The Love I Need

Chapter 7

--BEFORE--

My phone lights up and buzzes, indicating that I have a text message. I glance in its direction, but then bring my eyes back to my laptop and continue scrolling.

My phone buzzes again. I sigh, then move my hand away from the touchpad to pick up my cellphone from the mattress.

Justin: found a new fave, think youll like it. I know I did
Justin: sent it to your email

It's as if he knew I was trying to find something to watch.

I smirk and toss my phone down on the mattress again to open my email on my laptop. Sure enough, the top email is from Justin, a connoisseur of all things porn.

It doesn't even embarrass me that he knows what I watch when I touch myself. Not anymore.

At first, it had been mortifying.

After Vee and Oliver went back to Florida, I had told Justin about the phone call I received on the rooftop. He helped me locate every "Al's Place" within a couple of hours from our place. He came with me to each one, to ask around and to show Cal's picture, while I tried to find the last place Cal had attempted to contact me from.

Eventually, we located the right one. After talking to the owner, I was sure of it. But it didn't bring us any closer to finding Cal. All it did was bring the two of us closer together; the two pathetic friends who had been left behind.

Justin's friendship had gotten me through a lot in the months that followed, but I never imagined it would bring me here.

It was about six months after Cal left, that I dropped an egg on the floor one morning. And I completely lost my shit.

Justin watched, as I stomped around the kitchen to clean it up, and then picked up a banana to eat instead.

"Fuck Lia, you're looking at that banana like you want to deep throat it," he laughed, "I always get a little cranky when I need to get off too... I think. Fuck, I can't really remember the last time I went without."

I glared at him, then said, "You haven't hooked up with anyone in weeks. At least, not that I know of. I haven't seen any fake tits around here lately."

"Plenty of fake tits on the internet, Lia, and I've got a pretty good imagination, and a right hand that knows juuust how I like it." He placed his hand over his crotch and winked at me, then laughed again when he noticed my uncomfortable expression.

"Aww, c'mon, Lia. We're adults. We don't have to pretend that watching porn isn't just a hell of a lot easier and even more satisfying at times. No small talk and playing nice. No having to deal with..." he drifted off while watching my face. "Fuck. You don't watch porn?"

I shook my head, then dropped my eyes to the table. How the hell had I ended up in this conversation?

"You just get the job done without it?" he asked, but my lack of reply must have given him an answer, because then he said, "Holy shit. You don't masturbate?! No wonder you've been such a bitch. Damn, Lia, you need a fucking orgasm!"

I couldn't even argue with him.

That night, he showed up to my room with a laptop. He opened the web browser, clicked a few buttons, and said, "Here's some of my favourites. Don't worry, I removed anything that was too intense. Let me know if you need any help." He laughed, almost nervously, then clarified, "Help with the laptop, I mean. I know you don't want me. Anyway, enjoy!" He ruffled my hair and left me to it.

To my utmost shock, he didn't bring it up again.

Weeks passed since he gave me the laptop, and I had watched the videos he bookmarked more than a couple of times. I was ready for something new, but navigating the internet to find new material was a feat I wasn't sure I was ready for.