Chapter 1
*A/N: This one is pretty far outside of my normal genre but I got this idea in my head and just had to write it down. It is a short one (only about 10,000 words) so if you're looking for a quick, mildly entertaining, slighlty kooky read, this is the short story for you!*
“What the fuck is that?!” I shout to the mirror as I squint at my belly.
Is that a fucking stretch mark?! Come on, I know I’ve put on a few pounds recently but a stretch mark?! Seriously?!
I start furiously googling how to get rid of it as I throw the crop-top I was about to wear on top of “the chair” aka the pile of clothes that are not clean but not quite dirty enough to go into the laundry basket. I’ve never been the type of girl to starve herself or kill herself at the gym and the cellulite on my thighs and the extra weight on my tummy never bothered me. I mean sure, I go to the gym, but I also enjoy burgers and cupcakes and I’m not in the business of denying myself those simple pleasures.
I order a bottle of vitamin E from Amazon and then opt for a tank top that covers my belly and grab my bag as I head out the door to go surprise my boyfriend. He got promoted yesterday and I ordered some special toys to celebrate with him. Damn it if I’m going to let a little stretch mark deter me from that.
You know what would make me feel better? An iced caramel latte. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll stop on the way to grab one.
I park beside John’s building and grab my bag from the passenger seat. When I go to grab my coffee, the lid remains in my hand while the rest of it falls onto my lap, smothering my legs in cold, sticky liquid. “Agh! Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shout into the void as I lift my ass off the seat to try and minimize the already extensive damage.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. I have spare clothes at John’s place. And my seats are leather so they’ll wash easily.
I huff again as I manoeuvre myself out of the car before assessing the puddle on the seat. I grab my gym towel from the backseat and attempt to dry my pants off as much as possible before tossing it on the mess.
I’ll go clean myself up then come back for the towel with a container of wet wipes and it’ll be okay. Yes. Good plan.
I use the code John gave me to enter the building and begin the long journey up the stairs. The elevator broke last week and they still haven’t fixed it, much to my dismay. Naturally, John lives on the 17th floor. I cringe as my sticky, wet thighs rub together while I climb.
My cheeks are warm and I feel a bead of sweat drip between my boobs when I finally get to his floor.
I don’t even care. If I have to do that twice today, it counts as my workout.
I walk to his apartment and swing the door open.
“Babe, you’re not going to believe what happened,” I call out as I walk in, dropping my bag on the floor. I pause when I hear a loud thump coming from somewhere inside the apartment.
“John?”
I hear some muffled sounds and another thump and my brain goes into survival mode as I look around for something I can use to defend myself. I settle on a rather sturdy looking lamp from the side table and head towards his room. I only get a few steps before the cord stops me. “Ugh, stupid fucking-” I swear under my breath as I yank it out of the wall before continuing on my mission.
“Who’s there? You should be warned, I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!”
Suddenly his bedroom door swings open and I squeeze my eyes shut as I go to swing at the intruder. My attack is rapidly thwarted and I scream before I hear John’s voice. “Maeve, it’s me!”
I stop screaming and open my eyes to find John standing there, holding the other end of the lamp to prevent it from whacking him upside the head.
“John?! What the hell?! Why didn’t you say anything when I called out to you! I thought you were an intruder and I almost killed you!”
“You almost killed me? With a lamp?”
“I-it’s got some heft to it! I could have left a serious mark,” I argue, as he slowly takes it from me and places it back on the table.
“But for real, why wouldn’t you just say, ‘I’m in here Maeve.’ Could have saved me a lot of stress.”
He finally looks at me and blinks a few times. “Did you piss yourself?”
“What? No!” I defend, looking down at my soggy pants. In fairness, it does kind of look like I did. “I spilled an iced coffee in the car. I was coming to surprise you and congratulate you on your big promotion and I stopped for a latte and clearly the lid wasn’t attached properly. Anyway, you get the picture. I’m gonna shower quickly, change my pants, clean my car and then I’m all yours for celebrating,” I say, placing a hand on his chest and kissing his cheek before I go to walk around him to the shower in his room.
He steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Hey, uh, how about we go clean the car now. You know, that stuff can soak right into the seats.”
“Meh, the seats are leather and I put a towel down. The seat will be fine.”
“But all the sugar, it’ll be all sticky and it’s hot out today,” he counters.
“So? I’ll bring soapy water and a cloth down,” I say, trying once again to step around him.
He stops me again and I throw my hands out to the side. “What is going on with you? I’m very sticky and am starting to get annoyed. Is there a reason you don’t want to let me shower?”
He scratches the back of his head nervously. “No, I uh…”
I squint as my brain finally begins processing recent events. “What are you hiding? Why didn’t you answer me when I called out to you?”
“Nothing! I-”
His words are cut off by a subtle, muffled thump coming from inside his room. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Don’t fuck with me John! Who’s there?!” I call and shove past him into his room and start looking around, under the bed, in the bathroom.
“Maeve! Stop this, you’re being ridiculous! There’s nothing here! You know, I really didn’t take you as the suspicious type.”
I ignore him, continuing on my search and yank open his closet door only to find a woman squatting amongst his dirty laundry wearing nothing but a set of red lingerie. And not just any woman.
“Lydia?!” I screech, “Are you fucking kidding me?! Your cousin?!”
“We’re second cousins!” she protests and I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh yeah, because that makes it SO much better!”
“Maeve, it’s not what it looks like!” John says.
“Don’t touch me you fucking weirdo!” I take a few steps back. “Go ahead, by all means, try and explain why your cousin is hiding in your closet wearing skimpy lingerie.”
“We just ran into each other at the coffee shop and we, erm…”
“You what?! Came back here to fuck her,” I gag saying that last bit and my stomach rolls. “Nope. No. this is not happening,” I say, pacing back and forth, gripping my head with my hands.
Jesus Horatio Christ this is an actual nightmare. Any minute I’m going to wake up in my bed.
“Don’t tell my mom!” he blurts out and my mouth pops so far open my jaw practically dislocates itself.
“Oh my God! This is actually happening. Holy fuck. No, absolutely not. I’m done. We’re done.”
“Wait, Maeve, don’t leave me, please!”
“Stop it, John, we are over! There is no world in which I stay with a cheater, let alone this! You know, I actually lowered my standards for you. WHAT was I thinking?!”
I really should have listened to Carmen on that one.
“Don’t talk to him like that!” Lydia says, finally clothed and joining the conversations.
“Shut up you incestuous, cousin-fucking trollop. I thought we were friends!” I seethe.
“Maeve, stop being such a bitch!” John snaps and I turn my glare on him.
“You don’t get to call me a bitch. You know what, you two deserve each other. You’ve got the combined attractiveness of a clump of hair in a shower drain.”
I spin on my heel and stomp towards the door as I start belting the song “Sweet Home Alabama” at the top of my lungs, abandoning my bag. I leave his apartment door wide open as I skip down the hallway to the staircase.
“You’re being a child! Stop this nonsense!” I vaguely hear John call out but I ignore him and continue singing until I’m safely in the stairwell.
I make it to my car and yank open the driver’s door, the sweet smell of caramel latte assaulting me, reminding me of my pants which have begun gluing themselves to my thighs.
I huff and blow an errant bit of hair out of my face as I toss the towel into the foot well on the passenger side. The seat squelches when I plop myself down but I can’t bring myself to care. At this point, getting swamp ass is the least of my worries.
I peel out of my parking spot and call my best (and probably only) friend.
“Hey girl!” Carmen answers, “I wasn’t expecting you to call. I thought you were going to John’s place?”
“I was. You will never believe the day I am having.”
I fill her in on the whole story and when I get to the part about it being Lydia in his closet, she gasps. “No! You’re joking! Lydia, as in his cousin?!”
“Yes!”
“No way!”
“Yes way!”
“Girrrrl,” she says, clearly in shock.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” she says as my car makes a strange, high-pitched whining sound. “What was that?” she asks.
“I dunno. I, uh, I should probably let you go though.”
“Yeah, okay, let me digest this information and I’ll be over tonight with Chinese takeout and wine.”
“That sounds amazing. See you tonight.”
I hang up as I hear the noise again. “No, no, no!” I whine as I see smoke coming from under my hood. The smell starts giving an acrid edge to the caramel scent and I pull over and stop the car so I can assess the damage. I pop open the hood and smoke billows out into my face as I cough.
You’re shitting me right? There’s no way this is actually my life right now.
I’m not going to pretend I am in any way, shape or form good with cars but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to have this much smoke coming out of them. I groan and grab my phone to call a tow truck.
It takes nearly an hour for one to show up and the large man wearing pants that would benefit from the addition of a belt to assist them in fully covering his ass crack attaches my car to his truck and brings me to a mechanic.
I sit down in one of the plastic chairs to wait for his damage assessment and my pants crunch, pulling slightly on a couple leg hairs as it partially unsticks.
At least it’s dry now and it no longer looks like I’ve pissed myself. Silver linings, am I right?
I open my social media and immediately change my status to single and begin erasing every trace of Lydia and John from my life.
Motherfu- no, wait, cousinfucking cunts.
I’m still angrily stabbing at my phone when my name is called.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, standing.
“Right, so your timing belt split causing some extensive damage to your camshaft. Both will have to be replaced. I’ve gotta order the parts in but I can have ’er done next Thursday.”
“A whole week?!”
“Yep.”
“Do I want to know how much that’s going to cost me?”
“About $3,000.”
I groan and wipe my hands down my face. I don’t really have $3,000 to fix it but I also don’t have money to buy a new car. It’s not like I can even pretend I have the ability to fix it myself either. I don’t even know what a camp shaft is. Sounds like a fancy name for a tent pole if you ask me. “Yeah, fine, thank you. I’ll come pick it up next Thursday. And, uh, sorry about the mess. There was an iced coffee incident.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The bell above the door dings as I walk out and I make my way to the nearest bus stop and sit on the bench with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.
Fuck this whole day. Honestly.
