The Good Ones Go

Past nine the very next day Chelsea opens her eyes to find her head buried in Travis' lap. The keys jingling at the door wake her, and she sits up to rub her tired eyes while watching Colson stumble in hungover.

"Hey, Cole," she croaks in her hoarse morning voice as she watches him take his shoes off and wander over to her. He is barely keeping his balance so she stands to meet him and notices his eyes flutter over to the man on the couch.

"Hey, baby," he moans out snuggling into her neck. He is a little jealous that Travis has spent the night, but he's too fucked up to show it.

"Come on, go lay down for a bit. I'll bring you some aspirin," she tells him as she walks him to her room. He strips down to his underwear while he waits for the medicine. His head is throbbing from the pain so he quickly reaches for the pills when she brings them and chugs the glass of water before crashing down on the bed. Chelsea pulls the sheets up over him and kisses him softly on the lips trying to keep a straight face when the smell of alcohol hits her nose.

"Thanks, Chels. I love you," he tells her. He is already dozing off.

"I love you, too," she replies with a small smile and walks out to check on Travis.

"Millie," she leans over to whisper in his ear. When he doesn’t budge she repeats herself rubbing his arm gently.

Travis responds to the caress immediately; his eyes flutter open as he moans, "Damn, girl, you just gave me a boner."

She chuckles at his silliness and walks over to pulls out the couch. Pointing to it she says, "Come lay down."

Travis stands lazily and takes only the necessary steps to allow him to tumble over on the pull out. Chelsea places a throw pillow under his head and a quilt over him.

"Stay with me, babe," he tuggs on her arm before she gets away - he really doesn't want to sleep alone.

"I can't, Millie, I have work," she tells him dreading the start of her next rotation, "you sleep though, and if you leave before I get here, lock yourself out." He closes his eyes in disappointment, and she goes into her bedroom quietly to grab her clothes for work. She turnes to glance lovingly at her sleeping boyfriend one last time before closing the door after herself; she silently hopes that yesterday wouldn’t repeat itself.



It's been almost a month since the last time Chelsea caught Colson cheating on her. She was thankful for that, but her anxieties haven't disappeared. Since then he had taken a surprising turn for the better and, to her surprise, devoted most of his time to their relationship and his work. He still had his benders, sure, but they were less impulsive - more controlled. She knew she was still making excuses for him, but it seemed like he was trying. It had seemed to her like their life was finally going somewhere, and she liked it. She was willing to be patient.

"Would you stop texting lover boy and pay attention? Our exam is tomorrow!" Jessica teases in the school library. She's been acting strange recently, and though Chelsea spends time wondering what's going on with her she doesn't pry. It's around lunchtime on a Wednesday, and the group of friends have a two-hour break until their next class, which they're taking advantage off to get some work done.

"Jess, quit being so jealous," Adam teases her. His words are innocent as they leave his lips jokingly.

"I am not," Jessica shrieks loudly: the way she always does when she's getting defensive.

Adam raises his eyebrows her way realizing his comment hit home, and she sighs when she sees the look he's giving her.

"Okay, come on, who doesn't want to fuck the guy?" she gives in. Rotations have been stressful on her lately, and the stress has brought out a reckless side of her.

"I didn't know you felt that way," Chelsea replies seriously; she couldn't joke about stuff like this, especially considering how hard it is for Colson to be faithful. Jessica is her best friend, but she was always also a tremendous flirt. She used to have boundaries before, but it seems like they're thinning.

"A girl can dream," she defends herself. Suddenly she feels awkward with all eyes on her, but the words have already left her mouth, and it's too late to go back.

"Not about her best friend's boyfriend of 8 years!" Toby claims; he's just as surprised as Chelsea that his cousin is being so nonchalant about the situation.

"I don’t know what you girls see in him - that guy's an asshole," Adam tells them rolling his eyes. A rapper that drinks and parties and cheats, how overrated.

"I didn't say he was a good boyfriend," the blonde is back on the defensive, "not that he has to be to dick me down," Jessica adds squirming in her seat. She realizes that the words that have left her mouth are incredibly inappropriate, but she can't seem to help herself.

"Okay," Chelsea clears her throat, "I'm officially uncomfortable and ready to move on to talking about these ethical principles, guys." She's over this conversation, over Jessica's behavior. Her friend has been distant recently, and this conversation has driven a bigger wedge between them than either of them realize. Toby eagerly agrees with Chelsea's words - he is just as disturbed by Jessica's behavior as she is. The rest of the hour they have left is spent discussing physician assisted suicide until Chelsea's phone vibrates indicating ten minutes until they were due to be in class.

That was the last time Chelsea studied with Jess. She doesn't care how obvious it is that she was avoiding her: she had good reason to. She began to distance herself from Jessica and lean more on Adam who had become her emotional and moral support through rough times. Though he's a flirt, much like every man she has encountered, he was respectful, and no one gave better advice than he did.

It was a chilly Friday afternoon in November when Travis had picked her up after class to do their weekly grocery shopping together. Conveniently they run into Jessica who just had to stop to flirt with Travis. Besides saying hi, Chelsea paid no attention to them and instead focused on finding the mixed berry jam that Cole had put on the list for her.

"You know that girl? She's your fucking polar opposite!" Travis exclaims shoving a piece of paper in the pocket of his tight jeans. Chelsea rolls her eyes and says, "yea. She's been my friend since college until she made it clear a few weeks ago that she'd like my boyfriend to give her the dick." Chelsea keeps her eyes averted from his as she speaks, reaching down to put the jar in her own cart.

Travis laughs and throws his arm around Chelsea's shoulder. "She's just gettin' hers," he adds but knows how appropriate Chelsea's jealousy is.

Chelsea pushes her the cart toward the register as she says, "she can get her's, just not mine."

"Don’t worry, babe, you'll always have me," he teases her carrying his basket with him and following her to the line.

Chelsea snorts loudly in response, "yea right, you're even worse than Colson."

"I donno," Travis says as he places his items on the conveyer belt behind hers, "he's clearly got more game than me."

"Why do you say that?" Chelsea furrows her brows as she's never heard her friend second guess himself.

"Because he cracked you," Travis teases.

Chelsea rolls her eyes without a word at her friend as she hands the cashier the money. Travis had only gotten a couple things so she doesn't mind paying for them despite his protests.

As they pack the bags into the trunk of his Escalde she tells him, "you're getting close." She's biting her lip as she lets the joking words settle on his ears, but the smirk he gives her makes them seem more real.

When she gets back home she's surprised to find her boyfriend sitting on the loveseat waiting for her.

"Hey, babe," he stands up to greet her while grabbing the bags out of her hands. She leans into to kiss him thankfully before pulling her coat off and watching him walk to the kitchen.

"So, I was thinking," he starts, and she raises her eyebrow in anticipation, "do you wanna go out with me tonight?"

She sighs, "I just started my acute care rotation, Colson, I can't be late in the morning." She tries to hide her disappointment at his ignorance of her academic life. He has made her late so many times the past month, and she promised herself that she wouldn't let it happen again.

"No, I mean on a date," he clarifies as he puts away the groceries.

"Really?" she asks him. Her eyes light up in an instant, and she's upset that she had jumped to conclusions. It's been so long since they'd been out together - the two of them - that she didn't want to say no.

"I sorta made us a reservation at that Italian place you love so much," he tells her as he turns around and leans up against the counter fidgeting with his fingers nervously.

A smile builds on her face. "Give me an half an hour," she tells him as she rushes to her bedroom to get ready.

Colson's face breaks out into a grin. He watches her scurry to the room, and he can't help but to feel good about himself. He finally feels like he's making the right moves in their relationship, and he makes himself promise that he won't fuck it up.

When they get to the restaurant Cole acts like a total gentlemen: opening doors, pulling out chairs, and complementing her appearance. Chelsea revels in the feeling she gets as they talk, but mid-meal she begins to see the real Colson itching to get out.

"Is it kind of hot in here or what?" he begins to undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt, sleeves already rolled up.

"It's alright, maybe tone down the liquor," she suggests. She's a little upset that he's ruining this, but she holds her tongue.

"Babe," he says, and she knows he's annoyed by her comment. She can't help it though, between the two of them she had a glass of wine, and he had the rest of the bottle then ordered a second. This date is going no where quickly, and she just wanted to go home.

"I'm sorry, Cole, but do you have to get hammered when you're out on a date with me?" she asks sadly. She's not sure what she's saying: she knows Colson, and this is Colson. Still, she's disappointed.

"How's your chicken?" he diverts the conversation. He doesn't want to argue with her. In the back of his mind he knows that she's right, but something inside him wants to ignore her.

"Good, thanks," she tells him. Actually it was a little dry, but she's afraid he would cause a scene if she mentions anything.

Before he could make another comment his iPhone goes off - his own song his ringtone. Without a word to her he answers it and strikes up a conversation.

Chelsea waits patiently for ten minutes for him to hang up. By then, she's finished with her plate and is pouring herself another glass of wine to make it through the night. She wants to ask him to leave but realizes he has the same idea.

She watches as he scrambles to finish his food so he can go have fun with his boys. As he's eating, Chelsea's phone vibrates in her pocket. She reaches for it and sees 'MILLS' flashing on the screen. She politely apologizes to Colson and takes the call.

"Hello?" she asks concerned. She listens to the blaring music in the background for a moment before she finally hears his voice.

"Hey!" he yells. He can barely hear her, but then again he can barely hear himself.

"What's going on?" she asks. He's usually not the one that calls, she is, and it worries her a little.

"Can I spend the night? These fuckers are partying here 'til who knows when, and I gotta be up early tomorrow," he yells into the speaker hoping the words reach her.

She's able to make out most of his sentence and says, "sure, but I'm not home right now; I should be there in about 30."

"Alright, I'll be there in 30 too then, thanks," he tells her hanging up.

She apologizes to Colson once again for taking the call, but he's too busy texting his friends with one hand and shoving the last bit of food down his throat with the other. In a few minutes he's done and asking for the bill. Chelsea's stomach churns a little at his behavior, and she finds herself regretting agreeing to this in the first place. It was a waste of a night she could have spent studying.

Cole drops her off on the corner without getting out of the car. All he gives her is a sloppy kiss and a 'good night.' Chelsea's disappointed, and she doesn't try to hide it anymore, but he doesn't even bother to notice. She had expected a nice night out, and though it started that way Colson just couldn’t contain MGK for a couple of hours.

As her red stilettos clack across the street toward her complex she sees Travis' car pull up, and she decides to wait for him as he parks his Cadillac in a cozy spot.

He whistles as he gets out of the care and walks her way, "sexy mama! Why so dressed up?"

She looks down at herself suddenly feeling ugly because of the the way Cole had treated her. "I had a pretend date with Colson tonight," she tells him as her keys jingle in her hand while she's unlocking her door.

"Pretend?" Travis asks curiously walking in and taking his shoes off. He's doing his best to keep his eyes off her, but it's not easy.

She sighs, "I don't know. It was supposed to be a nice date; he took me to my favorite place, and then 15 minutes in he started acting like Kells." She walks into her room and begins to change into her pajamas. She is eager to get out of this dress, but she leaves her door open and listens for a response from the living room.

"I don't know what to tell you, Chels. You know who he is. I mean, you've been with him forever; if you guys can't work your shit out, then maybe you shouldn't be together," Travis' words are brutal but honest. He doesn't want her to leave him, but if he can't make her happy then what's the point?

Chelsea sighs and slides on her slippers. She knows that Travis is right, but she doesn't want to think about it right now - she just wants to forget about MGK for the night. She walks out in her shorts and bandeau and flops down on the loveseat.

"Damn, guess you were right about them pants comin' off," Travis teases as his eyes traverse her body despite himself. His words are intended to lighten the mood, but she doesn't respond.

Travis subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her pull her hair from the up-do, letting it cascade down her shoulders. She ignores his passes and grabs the remote to turn on the TV. Soft porn flashes across the screen, and she groans irritated that this is what Colson was watching while he was waiting for her: no wonder he was in such a good mood.

"That really isn't helping right now," Travis laughs. The tent in his pants is pitched high, and he tries to readjust it discreetly it, but she already knows.

Chelsea laughs at him before changing the channel to the news, the least erotic thing possible. "You should go to sleep," she starts, "the bed is turned down for you."

"Nah, I got the couch, babe," he tells her. He doesn't want to impose, and he wouldn't be much of a gentleman if he took her own bed away from her.

"You sure?" she asks him. She wants to be a good hostess because he never asks for favors.

Travis simply nods in response, and she gets up to get the pull out ready for him. He watches her as she moves, but knows he's got boundaries to respect: he isn't T. Mills with Chelsea.

"Have a good night, Millie," she tells him as she throws the remote his way and heads into her room. She leaves the bedroom door open, and waves to him from her bed. "Please don't touch yourself - that's not why I'm leaving the door open," she jokes.

He lets out a few teasing sexual grunts before laughing and telling her to have sweet dreams.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.