~ Clay

Maybe I shouldn’t have told her about that massage chair.

I did it because I know her muscles would feel stiff and sore after driving for so long and because I know she’d want to relax. I was being thoughtful.

Now, though, as I stare at her in that chair, I realize I’ve been reckless.

Andrea looks relaxed in that chair, alright, but she also looks…sexy.

Right now, she seems completely unaware of my presence, savoring the massage. She’s wearing a thin cotton shirt, which means I can see the silhouette of her bra underneath, her firm breasts jiggling as her hips and shoulders shake against the moving chair. I can see her thighs clearly, too, since she’s leaning back and wearing shorts. That’s not what makes her sexy, though.

It’s her face or more accurately, her expression, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted to let out a moan and a triumphant ‘Yes’ every now and then. Clearly, she’s enjoying this experience and it makes me think of her enjoying something else entirely.

Fuck.

Oh, what I would give to be the one causing that expression right now, bringing her pleasure.

And taking some for myself.

Just like that, I feel heat surge up my spine and ripple throughout my body, pooling in my crotch. I push it back, though, telling myself that it’s stupid to be jealous of a massage chair and that she won’t like seeing me hard when she gets out of it.

When is she going to get out of it?

Suddenly, the chair stops wiggling, slowly resuming an upright position. A second later, Andrea opens her eyes, which grow wide when she sees me.

“What are you doing here?” Instinctively, she tries to cover herself. “Why are you watching me? That’s so rude and creepy.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just…fascinated, I guess.”

She blushes, pouting as she gets out of the chair. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I just came to ask if you wanted to have a beer with me,” I say, lifting the can in my hand, which is about the only part of me that’s still cold. “Rose is already asleep and you did say you wanted to relax. For me, a cold can of beer usually does the trick.”

“Because you’re a guy,” she says, stretching again. “For a girl, a massage or a bath usually works.”

“So, that’s a no?” I ask.

Andrea narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not trying to get me drunk so you can seduce me, are you?”

“No,” I answer quickly.

Maybe a little too quickly.

For a moment, she falls silent, tapping her fingers on the back of the chair then she nods. “Fine. I’ll have a can.”

---

Three cans later, we’re still out in the patio, Andrea talking about college and work and her sister’s wedding –all the stuff I missed. I’m pretty sure she’s drunk, too. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be talking this much.

“So, I love my sister and all. You know I do,” Andrea says. “But I really wish I hadn’t gone to her wedding. I mean everyone was asking when I was going to be next, like there’s some unwritten law somewhere that after your big sister gets married, you should get married in the next few years. Whatever happened to independence and women conquering the world and all that forward thinking?”

“I guess those disappear at weddings,” I say, taking a sip from my fourth can of beer.

“I wasn’t even the one who caught the bouquet.”

“Who did?”

“One of Rachel’s friends. I don’t remember her name.”

I nod. “Being drunk usually does that.”

“I am not drunk,” she argues, looking at me.

“Says the woman who’s had three cans of beer.”

“Two.”

“Three. And the woman who’s been babbling.”

“I’m not babbling. I’m just making conversation and you just haven’t been saying much.”

“Yeah. That’s a typical conversation between a man and a woman, isn’t it? The woman talks and the man listens and grunts every now and then.”

“Fuck you.” She throws her empty can at me.

Yup, she’s drunk, alright.

“Of course, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” she tells me. “You’ve probably had conversations with countless women and I bet in some of them, you were doing more than grunting and the women were doing more than talking.”

“You’re not jealous again, are you?”

“I’m not jealous,” she protests just as I expected.

“You’re not drunk and you’re not jealous. What are you?”

“Lonely,” she answers.

I blink. Now, I wasn’t expecting that.

“And angry because the world is so fucking unfair.” She stands up. “I mean, you get rich and more good-looking…”

I arch an eyebrow. So she finds me more good-looking, does she?

“And you have all these women coming after you. It’s just unfair.”

“Why is it unfair?” I ask curiously, leaning forward on my knees.

“Because none of those women know you. None of them know what a jerk you are.”

Ah. I knew it would somehow come to this. As much as I want to hear what Andrea has to say, this is a conversation we should be having sober.

“Come on.” I stand up and grab her arm. “You and I should go inside and get some sleep.”

“What? You want me to sleep with you?”

Well, yes but…

“No. What I’m saying is…”

“You know, that is so fucking unfair. You’ve slept with how many? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?”

Now, that’s too much. “Come on. You’re not making any sense anymore.”

“No.” She wrenches her arm away. “Not until you tell me how many.”

I don’t answer.

“How many?” she demands.

Oh, what the heck. She won’t remember it tomorrow anyway.

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” I admit.

“See.” She looks at me like she’s about to cry. “You’ve slept with so many while I…I haven’t been with anyone.”

I look at her in surprise. What?

“I thought you had…”

“I lied, okay?” she confesses. “I’ve never been in a relationship since we…since you left me. And it’s all your fault. It’s all because you just threw me away like I was some broken toy or some rotting food.”

She places her hands on top of her head as she starts sobbing.

“You have no idea about the hell I went through after you left me. I didn’t want to go back to school. I didn’t want to live anymore. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

At her words, I feel a weight on my chest.

What do I do now? Explain to her why I left? Apologize? No. Now’s not the time. Even if I did do those things, she wouldn’t remember. And she deserves to remember them.

I reach for her hand. “That’s enough, Andrea. Let’s go inside.”

“You left me.” She beats her fists against my chest. “How could you do that, huh? How could you? I thought you loved me.”

“Come on.” I try to place my arm around her.

She grabs the front of my shirt. “Didn’t you love me? Have you forgotten all about me? Don’t you care about me anymore?”

“Now, you’re really not making any sense.”

“Kiss me,” she says suddenly. “Kiss me if you ever loved me.”

Fuck. I do want to kiss her. I want to do it more than anything. But not right now. Not like this.

“Andrea…”

She kisses me, her lips crashing against mine as she puts her hands behind my neck.

What the hell?

It feels good but no, it’s not right. Now, this is fucking unfair. How can she tell me not to get hard and then kiss me like this with such abandon?

Just when I’m tempted to give in and kiss her back, she stops, slumping against my shoulder. I put my arms around her to keep her from falling, realizing that she’s no longer conscious.

Great. Just great. Kiss me and then pass out in my arms.

“I told you that you were drunk,” I tell her, putting my can of beer down so that I can carry her.

I carry her inside and up the stairs to her room, setting her down on the bed and then putting the blanket over her.

After that, I stare at her, sighing.

So, she’s a lousy drunk. That’s another thing I never knew about her.

Even though she was drunk, I knew all the things she said were true, though. She may not remember saying them but I heard every word.

You have no idea about the hell I went through after you left me.

Actually, I did try to imagine what she must have been going through after I left her. I imagined her crying into her pillow, which hurt. I imagined her sulking at school as she remembered all the things we used to do. I imagined her tearing our pictures and throwing away everything I gave her. I imagined her not going to the prom.

But then I imagined her moving on, which hurt even more. I imagined her going to college and forgetting all about me, pursuing her dream and going on dates, falling in love again.

I actually thought she was already engaged when I saw her on TV or at least, she was about to be. I was surprised when I heard neither was the case.

And I’m surprised to know that she has never been in any relationship since I left her.

It makes me a little happy, yes. I must admit that. But it also makes me realize how much I really hurt her. In thinking that she was happy, I might have been trying to console myself a little, ease my guilt. I was just being selfish.

The truth is Andrea never really moved on. I broke her that much.

It makes me wonder if I still have the right to try and win her back. It makes me question if I still deserve her. Whatever reason I had for leaving her, after all, I still hurt her. Bad.

But no matter how much I think about it, I come to the same conclusion – I still want her back. Just as badly.

I still love her.

Unable to resist, I stroke her hair with a quivering hand.

“Sorry,” I whisper softly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

She stirs, shifting to her side. She doesn’t open her eyes, though.

I move away from her bed, walking towards the door. I doubt she’ll wake up anytime soon. She drank too much. When she wakes up, though, I’m sure she won’t want to see me in her bedroom or she’ll assume the worst and get mad at me.

Actually, I already have a feeling that she’ll be mad at me when she wakes up.

---

“Oh, shit!” I hear Andrea curse from the next room in the morning.

Yup, she’s awake. And sober. And mad.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I go to her room, knocking on the door. “Um, is everything okay?”

She opens the door, one hand on her hip. “I drank too much last night, didn’t I?”

I nod slowly. “Um, yes.”

“Shit,” she mutters again, slapping her forehead. “I don’t even remember how I got here.”

“I carried you,” I inform.

Her cheeks grow red. “What?”

I shrug. “I wasn’t about to let you sleep in the patio and catch a cold.”

She shakes her head. “No. This is all your fault. You said you weren’t going to try and seduce me.”

“I just carried you. I didn’t touch you, I swear.” I lift my hands up in a gesture of innocence.

She, however, doesn’t look convinced. “So, you didn’t touch me?”

“No.”

“You didn’t kiss me?”

“No,” I tell her. “But you kissed me.”

Well, I thought she had a right to know.

At once, she clasps her hand over her mouth then she runs to the bathroom.

She’s not throwing up, is she?

Minutes later, she comes out from the walk-in closet that’s connected to the bathroom, all dressed up.

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“Out,” she answers, walking past me. “Where are the keys?”

“In the living room,” I answer.

She walks down the hall.

“Um, Andrea…”

“Please just forget everything, okay? Everything I did and everything I said.” She stops at the stairs, looking at me. “I said a bunch of foolish things, didn’t I?”

I shrug. Technically, I can’t say if they were foolish.

“Just forget everything.” She continues down the stairs. “It never happened.”

“What’s happening?” Rose asks, suddenly beside me.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” Andrea looks up from the bottom of the stairs. “Everything’s fine. I’m just going to get some air and some coffee and some of my misplaced self-respect.”

“Andrea, it’s okay,” I assure her.

“No, it’s not.” She raises a finger at me. “That was not okay. I should never have had beer with you. Needless to say, I’ll never do it again.”

“Andrea…”

“Nope.” Andrea puts on her shoes. “Not another word.”

“Andrea…” This time, it’s Andrea who speaks.

Andrea grabs the keys. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She heads towards the door.

“Andrea,” Rose and I both say at the same time.

“What?” She stops and whirls around.

Rose goes down one step. “Your shirt is inside out.”