larger than my own. It’s got an en suite bathroom and a section of his bedroom has been made over into a living room. He even has a mini fridge in the corner. It’s like his Batcave.
“It’s spinning.” I fall back.
My eyes close for a second. Suddenly I’m being pulled up. There’s a pillow under my head. I’m comfortable. But it’s still spinning and I can’t sleep. “James,” I whine, trying to shut out the image of my father’s balled fist and my mother’s cowering body.
And he’s there, smoothing the hair from my face. He makes a sign I don’t recognize. “Sleep,” he says after I stare at him. “Damn Kent,” he mumbles.
Damn Kent. James and I agree.
When I wake up I’m confused. I’m not in my bed. I’m wearing clothes I would never sleep in. I roll over and spy the shape of a man sleeping with his back to me. Panic grips me. Did we…? It takes me half a second to recognize him by his messy brown hair. I’m in James’s bed. My head is foggy and my mouth is foul tasting.
I slowly ease out of his bed so I don’t wake him. My stomach turns over and it’s all I can do to sneak out quietly. I close his bedroom door and run to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Sliding to a halt at the toilet, I drop to my knees and expel the whiskey and vodka from the night before. My head pounds as I hack into the bowl. I fall back against the wall and try not to breathe too hard.
Spying the length it will take to get to my bedroom makes me decide not to bother. I lie down on the bathroom rug and curl up, falling swiftly asleep. When I wake up I feel sore from puking but I don’t have a choice. More comes right back up. When I’m empty I force myself to my feet and turn the shower on. After peeling my clothes off, I crawl under the hot spray and wash the puke and sweat from my body. I bundle all my clothes and make a dash for my bedroom in case Kent or James happens to look down the hall at the precise moment I run past naked.
I need food.
Food need I.
I’m on my way to the living room when I hear it. Grunting and moans, skin against skin, and a female’s distinct mewing. I must still be foggy because I don’t put two and two together until I see Kent’s penis disappear between Auburn Hair’s legs. I forgot about the couch. Surprisingly, I don’t make a sound. I’m too stunned. My mouth opens in shock as his body meets hers once more. I watch as her eyes roll in the back of her head and she grips his arms as if he’s breaking her in half. Kent grunts and tosses his head back, his body embracing the darkness surrounding them.
My brain forces me to turn away. I quickly back into the hall and put my hand over my mouth. What did I just witness? Kent having insanely rough sex with Auburn Hair. The way he moved into her, so hard and deliberate, makes me embarrassed to have witnessed it and fractionally, minutely, only a little bit, excited. I slip back into my room and force myself to deal with my hangover.
Excited? I chastise myself. You’re still drunk.
Why did he have to have her angled right at the hallway? If they were behind the cushion I could have missed the anatomy lesson. I guess this means I was a good wing-woman. Should I celebrate? I sink down on top of my sheets on the floor and throw my arm over my eye.
What would it be like to be touched like that? I’ve avoided emotionless sex and men since they started showing an interest in me. Sex will happen someday, but not until I’m sure the man I chose wouldn’t leave once he got what he wanted. Kent said women were untrustworthy. So are men. Humans in general are hard to trust because lying is an option. As long as someone can lie, odds are they’re going to.
All of a sudden they reach a crescendo. Auburn Hair starts to moan so loud I’m positive he’s killing her.
“Oh, Kent, oh, right there,” she screams.
I roll over and giggle into my pillow. “Oh, Kent.”
When the screaming subsides I wonder if it’s safe to come out. I give