Screwmates(44)

“I love the Kama Sutra. I fucking love books.” I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was getting close. As he thickened inside me, I was getting close to another one too. And from the tightening of my belly, it was going to be a strong, body-rocking orgasm. My legs were quaking, hardly able to ride him without his strong hands on my hips guiding me up and down, pistoning me on him.

“I fucking love books,” he yelled. Which that, he began to pulse, and I went over the edge, gripping around him again and again.

“I love you,” I accidentally yelled back.

The silence and stillness that followed is simply indescribable.

Um. Oops.





Fifteen





Welp. That was awkward. Beyond awkward. The awkwardest. There was only one recourse after a situation like that, and it was to flee into my room and then never come out. My humiliation was compounded by fleeing in the nude, and forgetting my fancy underpants were still in there with him. He’d paid for them anyway, so I supposed he would just get to keep them as a souvenir.

There was just no circumstance under which I could return.

I wondered if Postmates could deliver food to my window. If not, surely Lizzie would pity me. Scarlet wouldn’t, she would tell me to face my problems. And Ava would force me to face them by taking my door off the hinges just to eat popcorn and watch the weirdness play out when I couldn’t hide anymore.

Marc knocked, but I ignored it.

“I’ll just leave your… underthings out here with your pajamas,” he said, and retreated. I didn’t bother to answer. I burrowed under the covers. What was I thinking? Of all the things to accidentally scream out during climax. Why couldn’t I have just taken the lord’s name in vain like everyone else in the world having sex?

Did I say life was nirvana? Life was hell.

I’d gone from the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair in a matter of moments. I supposed I couldn’t stay in here forever, after all, if for no other reason than that I didn’t have an en-suite bathroom.

But what on earth was I going to tell my roommate when I emerged? I had to say something. After all, my naked flight from his bed meant I couldn’t very well just pretend it hadn’t happened. So… “Hey, buddy, sorry for declaring my undying love mid-coitus, enjoy that trip abroad and all the accompanying broads, though.” It just wouldn’t work. It raised more questions than it answered.

Maybe I could just crawl out the window and never return. The problem with that, of course, was that I didn’t have another roommate option which was how I’d ended up in this mess to begin with.

No, the only answer was to burn the house down, faking my death, and then to take on a new identity as my own twin sister and collect the insurance money.

It seemed too complicated, though.

It was time to do what I always did when things seemed overwhelming. My head emerged from the blankets first, followed by my arm, which felt around for one of the hundred pencils that littered my room.

It was time to pour my soul out into a notebook, and then let it go… to the internet. It was strangely comforting to have the validation of perfect strangers liking my comic about all this. I supposed that was why celebrities kept Twitter accounts. Maybe I needed one of those, too.

I worked for a little while, sketching out a piece in which the scenario that had just happened, happened. How did I fix this? What would Brandon and his wife like to see?

The fire scenario. For sure.

Maybe minus the imaginary twin. Also, maybe minus the fake death. And minus the arson, fine.

In the comic, I made the fire result from a sexy-time candle and a curtain. A tale as old as time. It was better that way, anyways. Then my audience could wait to find out what Markus would eventually tell Maddy, and I could wait to figure it out, too.

I still could hardly get my head around the idea of an audience. But a quick glance at my page assured me that not only had the number reblogs gone up, but a lot of people were also commenting. And… they liked it. So Markus and Maddy debated whether or not they could plausibly bang in the back of the firetruck, while the Great Unanswered L-Word hung over them. Literally, I drew a dark cloud shaped like the letters L-O-V-E.

Plus, they were still going to collect that insurance money and move into a place with a spare room for a studio. Now that the seed had been planted in my head, I was determined to make it happen. As I sketched and then inked, I felt the tension start to drain out of me. I would upload the file, and then just lay down for five minutes while I figured out what to do next.

While the computer was on, though, I knew I needed to check my email. There was another one waiting from that lady who said she was an agent. Out of curiosity, I googled her name.

Holy of holies. She was an actual factual real life agent.

I slammed the computer shut.

If that was real, then all of this was real.

And if all of this was real, then soon everyone would know what I had done.

My lies would be exposed to Ava and the girls.

My extracurriculars would be exposed to Marc.

And worst of all, perhaps, my mother would know what I’d been doing in my spare time.

And here I thought blurting out the L-word was the most embarrassing thing I could imagine. Nope. It was my mother knowing that not only was I slutting around the place with my roommate, I was also publicizing it for the world to see. Tastefully, of course. But she wouldn’t see it that way. And my father would disinherit me, I was certain.