Page 2 of To Her

Geri

"Should've woken me when you got home," I muttered to myself, pushing my long black hair away from my face.

Six months into this relationship, and I still wasn't used to his schedule—or the way he'd slip into bed in the early hours, smelling of other people's perfume and cigarettes and the sticky sweetness of spilled drinks.

I stretched, feeling the familiar pop in my lower back, and contemplated joining him in the shower. The thought was interrupted by the buzzing of Ben's phone on the nightstand. Once, twice, three times in quick succession.

I glanced at it with mild annoyance. Who the hell was texting so frantically this early? Probably one of his DJ friends with some crisis about tonight's gig. Ben was always getting dragged into other people's drama.

The phone buzzed again, and I reached for it, mostly to stop the irritating sound. The name "Jess" flashed on the screen with a little heart emoji next to it.

Jess? I didn't know a Jess. At least, not one that Ben had ever mentioned.

I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the notification.

I wasn't the type to snoop through my boyfriend's phone.

Trust issues? Sure, I had them by the truckload, but I'd been working on that.

Six months with Ben had been good for me.

Stable. Almost boring sometimes, but in a way that felt safe.

The phone buzzed again. Five messages now.

"Fuck it," I whispered, swiping to open the conversation. I told myself I was just going to reply that Ben was in the shower and would text back soon. That's what a normal, secure girlfriend would do, right?

But as the message thread loaded, my stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles.

I had so much fun last night thanks for 3 awesome orgasms

The words blurred as my vision tunnelled. I blinked hard, certain I'd misread. But no, there it was, followed by:

Still feel you inside me

When can I see you again?

Ben?

You up yet?

Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. I scrolled up, my thumb moving of its own accord, revealing weeks of messages. Flirty at first, then explicit. Pictures. Plans to meet. Last night's plans.

While I'd been home waiting, nursing that extra glass of wine.

The shower was still running. Steam billowed from under the bathroom door, and suddenly all I could think about was how hot water feels on skin. On her skin. On his. Together.

I didn't remember standing up. Didn't remember walking to the bathroom. But suddenly I was there, his phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles had gone white.

I pushed the door open without knocking. The bathroom was a sauna, mirror fogged, Ben's silhouette visible through the frosted glass of the shower door. He was humming something—one of the tracks he'd played last night, probably.

"Having a good morning?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Too calm. Too controlled.

Ben's humming stopped. "Babe? That you?"

I looked down at the phone in my hand, then back at his shadowy figure. "Who's Jess?"

The silence that followed was all the confirmation I needed.

"Geri, I can explain?—"

"Explain what?" The calm was evaporating rapidly, replaced by a heat that had nothing to do with the steam filling the bathroom. "Explain how you fucked someone else last night while I was waiting for you to come home?"

"It's not?—"

I yanked the shower door open. Ben stood there, water streaming down his body, eyes wide with shock and something else. Guilt. Unmistakable guilt.

"Not what? Not what it looks like?" I thrust the phone toward his face, screen first. "Because it looks like you gave some girl named Jess three—her words—'awesome orgasms' last night instead of coming home to me."

He reached for a towel, as if modesty was somehow relevant now. "Geri, please, just let me?—"

The rage that had been building exploded through me like a tsunami. I didn't think. Didn't plan. My arm just moved, smashing the phone against his face with all the strength I could muster.

"Six months!" I screamed as he stumbled backward, hand flying to his cheek where the phone had connected. "Six fucking months I trusted you!"

"Jesus Christ, Geri!" Blood trickled from a small cut below his eye. "You're fucking crazy!"

"I'm crazy? I'M CRAZY?" My voice echoed off the bathroom tiles. "You're the one who couldn't keep your dick in your pants for six goddamn months!"

I hurled the phone into the shower where it clattered against the tiles and slid down the drain end. Water splashed everywhere—on the floor, on my pyjamas, on the bathmat.

"That's my phone!" Ben lunged for it, slipping slightly.

"Good luck explaining to Jess why it doesn't work anymore," I spat, backing toward the door. "I'm sure she'll understand. She sounds very accommodating."

"Where are you going?" He was out of the shower now, towel hastily wrapped around his waist, water and blood dripping onto the floor.

"Away from you." I turned and stormed out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and toward the front door.

"Geri, wait! You can't just—you're in your pyjamas!"

I didn't care. I grabbed my keys and phone from the entry table and yanked the front door open.

"Geri!"

I slammed the door behind me, cutting off whatever pathetic excuse he was about to offer.

The concrete of the apartment walkway was cold and wet against my bare feet—we'd had rain overnight—but I barely noticed.

All I could feel was the white-hot rage coursing through my veins, propelling me forward, away from the apartment, away from Ben, away from the shattered remains of what I'd stupidly thought was a good relationship.

Six months. Six months of my life wasted on another lying, cheating asshole.

I made it halfway down the block before I realized I was crying, hot tears streaming down my face to match the water dripping from my pyjama bottoms. I had nowhere to go, no plan, just the keys in one hand and my phone in the other, and the absolute certainty that I was never going back.