Page 36 of Entwined

“Ah. Let me guess, you have a Heathcliff?”

“I do—I did.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

I walk forward then pivot turning around to face him. “But you’ll still be my friend?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Okay. Good night.”

“Do you want me to walk you in?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve survived much worse than an evil roommate.”

He winces. “I’m sure you have. Good night Jessie. You have my cell, use it.”

“I will. Maybe we can grab lunch one day.”

He waits until I swipe my keycard and enter the building before waving as he turns around. I decide to bypass the elevator for the stairs, muttering under my breath as I take them two at a time. The perfect man just appeared right in front of me. And my stupid foolish heart won’t let him in because she let the devil in instead.

My feet slow as I reach my door. I take my key from my pocket turning it in the lock slowly twisting the handle open in case she is asleep.

But she’s not asleep.

Far from it.

The chair creaks from their weight as she rides him; up and down she glides on his hard cock. She cocks her head smirking at me but doesn’t stop. Her naked breasts bounce in the man’s face. His eyes are closed in ecstasy, his hands holding her bony ass down on his cock. He senses something is wrong and opens his eyes.

But instead of feeling ashamed at being caught he jerks up into her harder as she slams down on him.

They are both enjoying this. Getting caught, not caring in the least. But I won’t give them the reaction they are looking for. Instead, I walk inside shutting the door softly behind me. “Get out of my chair.”

“Sorry. We’re in the middle of something here,” she pants.

I walk forward, kicking my foot hard into the chair leg. It snaps and breaks. “Shit!” The man yelps, as they both fall bar-assed to the floor.

“Get out,” I snap.

“But I didn’t come,” she sneers, moving her wild hair from her face. I snap my desk lamp on. Her eyes are glassy, her breath stinks. Empty bottles of cheap wine are on the floor. The nameless man grabs his jeans yanking them on as he tucks his still half-hard dick inside. He leaves without a word, stumbling out into the hall.

“I hate you.” She breathes.

“Why? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You came here. That’s enough. I want to be alone. You don’t know what I’ve been through… what my life’s like. So, don’t stand there judging me.”

I shake my head, grab a disinfectant wipe from my desk and clean my chair with it. “You need help Gretchen. I know you don’t want to hear this and oddly I don’t hate you because shit happened to me too. Bad shit, last year. Things I still can’t talk about to anyone. But I’m choosing not to self-destruct. I’m choosing to not let them win.”

“Why do you Americans think you all Oprah?” She’s pissed, her accent is heavier. I’m tired and don’t want a fight. But more than that—I don’t want to sleep in the same room with her that still smells of sweat, sex and cheap alcohol. I grab a fresh change of clothes, my laptop, and books and stuff them in my trusty backpack.

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