Exit Wounds | Noah Sebastian

T W O

Caleb doesn't hold my hand anymore, or kiss me.  He doesn't see me when we are in the same room as each other, we are two ships passing in the night.  He doesn't tell me he loves me when he leaves and I barely get more than a closed mouth kiss when he doesn't acknowledge me. We haven't had sex in two months, and he doesn't look at me when I get undressed.

He doesn't look at me the way I still look at him, the way I still beg him to just see me.

I've never been insecure until Caleb.

I know we can be who we used to be if we just put the work in.

I slip out of bed at seven the next morning, I've always been an early riser. I move to the kitchen and whip up some waffles. I leave a plate in the microwave for Caleb and wash the dishes. I drink a pre-workout drink and head down to the apartment gym.

I've just finished my workout when I see Caleb dragging himself to the kitchen. We don't speak to each other as he warms up breakfast and I go to take a shower. I put on leggings and one of Caleb's large t-shirts.

"Did you have fun last night?" I ask, sitting down on the couch beside him. He's got the race on and he's desperately checking his social media.

"Yeah, Dusty needed me to be his wingman," he says, and he gets a funny grin. A grin that used to be reserved for me.

I don't think about the possibility that Caleb is cheating on me. We both talked about this in the beginning, he had been cheated on in his past and he assured me that he would never do that.

"Did you talk to any girls?" I ask, if I don't ask the right questions I won't get the right answers.

"You know you are the only girl for me," he says, then plants a kiss on my forehead. I try not to gag as he dodges the question.

"That's not what I asked," I say, he still hasn't looked up from his phone. I try to ignore the red numbers in the top right corner.

"I talked to a couple of girls, but just to talk Dusty up," he says, finally putting his phone down and giving me his attention. I don't press the issue any further, mostly because I just don't give a damn anymore.  It's not worth the fight.

"Let's go on a date tonight," I suggest, just like the kisses and the sex, the dates don't happen anymore. It seems like a trivial thing to still want, when we see each other all day every day, but we never do anything with just the two of us.

"I spent too much money last night, why don't you just cook? You know I like your food better than any restaurant," he says, easily. His attention is back on his phone and the race.

"Sure," I say, not surprised by his answer. It's not flattering that he wants me to cook. I hate cooking, he knows it, but I'm good at it. It's not like we eat out all of the time and he never gets a homecooked meal. I cook all of the time, unless I'm sick and physically can't cook.

I don't bother telling him I'm going to our spare bedroom, where I keep my computer. I have a pretty rad job, writing my own blog. I need to let off some steam, and I need to be productive.

I've successfully avoided Caleb all day, and I leave my office around 6 to start dinner. Caleb comes up behind me as I'm chopping vegetables for the fajitas I'm making.

"Do you mind if Dusty comes over?" Of course, I love when your friends come over last minute when I haven't had a chance to clean the apartment and you'll both ignore me all night. However, if I say no I will be a bitch.

"Sure," I tell him and let him kiss me on the cheek. I pour myself a glass of wine, so I can deal with this night.

"Hey!" Dusty shouts, as he lets himself into our apartment.

I don't mind Dusty so much, he's a relatively nice guy. However, he's loud, he stomps his feet through our apartment and he chews with his mouth open.  One night the stomped a beer can flat on the rug in the living room.

"Hey, Dusty," I greet, as he puts his beer in our fridge and grabs one. He leaves his bottle cap on the counter, so I throw it in the trash can. Caleb and Dusty take over the TV, and put on a hockey game. Normally, we'd be cheering the Predators on, but we were knocked out of the playoffs first round this year. 

I finish the fajitas and call the guys to come eat. I wait for them to fix their plates before I fix my own plate and sit at the bar in our kitchen while the guys go back to the couch. I take a long drink of my wine and my phone dings. I don't check it, and finish my plate.

I wash the dishes from dinner and join the guys on the couch. I try not to take offense when I sit next to Caleb and he scoots farther away from me. I check my phone, it's a friend request, from Noah Sebastian. I roll my eyes as I accept.

The three of us chat easily, and Caleb lays a hand on my knee. I smile at the contact. I crave him, his touch, his attention.

Dusty finally leaves once his 6-pack is gone, around midnight. Caleb and I head to the bedroom to get ready. Caleb changes his clothes, while I brush my teeth. When I exit the bathroom Caleb goes in and I slip off my leggings and crawl into bed. Caleb has stripped down to his boxers and gets in bed next to me.

Caleb used to lay on his back and make me lay my head on his chest. He would wrap and arm around me and I would listen to the erratic beats of his heart. We would talk, and joke about our day. It used to be this intimate thing.

"Wanna mess around?" I ask, crawling on top of him. I lean down to kiss him, and he kisses me back, but gently lifts me off of him.

"Babe, I'm really tired," he says, punctuating his statement with a yawn.

"Okay, goodnight," I tell him and roll over.  I keep my mouth closed as the tears run down my cheeks.