You’d think I’d be getting sick of this at my age.
Living in a frat-life college town, graduated over a year ago, can’t seem to find decent paying work in the interior design field. A degree in fine arts should make me more marketable, right? Actually degrees, plural. Nope, no one gives a shit. They all prefer someone with experience. How can you gain experience if you can’t get a job?
My parents had offered me a position at their realty firm—they’d pushed for me to go for business—but that would require change. And change is hard, not to mention... uncomfortable.
Anyway, been content working at the same little off-campus coffee shop for the last few years, and it’s paid the bills up till now, so why not? Did the college thing, which took for-fucking-ever. It used to be a good time, but lately, I’m over it. This same old song and dance isn’t as fun anymore.
“You like that?”
“Mm-hmm...” I study my fingernails with absolute and shockingly obvious disinterest. Not in my nails. These bitches need a manicure. Pale pink paint chipping slightly at the corners. I should do better with self-care.
I lazily balance on all fours, knees and elbows if we’re getting technical, the scorching Arizona sun casting searing rays of light through the window, making me itchy. Why’s it always sunny here? Internally, I groan, taking in the obsessive and orderly state of his room. Not my boyfriend, because he doesn’t do labels.
“How ’bout this?” he asks, as if it’s truly a question. No. He’s not asking... he’s saying it out loud, probably thinking, that’s hot? He more than likely has a premium subscription to some porn site, and is legit speaking the scripted words.
I’m sure dirty talk or whatever could be sexy. However, I think that depends on the partner.
Here’s the thing. I have yet—and I’m embarrassed to admit this at twenty-four—to have an orgasm from just the physical anatomy of a man. I mean it. Fingers, tongue, dick... Nada.
Not that I haven’t ever. Of course, I have. Got all sorts of power tools to help with that, and the feeling is incredible. But from sex or even foreplay—batteries not included? Nope. Never.
Talk about a fucking buzzkill.
A sharp—and definitely not reading the audience—palm connects with the skin of my bare ass. A shock wave rushes straight to my brain, screaming at me, what the hell are you doing?
“Feels. So. Good.” Austin grunts out annoying breathy groans in time with his words, driving into me like an energizer bunny.
“Maybe for you,” I say, smacking a hand over my mouth. Wait, was that out loud? I stay frozen on the white comforter, military-style corners securely tucked under the sides of his mattress.
“Huh?” His confused voice cracks out from behind me.
“That’s nice,” I reply, quickly recovering from my momentary filter dysfunction.
No. A hot cup of coffee early in the morning, a lovely bouquet, a new outfit—that shit’s nice. This is fucking blah!
Here’s the problem...
I’m an only child, born into a prominent family. My parents are known socialites, and fairly renowned in the real estate industry—at least back home. They constantly reminded me I was representing them growing up. All of my choices and decisions could reflect on them and potentially affect their business negatively.
Formally raised as a well-bred show pony, if you will. Trained to appear completely put together, to be on my best behavior, to always slap a polite smile on my face, and be extra with the please and thank you’s. Honestly, that shit is for the birds. The crazy things running through my mind have been begging to slip out.
It’s been years of this, and sadly, the soft, mostly kind nature of the people I’ve come into contact with, in the southwest—not that I fault the Zen attitude—has done little to help me break out of my shell.
So my that’s nice is more or less a much tamer and socially acceptable alternative to saying; Go fuck yourself.
I continue examining the chip of polish at the top of my middle finger, reflecting on the events from earlier today. Liz, my employer, told me they’re shutting down, because they can’t compete with the monster companies that swooped in, who ultimately eat up all the unique and incredible local businesses.
Anyway, I came over here to talk, to vent. And what did he do? What he always does. Turns the convo into something about himself and enjoys the comfort of my obedient nature—on the outside. How’d we end up in here? Because I’m a pushover, allowed myself to fall into the same routine. Instead of sharing my frustration, I became the same doormat Austin was used to. Yes, Austin, last name fucking Powers, and he is definitely not making me horny.
Get out that solid laugh. I’ve absolutely wanted to on multiple occasions. Imagine? I mean, it’s not like his parents knew. He was born way before that shit came out.
We’ve been dating for the past two years. Why? I don’t know? He’s decent on the eyes, smart—brains are a plus—desirable body, looks good on paper. I can keep ticking off the checklist. But… if I’m being honest, he’s a mega douche. No wonder my best friend can’t stand him.
If you didn’t already get the memo, I’m a vastly different person in my head than I am in actual life. And you should all say a silent prayer about that fact. It’s true, though. The filter has been on for... well... forever.
My body shakes with each sloppy stroke he thunders into me. I’m not sure how much more jarring I can take.
Okay, so back to fucking Austin. Not fucking Austin. But, technically, I suppose...
“You love it like this, don’t you?” His heavy breaths pant out, heating through the fabric of my top. Yup, kept that on, went straight for the kill.
Would you go down a water slide that wasn’t wet!? You can thank Google for that one. No, you absolutely wouldn’t.
Foreplay is a thing, it’s fairly important. You don’t start an engine in twenty-degree weather and expect that baby to purr.
It’s a travesty, but Austin, the guy who shags me—okay, I’ll stop—definitely doesn’t know how to handle the cat.
I’m not sure which factor is the exact nail in the proverbial coffin, but the second I feel a twitch, another one starts in my eye. Like a time-bomb, waiting to explode.
Is it the revelation that I’m fed up, never revealing the things that I want? The draining task of putting on this perfect show? That my favorite coffee shop is closing? That’s probably the front runner. As he shudders, shakes, and thank God, finishes this irritating—both mentally and physically—wham-bam, something snaps.
I flip over on the bed after the words slingshot from my mouth. He staggers backwards, a confused expression screwing up his face.
Austin’s head jerks to the side. He runs a hand over his buzzed, high and tight blonde hair.
“It fucking sucked,” I reiterate, a solid emphasis on the last word. I scoot to the edge of the bed, grabbing his discarded shirt, doing a quick swipe before hurling it at him. Okay, that’s kinda nasty. Whatever.
“Babe, are you alright?”
“No,” I reply, finding my underwear and jeans, of course, folded neatly on the chair in the white-walled room, pulling them on in a hurry. I am through with being quiet. I’m done being bored. “But I will be.”
“Did I do...?” A slight frown pouts his bottom lip.
It’s like I’m a tiny crack in a windshield. One small ding that’s barely visible, and something happens. Maybe pressure? Complacency? All the above. It’s splintering, crackling, extending to every corner in a rapid rippling effect. Time to shatter this fucking glass!
“You ignore me a lot.” I zip my fly. “You only wanna have sex, which is never good. You don’t listen to a word that comes out of my mouth.” He stands there in a daze. I’m finished with being compliant. I wipe dark strands of hair from my face, continuing, “You sleep around with other women. And I should have told you this a while ago, but I was being... nice.”
“Am I missing something? Are you... are you seriously going to walk out on me? It’s not like I’m cheating. We’re in an open relationship.”
“You know what, Austin? Yup, I am. I’m walking out on you, walking out on this town. I’m tired of biting my tongue, sick of doing the right thing. Consider our relationship closed.” How the hell did I allow this to go on for so long? I release the longest and most relieved breath of my life.
“You fucking bitch.”
I raise my brows, strolling over to the door, quickly searching the room to make sure I leave nothing behind. Wait... I’m a bitch? Okay, in my head, yes. But up till now? Nah... don’t think so.
My hand squeezes tighter around the doorknob as I turn to face him. I feel my nostrils flare. No, I see them. My eyes narrow, teeth mash together. Austin glowers at me... Austin Powers glowers. I gotta stop.
“You won’t find anyone as good as me,” he snarls, the corner of his lips curling into an arrogant smile.
I wasted two years with this fucknut?
“Hm. I’m not so sure.” I laugh to myself, shrugging, knowing exactly who I need to call. The person who always accepts me for who I truly am. The only one I’ve ever revealed my genuine thoughts to. “You set the bar pretty low.”
He stands there scorned, jaw dropped. I just can’t help myself because if I’m gonna let this freak flag fly, I’m not half-masting it.
I stick my head back in the doorway, delivering direct eye contact. “Here’s a tip,” I say. His face turns a deeper shade of red. “If you need to ask a woman if they’ve had an orgasm...” Fists clenched at his sides. “The answer is always no!”
And with that last bit... I’m fucking out!
Deuces Phoenix. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.
I step out from the airport, inhaling a rush of oxygen that finally makes me feel like I’m home. Just kidding, it’s New York City, not quite home, but getting warmer. I’m legit, jam-packed next to people, shoulder to shoulder, sucking in a large quantity of smog and exhaust fumes, giving and receiving dirty looks and a heaping dose of go fuck yourself glares. Ah, there’s that East Coast vibe.
When I made the swift decision to leave, I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I had to get out of there... immediately. I had told my parents that I was accepting their offer because I needed a job. My mother said she had a perfect apartment for me in the city, safe neighborhood, walking distance to the office—a must. She was relieved when I mentioned Austin and I broke it off, stating that on the single occasion she had met him, she never liked that young man. Coulda shared that opinion sooner, Mom. Not as if I would have gotten a backbone.
I need a minute, more like a week, to get my head on straight. Okay, that’s a lie. But, I could use a few days to unwind, to be around someone else who lives a fairly unfiltered life. I packed up my tiny apartment and booked a flight, and here I am.
“Well, look who it is,” a deep voice calls out. I almost do a double-take at his buttoned-up professional attire. I sigh, finding a sense of calm amongst the blaring horns and chatter of the crowded arrivals area, along with that familiar face.
“You know you missed me.” I flash a grin, taking in the widening green eyes at my new me appearance.
That’s right, I figured if I was developing a don’t give a fuck attitude, then I better dress the part. Skin-tight jeans, skimpy tank, leather jacket—thank God it’s a little chilly. September can be unpredictable in these parts.
“You look amazing, Bri.” A huge smile spreads across his face. He stands up straight from the side of some blacked-out SUV.
“I missed you!” I don’t even fight the squeal as Chaz, my ride or die, flings his arms around my back, lifting me, spinning me, hugging me as if we’ve not seen each other in a few years. We haven’t.
“I’m sure you did,” he replies, lowering me to the sidewalk with his typical cocky grin. “This outfit...” He blows out a long breath, running a palm through his hair. “You’re”—he flashes blindingly white teeth—“hot.”
“Gross.” I crinkle my nose. He’s like my brother. I shake my head with a grunt as Chaz lugs my suitcase across the ground, handing them off to his driver. “Fancy,” I remark, as he does a little shoulder lift.
“I’m rich as Jesus now, remember?”
Wasn’t he poor?
“Right, right. Anyway, check you out, Mister Wall Street.”
“The Wolf of Wall Street.”
“More like the Wolf of what the fuck.”
A few breathy laughs escape, and he rolls his eyes before opening the car door, sliding in next to me.
“So, you’re okay? This is kind of unexpected...” Throwing his hands up after buckling, he studies me curiously. A broad, expanding smile twists the corners of my heavily glossed lips.
“I’m great,” I reply. “And I’m ready to live it up.”
He nods. “So, you sowed your wild oats?” A brow arches with an amused stare, smirk on full tilt. The driver weaves through insane amounts of city traffic. I deliver out a single hah, my ponytail whipping behind me as I turn to him. His mischievous grin matches my own.
“I’m just getting started.”
A/N: There’s your intro... Thoughts? Comments? 😈😈😈😈😈 thanks for reading.