Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(32)

He responded to this one, of course. I’d bang that.

He was being too nice. I looked atrocious.

I sent another text, this time including a picture of the book I’d been reading off and on. And no one can nag me if all I want to do is read all evening.

He answered this text immediately too. And no one can nag me if all I want to do is whack off. The picture that followed was of his dick.

Somehow every good text conversation ended in a dick pic.

At least it was a good dick pic.

I couldn’t help myself. I may be able to find room for that here.

It’s a tight fit.

I threw my phone down with a huff. This wasn’t helping. Not because now I was just thinking about his dick, though I was, but also because even though I did want to come home to my stuff and have my space, and know that no one was going to intrude or yell, or want me to share my time and obligations with them, it was still really nice to have him to text. Was really nice knowing he was somewhere out there, wanting to talk to me.

I forced myself back to my armchair, to the show I was so lucky to be able to watch without anyone interrupting me. Though I couldn’t quite focus on the storyline, I sat there until the episode finished, then I crawled into my bed.

Alone.

I did like having the pillows to myself. And not having to share the covers.

But I still picked up my phone one more time and sent a final text. I miss you.

He responded. I’ll fix this.





Chapter Ten



Nate’s words comforted me as I fell asleep.

But of course, the next morning, reality hit again. I had to face myself in the mirror. I was going to have to give something up, no matter what. Either I was going to have to sacrifice pieces of my stubborn self or I was going to have to let this whole relationship with Nate go. I’d only known him a short time. We were still just getting to know each other. It wasn’t like we were in love yet, but I could see the potential. I liked him, which was a giant step for me. I liked the way he lived his life. I could actually see me living parts of my life the way he lived parts of his life.

And he certainly understood my sexual habits. That was one of the most important traits in anyone who was ever going to be in a relationship with me.

It was strange that I was considering a relationship at all. I’d long since decided that I was going to be a free bird forever, just spending time with the people that I met through my work and the people at the Open Door. Never really tying myself to any one individual.

But Nate was special.

He was different because he didn’t ask me to be the things that other men asked me to be. Not yet, anyway. He seemed to understand that I wasn’t the girlfriend type. That I didn’t want rings and ceremonies, and he still bothered to stick around.

I brooded and fussed about this for most of Sunday.

It wasn’t until I was opening my Chinese delivery on Sunday evening that I realized I’d never even asked him what he wanted in his life. Maybe I was hemming and hawing about Nate and society’s bullshit expectations when all he wanted was a couple of rolls in the hay.

Could it be? Maybe he wasn’t even interested in being tied down. It wasn’t like he’d asked me to be his girlfriend. Sure, he’d taken me to a wedding on our second date, but he himself had said it was a fake wedding, whatever that meant. Perhaps I’d read all the signs wrong. That would be embarrassing.

And relieving.

And disappointing?

My feelings were too tangled to decipher.

I decided the only thing to do was wait for him to make another move. When he did, if he did, I would know he was still interested, and then I could ask him exactly what he wanted. And then maybe—then certainly—I could find some way to make a compromise. Find some way to let him into my life without disturbing the things that were sacred to me.

It was a good decision. I felt good about it. Really good.

Until Sunday passed with no word from him.

And then Monday.

And then a full week.

When I got dressed on Saturday night, I knew it was my last shot. If Nate didn’t come to the Open Door party that night, he was definitely over me. And why wouldn’t he be? I threw such a big hissy fit last time over…what?

Over him helping me out of an annoying situation involving an overbearing older man trying to worm his way into my bed for the eightieth time?

I should’ve been more grateful.

Why had I been so fussy about it? The strong feelings from last Saturday had faded entirely, until they no longer felt recognizable to me.

No, I didn’t want to share my apartment, but he’d never given me an ounce of an idea that he was ready to move in. As far as I knew, all he really wanted was more regular sex.

And wasn’t that what I basically spent every week chasing already?

It was definitely time for me to make up for my abhorrent behavior last week, and just as long as my grand gesture didn’t involve a ring—or a label—I was willing to do anything.

I wore the same lingerie that he’d picked out for me the night of the wedding: the garter belt and stockings without panties. I even wore the bra, though I didn’t usually harness the girls at the parties. Then I put on the dress that I’d been wearing the first night he’d met me, pinned my hair up, and took a good look at myself. I slipped on some strappy shoes. After one more glance in the mirror, I straightened my mask, took a deep breath, and left my house.