but killed me,” he said as he stood from the couch.

I walked past him and glanced in his direction as he made his way to the bathroom. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a ribbed tank top, something I wasn’t used to seeing him in. For him, dressing down for the evening and unwinding was unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt and rolling them up a little.

“Sorry you had a bad week, you weren’t even home when I went to bed last night. I wondered what happened to you,” I said over my shoulder as I sat on the loveseat.

“Me too,” he said through the bathroom door.

He walked from the bathroom to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

“Coffee,” he asked.

“Black,” I responded. “Please.”

After pouring the coffee, he walked back into the living room, handed me the cup of coffee and sat down across from me on the couch.

“I hate my job,” he said.

I took a sip of my coffee, and spoke over the cup. “I thought you loved your job.”

“I do, it just sucks when I’ve got a huge presentation. I have to work 12 or 14 hour days, and I hate it,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to straighten it into a manageable mess.

It was apparent just how much hair he had when he woke up, and hadn’t fixed it yet. Although the sides were probably only an inch or two long, the top of it was 6 or 8 inches long. Straight out of bed, it looked like a rat’s nest.

“Just give up.” I chuckled. “Your hair, not the job.”

“Is it bad?” he asked. “I didn’t look when I was in the bathroom.”

“It’s cute,” I said.

He scrunched his nose and raised his coffee cup. “Cute?”

“Yeah, the good kind of cute. It’s fine,” I assured him.

“Okay. Anyway, yeah. At times I hate my job,” he said.

I squeezed my coffee cup in my hands, and pressed my arms into my boobs. “I love mine.”

“There’s not too many people who could do that without complaining. Taking care of someone like that is admirable,” he said as he stood.

“It’s not a big deal, I enjoy it, and he’s really nice,” I said.

“What’s his name?” he asked over his shoulder as he dug through the cabinets.

I stood from my seat and walked to the bar and sat down.

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