Page 7 of Stroked
“What do you mean? I live my lifenow. I love my life!” I paced around the kitchen as I told her, and myself, that.
“All I’m saying is maybe it’s time to grow up. We can’t be old maids together forever. I found my person, maybe you need to stop with the meaningless hookups and actually find someone.”
The audacity of this one.
“Wow, so you fall for mister Big Dick Energy and now you have all of life’s answers? Cool. But I don’tneedto do anything.” I went and grabbed my coffee mug before turning back to say, “I have to get showered. You can leave your key on the counter when you’re done.” I saw Jason poke his head out of the room with a confused look on his face as I walked back to my room and slammed the door.
I went to the bathroom, slamming the door again, and turned the shower on. I didn’t need to be anywhere all day, but I wasn’t about to sit there and listen to Miss-Know-It-All give me unsolicited advice. Since the water was running, I decided to hop in the shower anyway and try to relax.
I had just stepped in when I heard my bathroom door open and felt the cool air from my room seep over the shower curtain.
“Hey, what the fuck? I’m in the shower!” I shouted over.
“I don’t fucking care! I amoveryour moping and your attitude. So, be mad. You never have a problem telling me if I’m being an ass, but you can’t take it when I dish it? Bullshit, Amy. Get over yourself. I said what I said. Now, are you gonna suck it up and meet us later at the club or are you gonna keep being a fucking bitch?”
I let the water run over me for a few seconds as I decided whether to keep being a bitch or get over myself.
I pulled the curtain enough that she could see my face. “I’ll suck it up.”
“Good, I’ll see you tonight, then. Jason already took the rest to the car, so we’re headed out for now. Do you still want me to leave the key?”
I still had my face peeking around the curtain. “No.”
Luce came over and kissed my wet cheek. “Love you, bitch. See you tonight.”
“Love you, too, bitch,” I replied as she left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I put my head back into the shower and stood under the water a few minutes before I started washing.
Maybe she was right. But I’d never wanted anything with anyone. Outside of our friendship, of course. But was I jealous? Is that why I was so mad? I thought about it as I showered and I couldn’t tell if I was mad at her, the situation, or that she found someone, and I hadn’t.
We both had been serial daters. Me more than her. She would date guys at least a month or so before she kicked them to the curb. I didn’t “date” so much as have a string of one-night-stands. The apartment was off limits, I never mentioned the club or hooked up with anyone there, and I never gave out my number. But as exhibited last night at The Lounge, I had a reputation, and ladies looking for some fun didn’t seem to have an issue for the most part. I was honest and up front.
But did I subconsciously crave more? None of what Lucy said made sense, except it did.
No.
I would admit I didn’t like change, but I didn’t need a relationship to feel whole. I still had her as my best friend, and I finally had my dream job. And that dream job was demanding and took so much of my time. I was struggling because her relationship happened so fast, they got engaged so fast. And now, she was gone, after eight years of living together. I’d get over it, I just had to stop letting my emotions run my mouth, and my face.
I finished up the shower and slipped into some soft cotton pants and a tee to veg out on the couch until I had to head to the club later.
As I sat on the sofa, I kept looking over at the now barren room, except the furniture. Then it dawned on me. I could use that room for my art.
I had so much shoved into each corner and crevice of my room, and a desk completely cramping my sleep space. I could keep the bed but move it to the opposite wall and put my desk in front of the window, then set up my shelves with my paint, brushes, easels, canvases, and hang my aprons. I jumped up from the sofa and went to the now spare room. I looked around, but now, instead of sadness, a new sense of excitement washed over me. I had an art room.
I walked to the bed and started sliding it to the wall after moving one of the nightstands out of the way. I only had one nightstand in my room, so I decided to move those to my room and take my single one and move it into the new art room. I went back to my bedroom and looked at my desk. It was a heavy-duty wooden desk. I cleared it off and put all my random papers and unorganized supplies on my bed. I turned back and tried to pull it. I dug my feet into the carpet and pulled hard, grunting and panting as I did.
I stood again, briefly, to catch my breath, then dug my feet into the carpet again and pulled from the side. I grunted and panted some more and felt blood rushing to my face. I let go and blew out a huge breath.
I stood with my hands on my hips and stared at the desk. I couldn’t move it.Damnit.
I turned and got aggravated with the art supplies strewn all over my bed. I decided to move the shelves for now and figure out the desk later. I knew whocouldmove it, but I’d have to apologize to him.
Chapter 6
Amy
I had three offers from skeevy boys to help me carry one pizza. I wasn’t even dressed to impress. It was midday and hot as hell, so I wore cotton shorts and a tank that had ‘LGBTQ+ WITH AN EMPHASIS ON THE L’ printed on it. Yet, they still tried. Couldn’t they even read? Morons. Luckily, the walk wasn’t terrible from the pizza place to my destination.
