Page 23

Tina

T he following day is a Saturday, and I wake up feeling lighter than I have in a long time. If that’s what a good orgasm does for a girl, sign me up. I smile through my shower and practically skip into the kitchen, expecting to find Dustin sitting at the island, but instead there’s a note on the counter telling me he’s going to the gym, then meeting Blanche at the office, and doesn’t that sting a whole bunch.

I’m not at all surprised when the front door opens and Ben and Rosa stroll in, the latter with a carrier full of coffees.

“Hey.” My lackluster response gets their full attention.

“Uh-oh,” Ben says. “What did he do now?” I hand over the note. Rosa hands out coffee while Ben sips and reads. “What am I missing here?” he asks, passing the note to Rosa. “This looks like he’s… working?”

Rosa dumps the extra coffee meant for Dustin down the drain and tosses the cup and note in the trash before pulling me in for a hug. “Did you not get post-sex cuddles?”

Of course, as soon as she could, Rosa pulled me aside last night, grilling me for deets. She said, and I quote, “Spill. You have sex hair.”

Ben gasps. “What?!”

I let my forehead drop to my folded arms, admitting, “We kind of hooked up last night.”

He plops onto the stool next to me. “Whoa, this is huge… wait, is he huge?”

I roll my head to face him. “Really, that’s what you want to know?”

He makes a “well, duh” face, holding his hands apart like a yardstick. “Just give me a ballpark.”

Rosa comes to my defense. “Stop teasing her. Can’t you see she’s distraught?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Because now he’s with her.”

Ben looks puzzled. “Her? You mean Blanche? No way,” he says, shaking his fluffy head.

“Have you seen her?”

“Have you seen you?” he counters. “Come on, sunshine. You’re every straight man’s fantasy with all those curves and sweet face. You’re the complete package.”

I blush at his compliment. “Thanks. But you’re my friend, you have to say that.”

“I don’t have to say shit,” he argues.

Rosa laughs. “It’s true. If anyone’s going to tell you the truth, it’s gonna be us.” She nudges my cup towards me. “Now, drink this, and let’s do some retail therapy before Ben and I have to leave for the airport.”

Still not comfortable spending money on myself, I let the other two buy and buy and buy, hoping to get a second-hand high from watching. So far, it isn’t working. During a lull in their fashion shows, I go over my night with Dustin. At one point, during the fight, he switched seats with Rosa so he could sit next to Lucius. It was as if it never happened. When we got back to the house he went straight to his room. I lay in bed half the night expecting him to join me and the other half wondering if I’d imagined it all.

Whispering catches my attention. The two girls take my noticing them as an invitation and approach. One holds her phone out. “Is this you?”

Frowning, I look at the blog post on her screen. With a shaky hand, I scroll, reading the short article about Dustin’s appearance at the fight last night and speculation about the mystery woman he’s with. There are pictures too. Shot after shot of me and Dustin. In each one, we look like a couple even to me. Holding hands, exiting the alcove with what Rosa called “sex hair” and buying Icees.

At least now I know it was all real. My silence is all the proof the girls need. They immediately go all fangirl on me and start firing off questions. Does Dustin smell as good as he looks? What’s his family like? Are we getting married?

“Is who getting married?” Rosa asks, coming out of the dressing room in her own clothes. Ben soon follows, his gaze darting from person to person. I jump up and grab them both, then drag them out of the store. When I look back the girls are holding up their phones.

In the back of the Uber, Rosa and Ben are busy reading the blogger’s page.

“This is… in-depth,” Rosa says. “They must’ve stayed up all night digging up this stuff.” ‘This stuff’ being my life and Dustin’s.

“You should look at your social,” Ben suggests.

Like most, I have social media accounts, but it’s been years since I’ve posted or even looked at them. The thought of seeing all the pictures of me and Connor made me feel sick. I’m not sure I want to now either, but I do.

Overnight I’ve gained hundreds of followers and twice as many messages from strangers wondering how long Dustin and I have been together. I get swept up in looking at old pictures of me, Connor, and Dustin, noticing in so many of them Dustin and I look more like a couple than Connor and I do. Others pick up on it too, questioning if we were hooking up behind Connor’s back. My fingers are typing my denial before I can think clearly. The instant I hit send, responses start popping up. Liar. Cheat. Two-face .

“That’s enough of that,” Rosa says, snatching the phone from my hand when I whimper.

After I say goodbye to Ben and Rosa, I busy myself doing housework. I’ve logged off social media, vowing never to look at it again. Who cares what those strangers think? I’m not going to let them ruin my life, and since Dustin hasn’t called me freaking out about it, I won’t freak out either.

I don’t know what’s happening between me and Dustin, whether it’s a fling or what, but I know I want more of what we did last night. I can be a mature adult and have hot hookups like other women. So what if my heart aches a little at the thought of Dustin with someone else? I tell myself it’s because I’m not used to this yet. It’ll take practice, is all. And what better time than tonight? With this in mind, I slip on the dress he said was his favorite with the little buttons down the front. I take my time with my hair and make-up and by six I’m feeling sexy and ready for round two.

Around seven p.m. a text from Dustin comes through, telling me he’ll be working late and not to wait up.

I’m ready for this emotional rollercoaster of a day to be over. But first, I let myself have a tiny tantrum, ripping my dress down the center and watching as the buttons scatter across the kitchen floor.

Sometime later, I’m woken by the unmistakable sound of a woman’s giggle. The hall light turns on and through the crack in my door I see shadows move past. Dustin’s bedroom door opens and closes and in minutes his bed starts a rhythmic creak. It may have been a while for me, but even I know this tune. Working late obviously means something different to Dustin than it does to me. In my head, I’m storming in there demanding answers, but in reality, I’m frozen in shock as the sounds of Dustin having sex with Blanche filter through the thin walls.

Then the unthinkable happens.

Heat pools between my legs, demanding attention. I’ve never been this up close and personal to people having sex before. I’m sure any normal person in the same boat would respond the same as me. At least that’s what I tell myself as I move one of my hands beneath my shorts. I imagine Dustin bracing his weight above me, his shoulders straining with the effort.

A sigh—mine, hers, maybe both—fills the room at the first dip of my fingers between my folds. Unconsciously, I match my thrusts with the banging of their headboard, each bump of my palm against my clit bringing me closer to release. My hips rise off the bed, feeling the deep rumble of his voice as he coaxes and encourages.

“That’s my girl,” he says, and I pretend his words are meant for me.

My orgasm crashes into me like a tidal wave, the flood coating my fingers. As I come down off the high of my release, the reality of what just happened sinks in, and I begin feeling the hurt like a lead weight. Even so, I listen as they both finish soon after me, Blanche with a satisfied cry and Dustin with soothing words—almost loving.

After a bit, there’s movement in their room. A toilet flushing. Water running in the bathroom. With their hookup over, I expect to hear the front door closing, but it never comes. What does come, though, is Blanche. Over and over again.

Two hours later, I’ve given up on sleep. I roll out of bed feeling all kinds of uneasy at the thought of running into them. Am I supposed to make them breakfast? Pretend I didn’t hear them going at it all night? How do other people do this and survive with their hearts intact? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m not the type of person to hit it and quit it, as Ben would say.

It’s still dark out when I finish showering and dressing for the day. My hurt has turned into irritation. Why didn’t Dustin take her somewhere else? Or at least to one of the rooms farther away from mine, for crying out loud? I have every right to demand he does so in the future, and if last night is an example, I’m sure there will be plenty of instances. The thought makes me even angrier. How would he feel if I brought Cliff home one night?

I slam kitchen cupboards and drawers as I gather ingredients for omelets. “See if I don’t do just that, mister.”

“Do just what, exactly?” Dustin asks behind me.