Page 9 of Unfaithfully Yours

SEVEN

Kamran

“Hey!” someone shouted behind me.

I jerked back from the machine I was about to open, heart jumping as I swiveled around to see my supervisor, Jim, rushing toward me, looking pale.

“What the hell?” I asked as he reached me.

“You didn't turn the damn thing off!” he shouted.

He gave me a look and then reached past me to hit the machine’s switch before turning to face me like I had almost jumped into traffic.

I looked at the large power press, suddenly feeling sick.

“That could have sucked you in, man,” he chastised, placing a hand on his heart. “You didn't even disconnect the fucking power. Where is your head ?”

I couldn’t even draw him a map.

“Not here, that's for fucking sure,” I grumbled. “Sorry man.”

He still had his hand to his heart, his red face coming back to a normal color now that crisis had been averted.

“I need to get some air then I'll come back to it.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, go have a smoke or something. Come back when you're thinking straight.”

I patted his shoulder as I passed.

“Thanks Jim.”

I hadn't smoked in years, but Jim didn't know that and for some reason, the way he'd said it, like it would ground me made me think that yes , having a smoke would be a great fucking idea.

So, I went to the shop on the corner, got a pack and a lighter and ended up behind the factory, lighting up for the first time in five years.

The first puff tasted like shit and had me coughing up half a lung. The second wasn't much better.

Leaning against the brick wall, I focused on the bitter taste of smoke in my mouth. How had I ever smoked this shit regularly? It was disgusting. Thank God Melissa had convinced me to stop.

She hadn't liked the smell, and it had always made her cough. At the time, I couldn't run like I used to either and I got breathless going up a set of stairs if there was one step too many, so it had seemed like a no brainer.

And it turned out that quitting was easy when it was negatively impacting someone you loved.

Now though, I thought, fuck it. I should start smoking in the bedroom. Let her suffer a bit for what she'd done…

Except, I wasn't sure I had a leg to stand on anymore because Ryan ....

I shut my eyes, remembering too vividly for my liking the things I'd been too drunk to care about at the time. Like the feeling of Ryan's cock against mine.

The fact that a make out session had happened twice now was enough to make me feel like I was living in the twilight zone.

Ending up accidentally underneath him while he felt me up was a stretch once . Twice, and I probably had to admit it wasn't much of an accident at all.

I pulled out another cigarette, seeking something to do with my hands.

This time, it didn't burn as much going down. By the second or third puff, it actually felt kind of okay. Calming.

I shut my eyes and took another drag, releasing it slowly while the news that Ryan wasn't straight circulated in my head again, like it had been doing on a loop since waking up on Saturday morning.

Ryan had behaved normally. So had I. But every now and then, our gazes would catch, and I knew we were both thinking about the fact that I'd woken up in his bed. Still dressed, only because Ryan was a motherfucking gentleman while I had been ready to do… anything .

I hadn't even known what would happen. I'd just wanted Ryan to take the reins. For him to make me feel good and wanted.

I guess I'd been using him.

Inside, I must have known that he would say yes. That he was into men.

The thing was, if I did know that beforehand, I had no recollection of when that realization had come. He had never acted gay, whatever that meant. I'd never seen him checking out men. He'd never gone home with one on any night when I'd been there to see it happen.

He hooked up with girls occasionally but never dated them. At least, I had thought that he’d been hooking up with girls here and there. I didn’t exactly have evidence.

Yet when he'd said that he wasn’t straight, I hadn't been surprised.

I snorted.

Yeah, well, his dick had been pretty hard, so maybe that was why.

But mine had been hard too. Rubbing together would do that to a guy...

My thoughts were going in circles and I kept cutting it off right there. Every time they started to move in the direction of me, it was like I'd suddenly had enough of it. I didn't want to face it.

But the truth was hard to ignore.

I'd liked it.

I'd liked how he felt. How he smelled. How he kissed. How he sounded moaning and whispering in the dark.

I took a shuddering breath, my heart skidding into my ribs, cock thickening in my work pants.

Fuck. I couldn't get hard thinking about Ryan. Not when I wasn't drunk and desperate for affection.

Sometimes lately, I felt like I was starving for it. Like I'd do anything to be touched and loved.

And Ryan was so good at delivering. Even that first hug had soothed something inside me. It wasn’t enough though. I wanted more.

“Shit,” I moaned and tried to take another puff before realizing that I'd smoked the entire thing.

I tossed the butt and pushed off the wall. I really should get back inside. That machine wasn't going to maintain itself. It needed fresh juices. It was already squeaking while it worked.

But I was sporting a half chub, and my mind was still miles away.

I didn't think I could do anything useful right now. I didn't know whether I was coming or going. Or if I wanted to be coming in a different way with a certain friend of mine, or should be going far, far away from him.

I went inside, found Jim almost straight away and just shook my head.

“I'm going home,” I informed him.

He didn't look remotely surprised.

“You don't look right, Kamran. Try to get some rest, drink some chicken soup, and don't come back until you can oil the machines without killing yourself.”

I chuckled dryly.

“That might take a while.”

He shook his head and patted my shoulder.

“Seriously, take all the time you need.”

Heaving a sigh, I nodded and left the factory, climbing gratefully into my car to head home.

It wasn't until I was halfway there, sitting at a red light, that I thought of Melissa—specifically of the fact that she could be home right now.

She knew I was at work. She wouldn't expect me back.

Maybe she'd taken the day off to hook up with her guy.

Maybe I was about to walk in on her getting fucked in our bed.

I couldn't breathe. I almost turned around, but even though my hands were shaking, I kept going until I pulled around the corner onto our street and saw that there were no cars in the driveway.

My heart was pounding so hard that I had to pull in and sit there for five minutes trying to breathe.

This stress was going to give me a fucking heart attack.

Groaning, I climbed out of the car and hauled my ass into the house, up the stairs, and straight into the bed that I'd been afraid would be occupied.

I pulled the covers up around me and buried my face in my pillow.

Aggravatingly, I couldn't help but notice that it wasn't as comfy as Ryan's bed was.

And it didn't smell like him. Maybe I was nose blind to my own scent because my pillow smelled like nothing.

.. and I shouldn't want Ryan's fucking cologne or whatever all over my bed anyway! What the hell was wrong with me?!

Frustrated, I reached out, grabbing Melissa's pillow instead and putting it over my face, basically smothering myself, because why not? She was already fucking killing me.

I inhaled as deeply as I could, taking in the soft floral tones of her shampoo and the familiar scent of her. She smelled like spring. Sweet, and light and not as good asRyan.

I didn't think I even liked her scent at all.

I pushed her pillow aside, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what this new obsession was as I slowly sat up.

Ryan had loaned me a shirt on Saturday morning because mine was dirty. I'd worn it home, and then changed as soon as I got in because I could smell him all over me.

Pushing to my feet, I went to the closet, opening it to find the soft green T-shirt. It was folded up on a shelf because I hadn’t thought I'd gotten it dirty, but when I lifted it to my face, like a creep, and inhaled, it smelled like my BO. I sighed. God I was gross.

I turned the shirt away from the pits, inhaling from the chest area and there, right there. Fucking heaven.

My dick got so hard so fast smelling Ryan's fucking shirt of all things that I couldn't even begin to protest or make excuses or even pretend I wasn't going to come right now while I had a minute to myself and this goldmine of fabric that made my toes curl with want.

I hurried back into bed, the shirt fisted against my nose, eyes practically rolling when I breathed it in. Reaching down, I stuffed my hand into my pants, taking my cock in a tight hold and stroking fast because I knew I wasn't going to last anyway.

I couldn't get enough of this smell, of Ryan's phantom presence. I imagined it on him, of my face pressed to his skin, of his hand instead of mine.

My mouth opened on a groan, I bit down on the fabric, hips lifting into his fist.

“Fuck,” I gasped and gripped the base of my cock, feeling the intense spasms as my balls clenched, emptying.

The shirt was over my eyes now, covering my entire face while I gasped for air, blocking out the rest of the world so that I didn't yet have to face what I had just done and what exactly it meant.

My phone started to ring but, still catching my breath, I let it go to voicemail until it started again.

Sighing, I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, seeing Melissa's name and picture light the screen. Her smiling face looked like it knew something... like it was judging me.

Hiding from it, I swiped to answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, sounding chipper. “How's your day going?”

“Shit,” I said. “I came home. Wasn't feeling great.”

She paused.

“Oh... Maybe I should come home and take care of you?”

She didn't sound like she wanted to and understanding made me squeeze my eyes shut.

“Why? Are you planning on working late again?”

“My boss wants some stuff done,” she agreed, guilt practically dripping from her voice. “I was going to stay pretty late.”

My jaw grit, post orgasmic relaxation evaporating.

“I don't have to,” she went on. “I'll let them know?—”

“Don't bother,” I interrupted. “Ryan's going to take care of me.”

The words just flew right out, and I knew right then that I was going to make it happen.

I didn’t know if it was because I wanted to stick it to her, to get on even ground, or if that was just an excuse, but a rebellious shiver traveled through me.

“Are you sure?” she asked slowly.

“Yeah,” I breathed, anticipation rushing through my veins. “I'm sure he won’t mind. I'll head over to his place later.”

She was silent.

“Okay, well... if that's really what you want...”

How did she always make it sound like I was the one disappointing her ?

“You know, you've been really busy lately,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I really can come home. They can't make me stay late.”

“But do you want to?” I demanded. “It doesn't seem like you ever actually want to see me.”

“That's not true,” she argued.

“You barely even want to talk,” I found myself arguing right back, pushing to sit up in bed, ignoring the come still sticky on my hand. “We have things that we should be discussing but you never want to spend any time with me.”

“Oh, that's rich,” she laughed. “You didn't even come home on Saturday night.”

“I didn't think you wanted me to!”

“Look, we'll talk tomorrow,” she snapped. “I'm staying late tonight. Just go to Ryan's place.”

With that, she hung up, not even letting my petty ass get the last word.

I considered ringing her back just to shout Fuck you, I know what you've been doing! but instead, I pushed to my feet, pacing the room furiously until I turned and punched the washroom door.

It swung open on its hinges, crashing into the wall behind it, probably leaving a dent.

Heart still pounding with fury, I went to the shower, stripped off and then climbed under the hot water. When it pelted down onto me, I didn't know if I wanted to scream or cry, or both.

All I knew was that I hoped Ryan would want me when I showed up at his door.

Please! Fucking hell, I couldn't take any more rejection.

I wanted him to want—no, need me. I needed him to.

I needed to be irresistible and worth loving.

Oh god. Was that what I wanted now? Was that what my desperate, broken-down soul craved?

Ryan's love? Or just anyone's? Or was it Ryan specifically because he was my best friend, the only person I’d always trusted more than Melissa.

I tried to calm myself, but it was no use. I felt like I was a wet rag that had been rung through. When I climbed out of the shower and saw myself that was basically what I looked like too.

My eyes were red, heavy stubble covered my jaw and my hair was tangled and wet. I had a slouch that I didn't think I could shake and I could barely even meet my own gaze because I looked so fucking broken.

I forgot to call Ryan and tell him I was coming. Forgot to even dry my hair. I just got dressed on auto pilot feeling like I was in pieces and hoped that Ryan knew how to put me back together again.