11:45 AM
Over brunch in front of the TV (in bed, nonetheless) they couldn’t look at each other
without laughing or smiling.
They were watching CNN and eating croissants and jam with pomegranate juice.
He glanced over at her and laughed, “I think we’re going to be doing this whole
laughing and smiling when looking at each other thing for like, another century or so.”
She giggled, taking a bite of her raspberry jam smothered croissant half, “I know. But
I wont care if we don't stop.”
He chuckled and nodded in agreement, “These croissants are really good.”
She nodded in agreement.
“But not as good as last night.”
She laughed loudly, “I’ll strongly agree with you on that.”
“You have some jam…” he said, leaning in to lick it off for her, “All
better.”
She giggled, “What a gentleman.”
“I don't think we have any intention of leaving the house today.”
“Oh, we don’t.” She confirmed with a laugh, “There isn't anything
better out there than what’s in here.”
He laughed, “Well said, beautiful.”
She giggled and smeared butter on her croissant, “Didn’t you have to work or something
today?”
“After last night I don't want to ever work on anything every again,” he said,
“well, hah, except you.”
She continued to laugh as she ate her third croissant. She may have been socially bred to
be classy, but she wouldn’t deny that she loved to eat. Her body didn’t show it at all, though. She looked like
a girl on a strict diet of lettuce and carrots, when she inhaled things like croissants and doughnuts multiple times a week.
If only others could be so lucky to have her physique. “That was brilliant.”
He laughed, nodding to himself, “This bed is ridiculously comfortable. I think I like
it more than my own.”
“Well you wont hear a single complaint from me if you stay,” she smiled with hopeful
eyes.
“Oh, I’m not leaving,” he assured simply, “Trust me…the only
way we’re probably going to leave is if there’s a really serious fire in the building and we’re forced to
evacuate.”
She laughed, “It only has to be a serious fire? Not just any small fire?”
“No – serious.” He said, “Big fire…only if we have to evacuate
though.”
“Okay,” she agreed, “I can live with that.”
“Yeah, I mean, I love these croissants,” he said, “but honestly…not
as much as I loved last night.”
She laughed, setting her white plate on the side table and leaned back on her pillow, “Oh,
I know.”
He chuckled, “I just love CNN.”
“But not as much as you loved last night?”
He laughed, “Not even a tenth as much. Greta van Sustren just doesn’t do it for
me.”
She giggled, clasping her hands on her flat stomach, “Yeah, Larry King doesn’t
really do it for me either.”
He smiled as he finished the last of his juice, “Last night, I’m not kidding,
was the best ever.”
“Likewise.” She said, pressing her feet to his back.
“So okay,” he said, “now you officially take up spots one through ten on
the best kiss list, and now…well, now you take up spots one through infinity on the best sex list. Congrats, baby. I
need to get you, like…a big trophy or something shiny.”
She giggled, “Diamonds will do.”
He smiled, “That feels good.”
“People are going to think we dropped off the face of the universe,” she said,
continuing to massage his back with her feet.
“Cool,” he smiled, looking at her over his shoulder.
“Why are you still eating? Come and lay with me.”
He chuckled, ate his last bite, chewed and swallowed then placed his plate on the side table
nearest him then leaned back on his pillow, slumped against the headboard. “I’m here.”
She giggled, “Yes.”
He laughed and kissed her head, “I think we even lack the motivation to take a shower.”
“I think you're right.”
He sighed and pulled her close to him, “Do you know what?”
“What?” She said, completely relaxed in his embrace. She curled her legs up to
her chest, one arm swung around his chest.
“I think we’re so amazing together.”
“We are,” she confirmed, “We honestly are.”
“I feel high.”
She giggled, “Me too.”
“I think it has something to do with either the Pom….or…like, the lack of
actual function in my brain right now because all I can think of is how amazing it is to make love to you.”
She laughed, “Flattered.”
“You should be,” he said, “because…oh my God….random people
just don't have this kind of attraction. And what’s more is that not only do we have the attraction chemistry part down,
but…we have all the other stuff to. Like…we have conversations. We talk to each other. We communicate.”
She giggled and rested her head on his chest, “Well said. I couldn’t have said
that better myself.”
“I kinda would like a shower,” he thought aloud, “but I think that would
accomplish zero, cleanliness-wise.”
She nodded against his chest, “You're absolutely right.”
He kissed the top of her head and held her. They stayed silent for a few minutes, completely
content with the TV on as they laid in each other arms.
“My parents want to meet you.”
He had been wondering when that was going to happen. He knew he was bound to meet them some
time, he just didn’t know when. “Okay. Sure.”
Aubrey smiled pleasantly, “I think my father already likes you – I told him you
sail, so…”
He laughed, “Nice, nice…thanks for that. What about your mother?”
“Don't worry about her…she’s…” she paused, “she is difficult,
because the only guy she’s ever liked was and always will be Chad. She can't get over it. I think you can win her over,
though.”
“Of course I can,” he said, “parents love me.”
She giggled and slid her legs under the mound of down and Egyptian cotton. “It’s
easy to see why.”
“Are you cold.”
She nodded, “Kind of, but I’m warm now.”
He kissed her on the lips, but before he could lay one hand on her, his cell phone rang. She
pulled back and rolled over to her pillow.
“Should I answer it?” He asked, eyeing the Motorola Razor on the side table. The
external caller ID was lit blue with Josh Cell.
“It could be important, but…” she said, “my answer would be no.”
He chuckled and went back to kissing her. The ringing stopped a moment later as their clothes,
or lack thereof, found their ways to the floor once again.
The phone rang again. He had zero tolerance for ringing phones, especially his, and especially
when he was in the middle of something importantly good.
“I’m sorry,” he told her sincerely, rolling over to grab the phone. “What?”
“Sorry, man. Relax,” JC said cooly, “I guess you kinda forgot about today?”
“What?” He asked, sitting up.
“We were supposed to record like three hours ago.”
“Damn,” he cursed sharply, “Oh…I’m sorry, man. It completely
slipped my mind.”
“Come back to bed,” Aubrey called.
JC must have caught wind of Aubrey because JC let out a laugh, “You motherfucker. Did
you do what I think you did?”
“I have to go.”
“You're whipped like cream, asshole.” JC said, “Creamed like corn!”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Whatever.”
He pressed ‘end’ then held it down to turn the phone off. “It’s off.
No more distractions.”
She smiled as he crawled back to her, “Good.”
The next day, Wednesday July 31st
The only reason he’d gone home in the first place was to charge his stupid cell phone
and feed his dog; Aubrey’s Motorola charger was different than his, and his happened to be at home, so he didn’t
have a choice. No cell equaled no life.
He was tired, anyway, but not exhausted or lethargic. Tired, like energized. He unlocked the
door to his apartment and walked in, throwing his bag on the couch.
“Hi there,” he said, crouching down next to his dog to pet him, “I’m
sorry I didn’t come home to feed you, man.”
He actually did mean that; he loved his dog very much, but he absolutely loved making love
to Aubrey ten million and one times more.
He rubbed the dog’s belly then got up and went into his bedroom to put his phone on
the charger. He picked up the cordless and dialed JC.
“Hello?”
He hadn't expected Emma to pick up, yet, he kind of had. “Oh, hi.”
“Oh, hey loser.” Emma said, “Are you the reason why Miss Aubrey’s
ringer is turned off?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, “put your boyfriend on the phone.”
“Uh, not until I get some details.” Emma protested, “And I mean details.”
“You're not getting anything from me,” he said, “Let me talk to JC; this
is a man’s matter.”
Emma laughed, “Is that so?”
“Yeah, put JC on, god damnit.”
“You sound like you've been snorting crack for the past seventy two hours.”
“I wouldn’t say snorting crack, but…” he joked, “Just put JC
on!”
“Okay, jeez,” Emma said. “JC, the tool is on the phone.”
“Talk to me,” JC demanded.
“I can't even find the fucking words.” he said, “And I’m cursing because
I’m happy; I think all of this may have ended my writing funk.”
JC laughed, “Well, damn, if that’s what it took…Emma should have put you
two together like ten years ago. So what brought you home?”
“Phone died,” he grumbled, “I’m pissed.”
“She didn’t have a phone charger?”
“She did, but we have different phones so hers didn’t fit with mine,” he
said, “And I had to feed my dog, anyway.”
“Oh.”
“Plus I’m kind of burnt out but not really.”
“Well I guess that happens when you have non stop sex for, like, two days straight.”
He rolled his eyes when he heard Emma cracking up in the background, “Don’t tell
her what happened.”
“She already knows, man. It’s so obvious…she tried to call Aubrey like ninety
time but it just kept ringing.”
“We turned off the ringer,” he said.
“Did you even leave the house?”
“Yeah…I mean, well…I got up to answer the door. We ordered Chinese last
night.”
“I see.” JC said, “When are you going to Maine?”
“Tomorrow morning.” He said, scrolling through his photo album on his phone. He
grinned.
“What are you laughing about.”
“Nothing.” He said, “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“If you want – me and Emma are going out.”
“Gee, really.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” He hung up the phone and then dialed again.
“Hello?”
“Hey Beef,” Justin said cooly.
“Hey bitch,” Trace said happily, “You’ve been out of reach for like
two days.”
“I know. Long story. You gonna take care of my dog for me while I'm gone?”
“Yeah. Bring the pooch by my place, he can stay with me.”
“Alright,” he said, “Hey, you wanna meet me for a coffee right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, like in two minutes. The Starbucks two blocks from me.”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you,” Trace said, “What’s the deal?”
“No deal. Just wanna talk,” he said, “Haven't fuckin talk to ya all week,
Beef.”
Trace chuckled, “Yeah, no thanks to your damn high society girlfriend.”
“She tries,” he said, “I’ll see you in life five minutes.”
“Alright. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up the phone, placing it back on the cradle. He changed his clothes to baggy khaki
cargo shorts and a blue Abercrombie tee with ratty brown Reef flip flops that had a bottle opener on the bottom soles.
He grabbed five bucks out of his nightstand drawer and locked his front door before stepping
inside the elevator and walking out of his doorman-les building.
Trace was sitting on a brown leather couch all by himself when he walked in. They hugged and
got in line to order coffee.
“So.” Trace said, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for his venti
two pump vanilla skim, three raw sugar, two shot extra hot latte. “What’s going on.”
Justin sighed. “Something not good. Something good, but not good.”
“Ooh. Complicated?”
“Very.” He grabbed his passion iced tea lemonade and sipped it. “This entire
thing, it’s a good thing, you know.”
“Uh huh.”
“But it isn't a good thing.” He said, “because as much as I want to believe
that…this could be a good and healthy relationship, and it kind of already is…I can’t believe it. I can't
convince myself that it is.”
Trace slipped a sleeve on his coffee and they went to a table in the back of the Starbucks.
“Alright, wait, wait. Start from the beginning.”
He didn’t usually dish gory details to any one but Trace – he was his Beef –
BFFE, Best Friend For Eternity. He probably had dished more details about the past two days than Aubrey would have cared,
but he was so stoked about the relationship that he didn’t care.
“Okay, so…” Trace said, taking it all in, “Wait, you had crazy amazing
sex with this girl, right?”
“Yeah. Like, the best ever.”
“Okay. So what the fuck is the problem?”
He sighed, “When we were doing it, the only thing I could think about was how much I’m
not infatuated with her anymore. It’s so past infatuation, now. Like…oh my God, I can't get my head straight on
in the morning if I don't think about her or at least talk to her.”
“Okay, so you love her. What’s the big deal about that?”
“The big deal about that is that…” he paused, “I can’t, cause
I know she’ll hurt me and use it against me later.”
“That’s pretty low for you to say on her part, isn't it?”
He sighed, “Not really, considering.”
“No, but…” Trace paused, thinking about it, “If you can't handle being
in love with this girl, get out, man. Don't hang her by a string. That isn't right.”
He paused, “It isn't, you're right. But I love her.”
“Okay, so?”
“Okay, so…” he paused, “You don't get it. I can't love her. I can't
be in love one more time. I mean, I could, physically…and I am, but mentally…I mean, if I get fucked over one
more time I’m going to scream and check myself into some mental institution.”
“You know what I think your problem is?”
“What?”
Trace sighed, shaking his head slowly.
“What? What is my problem? For the first time in my entire fucking life I have no answer
for anything. I ask questions to myself that I can't answer. And I hate that. Hate it. I’m driving myself up walls,
man. What, then? What is my problem? Don't get all quiet on me now. I’m looking for counseling, man. You need to give
it to me.”
Trace kept shaking his head. “Calm down, bitch. Calm down. Deep breath.”
He took a deep breath and a long sip of his iced tea.
“Man, Anna really fucked you for life, didn’t she?”
“That’s completely irrelevant right now.” He said sternly.
“Okay, okay,” he said simply, “Listen to me.”
He waited with anticipating eyes.
“Your problem,” he said, “is that you’re way too fuckin insecure.
Not every woman on the face of the earth is conspiring against you, you know.”
“Well, that’s good and fine and all.” He said, “Except that all the
women of the earth are conspiring against me. They're out to break every heart I have.”
“Yeah, but you can't go around with some kinda relationship phobia, man.” Trace
advised, “You can't meet a girl, and it sounds to me like you really do love this one, you can't go and meet a girl
and automatically know she’s going to break your heart. Love doesn’t work like that, asshole. You gotta be a little
bit more forgiving and have a little bit more faith in people, J.”
He blinked as he sipped his iced tea, then began nodding his head, “Yeah, sure.”
Frustration+Insecurity=Confession
