Carey

 

Carey felt strange as she put her clothes back on. As they got dressed, Owen seemed to her to be more distant, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that now that he’d gotten what he wanted out of her, that was it—time to pack up and get home. Indeed, once he was dressed, he made for the bedroom without saying a word, apparently simply assuming that Carey would follow him. Having no choice, that’s just what she did.

 

“Um, where to now?” she asked.

 

“Not sure,” he said. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

 

Carey felt more and more foolish by the second. Looking over Owen, taking note of his tattoos, thinking about just what kind of man he was, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d been played somehow, that he’d swindled her. She wondered what if all of this, the whole day that they’d had, had been some sort of plan from the start to get into her pants?

 

There’s no way a man like him, some biker criminal, treats girls like this for any other reason than getting a quick fuck here and there, she thought.

 

Heading down the stairs, she felt her mood plummet. Carey wasn’t sure what she wanted, possibly nothing more than reassurance that he wasn’t planning on tossing her to the curb. But even asking that struck her as desperate and insecure. She felt she had no recourse for how she felt, no way to feel better.

 

What the hell was I thinking? she asked herself, rubbing her arms with her hands in an effort to self-soothe. I just gave it up to some biker guy that I’d just met. What am I, some kind of slut?

 

As soon as they stepped outside, Carey’s mood hit its nadir. All she wanted was to get back to Lily’s, to get under the covers of the bed in the shitty little room where she was staying and to forgot about everything that had happened.

 

“Can you … take me home now?” she asked.

 

Owen turned his eyes to her, his thick eyebrows slightly raised. “Back to Lily’s?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice small.

 

“You got it.”

 

He hopped back on the bike and she followed after him. When her arms were around him, however, the feeling of his body against hers was now more like a mockery of how she’d felt before. Where his touch and scent had been intoxicating, now it was repelling, just a reminder of how she’d foolishly given in to her passions with this man who she barely knew. The motorcycle roared to life, and soon they were on their way. Carey spent the ride to Lily’s scolding herself, wishing that she could go back in time and resist her urges.

 

I mean, the sex was great, she thought, but now what? What else can I expect from a man like this?

 

Then a sinking feeling hit her gut.

 

Oh, God, she thought, what if my family found out? They’d disown me for sleeping with a man like this, especially since they’re trying so hard to get me set up with that little asshole Brady.

 

Her mind was a whirlwind of anxiety and restless thoughts. Carey had no idea why she was now feeling so overwhelmed by everything, but she knew that she’d made a mistake. Now, all she could do was go home and hope to put it out of her mind as quickly as she could.

 

What do I even want? she thought, still holding tight onto Owen. For this guy to tell me he loves me or something? Guys like this don’t say things like that. Guys like this do exactly what he just did—wow some girl, fuck her, and move on to the next one. I bet he’s got a damn stable of biker chicks who he can fuck on command. I was probably just a little break from routine.

 

They soon arrived back at Lily’s place. By the time the bike pulled up in front of the house, Carey was eager to get off and back inside to start the process of putting this day behind her.

 

“See you around,” said Owen, his voice as cool and calm as ever.

 

“Bye,” said Carey, hopping off of the bike and scrambling towards the door, not looking back once.

 

The bike roared as Lily reached the front door. Once inside, Carey was greeted with the sight of Lily seated at the dining room table, a pile of applications in front of her that she was eagerly filling out.

 

“Hey!” she said, her voice chipper. “Was that a, uh, motorcycle that I just heard?”

 

The last thing Carey wanted to do was to explain the events of the afternoon to Lily. Carey realized that if she was that hard on her own brother for running around with guys like Owen, she likely wouldn’t be too pleased that her friend had fucked him.

 

“No,” said Carey. “I mean, yes. I got a taxi and a motorcycle passed us by while he was dropping me off.”

 

Smooth, thought Carey, realizing that lying had never been one of her strong suits.

 

“Oh,” said Lily, apparently not too interested in figuring out if Carey was telling the truth or not. “Anyway, how did the job hunt go?”

 

Fuck, thought Carey. Not like I made any progress on that front either. One more thing to lie about, I guess.

 

“Nothing too promising,” she said, plopping into a seat across from Lily.

 

“Oh, well that’s fine,” said Lily, “because I got, like, ten leads on jobs. I went to a bunch of restaurants in the nice part of town outside of the downtown area and a bunch of them were hiring. And plenty of them said that they’d be interested in two waitresses, assuming you’re into that kind of work.”

 

“Um, sounds great,” said Carey. “But I still have to check in with that artist in town who I’m gonna be working with.”

 

“Okay, well, do that tomorrow and then we can get the job thing figured out. Then, after that, we can start looking at apartments!”

 

She then let out an excited squeal as she balled her hands into tight little fists. Carey, however, couldn’t muster up matching enthusiasm.

 

“What’s up, girl?” asked Lily, putting down her pen.

 

“Nothing,” she said, looking away.

 

“That bummed about having to work for a living?”

 

“No,” said Carey. “I’m just really exhausted for some reason.”

 

“Oh, that’s looking for jobs for you. It always wears me out too for some reason, even if it’s just picking up applications. We can go grab some food later; that’ll do you some good.”

 

Carey hated lying, but she felt even worse about how the day had gone. And still, despite herself, all she could see when she closed her eyes were Owen’s ice-blue eyes, locked in that same sultry expression that they had when he’d looked her over just before pouncing on her with a kiss. She couldn’t help but feel the damage was done—he’d gotten under her skin, and now all she could do was figure out how to live with it.