Coming to Terms ✔️

7: Pond Dives & Wet Dreams

Charlie and I had sex that night. It was okay.

I thought we'd have more of a connection, but he didn't seem to match my energy. It lasted a whole four and a half minutes, I think, and he fell asleep after. Years, I waited, for this trip to pound town and it was incredibly disappointing.

Instead of sleeping beside him, I went and bugged Georgia, who could tell I wasn't pleased with his performance by my attitude. I had to listen to her ugly cackle for five straight minutes, 30 seconds longer than Charlie's dick could stay up. We messed around for a while. She taught me some dance for TikTok and we did it for the camera, which ended in another burst of laughter.

Eventually I called it quits and decided I was tired as a bitch, my ass was sore, and I had leftover spaghetti in the fridge calling my name. Georgia pouted and trapped me in a cuddle session for another thirty minutes before releasing me to go.

When I got home, Xavier was sitting on the porch swing again, feet dangling as he barely moved forward and back. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"It's only nine. John would be mad if you came home this early?" I asked, looking over to the still lit house next door.

He sighed. "Do you wanna' go for a run?"

I grimaced. Like I said, despite the ass pounding only lasting a moment, my rear end was still a little sore and working on his project was the last thing on my to-do list for the night.

His eyes plead a different question though. It was almost like a cry for help, a need for a distraction. I glanced at my front door, then back at Xavier.

"I'll only film a second of it and then we'll leave my camera here and just relax. No strings attached."

I frowned and closed my eyes, forcing myself to bite my tongue back from hissing an unnecessary comment. I couldn't say no when he looked seconds away from imploding. I told him to wait a second while I changed and grabbed some water.

When I came back out, Xavier was kneeled down with his camera to his face, looking at something on the ground. "Look at this tiny snail," he giggled, pulling his phone flashlight out for a better shot.

I leaned against the door, just watching him. He was so unlike the picture I'd painted of him throughout the years. He didn't have red horns or a pointy tail. He was compassionate and had a soft spot for snails.

"Ready?" I asked, pocketing my own cell phone and sticking an ear bud into my ear with some soft music playing.

He nodded, taking the water bottle I was holding out for him. We ran through a cheesy introduction to late night runs, an easy contribution for this day's film slot. I bullshit the whole thing and explained the 'importance of mental health' and how it's important to 'blow off steam when life gets to be too much' or something.

"And what do you listen to to keep your blood pumping during these jogs?"

I pulled my phone out and displayed the screen, where I was proudly listening to In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins. He laughed loudly on the other side of the camera and got a presumably great shot of my ass with a clip of me running off.

He left his camera in my mailbox and we hit the road. I slowed my pace to accommodate him. He was an athlete in high school but I'm sure their conditioning wasn't as hardcore as my daily regime. I went hard on myself because I had no one to compete with but me.

I must have been cringing at the uncomfortable friction this running was causing below the belt, because Xavier nudged my arm. "What's wrong?"

Laughing humorlessly, I waved him off. "Nothing, just a little sore," I said vaguely. He didn't look away from the side of my head, though, and pushed it.