Oblivious

4. not the way things should happen

Entering Jessica's apartment with its velvet curtains and the sweet scent of her perfume, I wondered if I had made the right decision. The atmosphere felt unfamiliar even if I frequented the place several nights a week.

She sat on the sofa, her knees drawn up toward her chest and her arms hugging them loosely. "So you decided to come by?"

I shrugged and got out of my jacket, hoping she wouldn't stay mad at me. It was the last thing I needed.

"You know, I'm not some booty call. I'm your girlfriend." She shook her head and tousled her long brown hair into a messy bun.

Sighing, I sat down next to her on the second hand sofa, allowing myself to be distracted by the stupid commercials running between shows.

"Aren't you gonna say something?" The pitch in her voice told me that I was failing as a boyfriend, which came as no surprise. A few days ago, I would have called everything off for both our sake's, but after the confusion with Ayden, I had something to prove to myself. I was meant to be in love with this beautiful girl, and it shouldn't be a chore to keep her happy.

I took her smaller hand in mine. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm just having a rough time. Shouldn't take it out on you." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely true either.

"Is it Ayden?" She knew we had some issues, but I had no intention of feeding her with the drama she craved. She wanted me to dislike Ayden as much as she did, but that would never happen.

"No, Ayden's fine."

"Well, what is it then?"

Leaning over, I gave her a quick kiss. "I'm just tense."

She rolled her eyes. Clearly, I wasn't forgiven. "Told you, I'm not a booty call."

I was pretty sure sex had been at the forefront of her mind when she sent me those texts, but it came as no shock that her mood had died down when I behaved like an ass. Couldn't blame her for my failure.

Stroking her skin, I tried to act the way I should. "Of course not. Let's just watch a movie."

The tension between us settled after watching scenes roll by for about an hour. Jessica was leaning into my side and gently brushing her hands further up my leg. She was good at seduction, despite being such a deceivingly sweet creature. Kissing her was familiar and comfortably safe. What we lacked in passion, we made up for in other ways.

In the end, I got my wish. Re-wiring. It worked, but I was oddly tense even after our session. Something was wrong, but I was too afraid to ask myself what it was—afraid of finding the wrong answer.

She wanted me to stay, pleading with her soft brown eyes, but I was too restless to share her bed. I knew I wouldn't get any sleep and decided to head home instead, leaving her annoyed again.

* * * *

It was past midnight when I finally arrived back at the apartment. It wasn't a long walk, but I had managed to chain smoke through half a packet of cigarettes in an attempt to escape my fucked up thoughts. I was covered in a cloud of volatile relief when I walked inside, but the thick mist wasn't enough to drown the stench of alcohol that greeted me with glee.

"Why'r you here?" Ayden mumbled from the sofa. He was lying down, his chest bare and one hand clasped around an empty vodka bottle, clearly drunk.

"Jessica threw me out. She's got an early class tomorrow," I lied.

"You'r not suppos'to be'ere," he slurred. He tried to sit up but wobbled and fell to the side, crashing his head into the table.

"Fuck, Ay, how much did you drink?" I ran forward, helping him back onto the sofa. A steady trickle of blood spilled out from a small gash along his eyebrow. Perfect, I thought, examining the wound. "I'll get the First Aid kit. Can you hold this steady?" I pressed down his discarded t-shirt on the wound and urged his hand to hold it against the bleeding cut.

"Why, Cal? You weren't suppos'to see..." He sounded pitiful, but I knew he didn't want my pity, not for real, and definitely not tomorrow when he came around. No, what he wanted was for me to forget this ever happened; he wanted me gone, but he definitely needed something to seal that gash.

I ran into the bathroom, found our poor version of a First Aid kit, and hurried back. Ayden had already dropped the t-shirt, allowing blood to drip down on the carpet. He was swiping it away with his hand, smearing the dark red blood across his face.

"Will this day never end?" I growled in frustration as I sat down next to him, swatting his hand away to access the wound. He winced when I touched it, but his struggles ceased.

"I'm sorry, Cal..."

"For what?"

"This one didn't look like you..." he said, making no sense whatsoever.

"What are you talking about?"

He didn't answer; instead, he stared into space looking lost in thought. I finished cleaning up the wound, pushed it together with tape and dried off his face. In the end, I moved the fluffy towel over his skin almost tenderly, caressing instead of merely wiping. His gaze shot back to meet mine and his lips parted. I instantly stopped my hand. It almost seemed as if he wanted to say something, he even inhaled a breath, but words never came. Our eye-contact broke but the tension between us refused to settle, or perhaps it was only I who felt it.

"Let's get you to bed," I suggested, helping him up. He didn't get far before he stumbled into my side. I carefully wound my arm around his waist to keep him steady. His head lolled to the side, landing on my shoulder. Where our bodies touched, my skin warmed. I wanted to push him away, but I also wanted to cling to him like a man drowning.

I managed to drag him into his room, easing him down on the bed. He collapsed in the mess of rumpled sheets, and I was sure he would be out in a minute. The faint light offered glimpses of his skin, enough to force me to remember every single detail of what had happened. Shame was not the right word to describe what I felt, but I wasn't sure what other word to use. Far too many alternatives were out of the question.

I turned to leave, but before I could close the door behind me, he stopped me, "Can you stay?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ay."

"I don't wanna be alone..."

I had never heard him say anything like that, and it got me worried. Once again, I was sure that something wasn't right. He wasn't fine, and this time I forced myself to be the friend that wouldn't walk away just because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

I sat down beside him, letting him curl around me. "What's up, Ayden?" I asked, hoping that he would answer me this time.

"Nothin'."

"Nothing, but you don't want to be alone? You know I'm not an idiot, Ay."

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not."

"Jus' keep me company, an' I won' call you an idiot."

I knew it was the worst idea ever but also far too tempting. He gave me a chance to sleep in his bed like we used to do when we were kids. I knew we would end up snuggled tight in each other's embrace, looking for the comfort I never received from anyone else while growing up.

Giving in to the strange longing, I climbed over him and placed myself behind his back. I thought he would remain like that, spooned in front of me, but he turned around and hugged me close. I could feel his moist lips against my neck, making me tense in his arms. He was drunk, barely conscious, and looking for comfort. I was sure that it didn't mean anything to him, but for some reason, it wreaked havoc inside of me. I was losing it. I was losing the precious little control I had.

My skin burned where his lips touched me, again and again. It was torture—sweet, unbearable torture.