The Other Woman

“I um”
I sweat. My words, my truth are spurting out in a wave of sputtering bullets. “Tre…” I begin again, even more anxiously. “I have… I have gas.” I finally mumble, my lips forming into a small grin.

Tre’s expression transforms from weary and nerve wrenchingly anxious to simply stunned, his cobalt eyes dead panned in solemnity.

“You o.k. there?” I ask with a nervous smile, running a hand through his wind swept hair, trying to decipher what his silence meant. Was it a sign of realization? That he knew I was lying?

“Tre?” I repeat when he makes no response.

The drummer makes no movement, blue eyes still glued and staring into a clear nothing.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he suddenly mumbles, relief now engulfing his body.
“Sorry,” I breathe, brushing my nose over his, “I just wanted to bring a little humor to the situation,” I explain, closing my eyes when his lips brush against my cheeks and neck. This minor assault of his lips on my skin sends pleasantly violent sparks showering through my chilly body.

And when he knows I can’t take his teasing lips any more, he tilts his head in, and those lips, those perfectly plump and curvy lips, connect with my own.

Now in my bedroom, Tre and I lay sprawling about my soft mattress. Our legs are entwined and my head on his clothed chest as his rough fingers thread and thread through my dark hair. A comfortable silence fogs my bedroom, only the light hummings of the cornered television producing any audible sound. We had only just returned from the breezy, night lit beach, both a little tired and a little anxious.

“Tre?” I mumble
“Hmm?”

“You hungry?”
“I guess, you want to go out and get somethin’ to eat?” he asks, his fingers pausing from scurrying through my hair.

“If we can find a place that’s open, at” I pause, removing my head from his chest and leaning over his torso to view the digital clock, “at two in the morning. Or I can make us something,”

“It’s alright baby. There’s gotta be a few 24-hour places open around here. Aren’t Taco Bell and I think…Wendy’s, open?”

“Should be. But I don’t eat either,” I grin.

Damned Dairy Queen to all hell.

He wasn’t worked up before, but now…

Oh My

“Tre,” I mutter miserably, “can we, ugghh,” I groan in annoyance as he continues to nibble on the side of my neck, ice cream long forgotten. We’re both in my car, the backseat to be exact. But we, or at least I, didn’t plan on any sexual happenings inside, simply and strictly to eat our respective sundaes and burgers supplied by Dairy Queen.

He’s somehow already found his way on top of my body, hands exploring over my skin. My hips are wedged between his thighs as his calloused fingers stroke the skin of my belly. His flaming lips bring an awkward mixture of heat and guilt across my touched skin.

Our ice creams are dripping mercilessly on the clear floor mats of my car and on the brown plastic car door. One hand is preoccupied with holding the previously frozen and now melting treat, while my other hand is both pulling Tre in, and simultaneously pushing him off.

Damned whatever was in that food.

“Tre, “ I protest yet again when my previous notions are dismissed, or rather unheard.
“What’s wrong?” he pants, finally leaning off me, some of his chocolate brownie ice cream smeared to his shirt.

“Can we at least head home first. There,” I add, thrusting my car keys into his empty palm, “you can even drive.”

He grins haughtily, “You don’t wanna play in the back seat? Not even in an empty parking lot?”
“No,” I lick my ice cream, extremely slow, just to view his reaction.

He does that sexy macho grin of his, eyebrow quirked in amusement, and I know he’s going to say something completely inappropriate.
“I’m gonna serve you some of my special ice cream tonight,” he whispers into my ear as he heads to the front driver seat. “And you can add whatever toppings you like…” he adds, grabbing at his groin for show.

And all I can do is giggle while finishing up my creamy treat.

My body had been roughly tossed atop my bed, warm sheets swiveling beneath me. The bright bedroom lights are still on and running, Tre ignoring this minor fact as he quickly crawls on top of me, a shiny and enticing gleam in his eyes.

He’s already stripping his heaving chest of the bright red colored shirt he’s wearing, and in the blink of an eye, I vaguely see the material being tossed across the room.

“Lemme get the lights” I breathe, finding any sort of miniscule excuse to flee from his advances. Somehow, he willingly props himself off me, and I can see his fingers already dropping to the buttons of his shorts, ready to toss those off too.

How do I say no?

I cant really convey to this gentleman that I’m not in the mood, that I’m not yet ready for his body to melt inside of mine. Everything that had occurred with Billie Joe was too much and had happened to quickly.

It wasn’t time yet

After flipping off the light switch, and with a dejected hesitance, I crawl back on the bed, not bothering to remove any of my clothing, not wanting Tre to smell any accidental hints of Billie on my neck…breasts…stomach

Before I can even lie flat on the bed, he’s tackling me, repositioning himself on top of me as he previously was.
“So I’m going solo today?” he smirks against my skin as his naked body presses against my clothes. An unexpected giggle leaves my lips at his comment. But before I can tell him, he begins kissing my mouth, tongue delving into mine. His rough fingers are quickly unbuttoning the red buttons on my blouse, as his body heat floats onto me.

“Tre,” I huff when his lips descend to my neck, my blouse already disassembled. Now in my lacey black bra he’s cupping my breasts as his tongue makes circles on my throat, teeth biting into my nervous jugular veins.

Could he smell him?

“Tre…” I try once again, but this time I press my palms to his bare chest, pushing him off me a little.

This gets his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks, his breath still heaving away, centimeters from my mouth.

I sigh, placing a hand to my forehead. “Can we do this some other time? I’m just not in the right mood tonight.” I conclude.
I can just barely make out the expression of his face through the darkness. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and his dark eyes are staring into my own, which causes me to turn my head underneath his gaze.

My left arm is still holding onto his forearm as silence hits the room.
“Umm, sure.” He says causally, almost too casually.

He rolls off of me, and I can hear the material of his boxers slide over his skin once again. After putting his boxers on, he rolls to his side head facing me, which causes me to stop staring at the ceiling and lean into him.

“You had a bad day or something?” he mumbles through the dark.
“Kind of…I don’t know. I just can’t explain it,” I reply in stuttering spurts.

Hedefinitely knows your lying.

Tre sees my frustration and simply runs his finger down my miserable cheek. “Your lying capabilities are poor,” he smirks.

Which is why you don’t know about your best friend fucking me from before we even met? I think not.

“I’m tired,” I whisper, turning to my side so that he’s spooning me. When fully turned, I almost laugh when I can still feel his erection prodding my ass.

“Sorry about that,” I smirk, reaching a hand behind me to lightly pat his crotch.

“I’ll take care of that later,” he mumbles wrapping his arms about my waist as his head drops to the crevice between my neck and shoulder.

I unknowingly pull away from him, shrugging him off my shoulders. There was no way his nose couldn’t detect his best friend. I can feel his body tense up from behind me from my negative actions, and its slowly breaking my heart. He sighs next to my ear, before I feel his grip loosening on my waist, until finally he just completely turns around.

My back facing his back.

And nothing is said for the remainder of the night.

Instead of an alarm, the sun’s rays, or even a fucking rooster; the sound of the shower at just seven in the morning wakes me from my sleep. Giving the bathroom door an odd glare, I turn my drowsy head, only to view an empty mess of crinkled sheets lying beside me on the cold bed.

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I turn my head back, covering my entire head with Tre’s pillow to block out the noise. Which doesn’t help in the least.

Luckily, only a few minutes later the loud pipes are turned off, and Tre, dripping wet in a white fluffy towel exits the bathroom and comes barreling near the bed.

And the arrogant prick is even whistling.
“Some people are still trying to sleep” I grumble with a muffled voice from beneath the pillow.

“What’s that?” he asks, obviously unable to hear my muffled response. I hear his suitcase zipping open.

“Nothing,”

He continues to pesteringly whistle, and to the beat of an atrocious band…Pantera.

When my ears and I both cannot take his sounds; the constant whistling, the unzipping and zipping of zippers, the scratching, the damned yawns, I finally toss the pillow at him, dodging my head up from the bed like a bullet.

“What are you doing?!” I state in a loud whisper.

“What’s wrong with you? I’m packing my things dumbass,” he mutters, before roughly tossing the pillow back at me. With bad aim, the pillow swivels past me and instead knocks over the book that I had standing on my night bedside table.

“Good aim,” I retort, now sitting against the headboard. “And why are you packing?”

“Because I have to go.” He responds dismissively.

My heart breaks once more. He was leaving because of me.

“Why?” I inquire, my voice sounding much softer than before. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug them. I was feeling uncomfortable and overly guilty all of a sudden.

“Claudia’s sick, so she cant really take superb care of Frankito, so I have to go.” He mumbles, grabbing the last item he had left in my room, a pair of navy blue flip flops, which I had took the liberty of writing and coloring on during his past visits. He stuffs them in his duffel bag without a second thought.

Those flip flops, however silly they looked, were important to me, to us. We were simply screwing around, joking and drinking while locked up in a suite while I was in Denver. And after several rounds of truth or dare, he had dared me to write on something of mine with permanent marker. Both being drunken fools, I had grabbed his huge sandals, which were at least three sizes larger than my feet, and scribbled all over the shoe. We were drunk, so we presumed it belonged to me anyway. I had written and drawn silly little romantic things about us. And whenever we saw the flip flops we would laugh.

“Is that actually true? Or are you just pissed at me?”

He sighs in frustration, ignoring my questions until he ties his sneakers. “I’m not mad Serenity. Would you like to call Claudia for a confirmation?”
“So why are you being an ass?” I ask, my voice still gentle, and a little hurt.

Tre snorts as he walks over to my dresser, taming his hair with his entwining fingers.
“How could I not be an ass if my girlfriend doesn’t want to even be near me?”

“Just because I wasn’t in the mood doesn’t mean I do—“

“And I’m not talking about the sex.” He interrupts rather loudly, “I’m talking about when you shrugged me off last night. I’ve been denied sex before, it’s not that big a deal,”

Tears are quickly forming in the corner of my eyes, ready to shed at his next upset outburst.

“I didn’t even shrug you off last night. I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about,” I reply just as loudly as he, ripping the sheet from my body and stomping out of the bedroom with a slam of the door.

I trudge myself into the kitchen, squeezing my eyes shut to try and hold back the tears. Each hand is on either side of the sink, my head sunk forward as a bubbling blend of anger, resentment, guilt, and shame wreck through my shaking body.

When did things become so difficult? When did my ears get so accustomed to our angry voices?

Just months ago we were all smiles and giggles. Only tiny tiffs happening once in a green moon. I was on top of the world, his world, and he on top of mine. Now though, we were in different galaxies…Whatever.

My ears perk at the creaky sound of my door opening. My hands instinctively go to my cheek, wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. I can hear him stumbling into the living room with his two large bags, and I’m wandering what his next move is.

“Serenity?” he says softly, peeking his head through the kitchen walls.
“Yea?”

“Umm,” he says, waltzing through and stopping in front of me. He scratches the back of his head for a second as his mind jumbles up something to say, anything to say.

But I relieve him of hid talking duties and instead move to wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him til’ his bones crack beneath me. He sighs in response, wrapping his strength around my back, squeezing. I nuzzle my nose into his neck, filling my nostrils with his departing scent. He does the same with my wild hair, before dropping a kiss on my forehead.

“I’m sorry about last night, if that’s how I made you feel.” I say after we part.
“Sorry about this morning,” he mumbles, staring into my eyes.
He glides his finger onto my cheek, running the rough tip from cheeks to my nose, until finally tracing over my lips.

“I love you,” I whisper, leaning into his graceful touch.
“Me too,” he smirks, finally leaning his lips into mine for a searing, unforgettable kiss.

“What time is your flight?” I ask
“In an hour,” he frowns

I gather up a small smile before grabbing my car keys from the marbled counter.

“I have not!” I reply loudly, defending myself from his witty blows.
“Yea you have. Every time you cook for me, my ass gets a bulge or too fatter,” Tre laughs, tapping his fingers on the glove compartment in my car.

“Ok, then don’t ask me to cook next time. I can’t believe you,” I cackle, nudging him in the thigh with my free hand as I slow into the correct highway exit.

He yawns, sleep still slithering through his mind and body.
“Have you noticed that we’re arguing more?”

“Yea,” I mumble, not bothering to look over at him.
“Hopefully we’re done for now,”

“I think we are,” I lie, giving him a sweet smile in return. “Just stop letting all that testerone control you,” I smirk as an afterthought.

Grinning, he responds. “You don’t complain about it when we’re going at it. But I’ll do it, ONLY, if you stop letting your period command you.”

A sudden, and life changing thought suddenly popped in my head. All traces of amusement and content have slipped away from my face, and is instead replaced with shock.

When was the last time I had my period?