Present Perfect(108)

Every second of every minute of every day, month, and year with you has been perfect. I love you. I adore you. And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.” I paused for a moment as I slipped the yellow diamond ring out of my pocket. Looking up into her eyes I said, “Aman… “

“That’s not what you call me. Don’t try and change it now.” Tears were streaming down her face.

“Tweet, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She couldn’t get her words out, she was so choked up. She held out her trembling hand and I slowly slide the ring on her finger. Standing, I grabbed her and gave her a slow deep kiss that left her breathless.

“I love you, Noah.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Noah.”

“One more time.”

“I love you, Noah.” She paused for a few seconds. “I’m going to be Mrs. Tweet Stewart.” She began to laugh at her own words. “I’m sorry for laughing. It just sounds so…”

“Perfect?” I said.

“As a matter of fact, it couldn’t be any more perfect.”





Tomorrow I need to stop by Jason’s place and get the notes from Ethics class and then go get my car washed. Shit! I’m supposed to meet Mom in a couple of hours for dinner. She must be feeling guilty about something. Whenever she thinks she’s not being a good mother, which isn’t often, she either buys me an expensive gift or takes me to a fancy restaurant. She asks me a few inane questions, that I mindlessly answer, and then we stare at each other for an hour. This charade seems to soothe her guilt and at least I get a good meal out of it.

“Faster, Brad! I need it faster!” she moaned.

I’m going as fast as I can. I’m not a f*cking hummingbird. She was the one who needed to hurry up. I liked Becca, okay, but she took forever to come. When we first started this “relationship”, for lack of a better word, it was a challenge. I tried to beat my best time, but now I’m over it, and ready to move on. For the past three weeks I’ve been dropping hints that things were coming to an end, but she doesn’t seem to be picking up on any of them. It wasn’t that I didn’t like having her around. She ran a lot of errands for me and did my laundry every week, which really freed up my time. I could feel she was getting too attached and thinking we were something more than we were. So, tonight was it. One last goodbye f*ck and I was out of her and here, if she’d finish already.

“Right there, baby. I’m almost there,” she yelled out.

“Becca, I have to meet my mom for dinner in like two hours,” I grunted.

I thrust into her hard one more time causing her to finally come unglued.

“Ooooh, Brad! Brad! Brad! I love you!” she screamed.

Shit, this was going to be awkward.

I started to climb off of her when her arms wrapped around my neck, stopping me.

“Don’t move yet. Stay inside of me for a while, baby.” The grip she had on my neck was like a vise.

“I can’t, Becca. I told you I have plans tonight.”

I saw tears start to pool in her eyes as her grip loosened. I slid out and off of her as quickly as possible. I need to go ahead and let her know this was the end of the road for us. Tossing the condom in the trashcan, I quickly threw on my boxers and jeans. Glancing back, I saw her lying on her side, curled up in a ball, watching me. A few tears had managed to roll down her cheeks. I shrugged my shirt on and started to button it. Neither of us had said a word. I felt her eyes burning a hole in my back.

Regardless of what women think, it’s difficult for a guy when he has to breakup with them. There are usually tears and either furry or begging. I’d rather deal with hate and anger because it makes for a quick getaway and only reinforces that the breakup is the right call. The beggars were difficult. I’m always physically attracted to the girls I’m with, otherwise I wouldn’t be f*cking them. Things usually fell apart for me when they opened their mouths to talk. I’d never been very interested in listening to whatever they were talking about. There has only been one exception to this, Amanda Kelly. I really liked what came out of her mouth. I liked Becca, but I liked her more for her ability to get the wrinkles out of my shirts than anything else. I inhaled a deep breath before turning around.

As our eyes locked I got a strange feeling that what I was about to do was going to hurt her more than the others.

Turning around, I cleared my throat, and said, “Becca, I think we’re done.”

“I know, you said you have plans and you’re dressed already,” she said quietly, struggling to hold her voice steady.

“I’m not talking about tonight. It’s time we move on.”

Slowly raising herself up on to her elbows, she blinked a couple of times in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

Sweet Jesus, this girl’s got a four point zero average. Apparently, book smarts doesn’t translate into real life comprehension.

“I’m going to start seeing other people and so should you,” I said as neutral as possible. My intention is never to be mean, but if the chick pushes me, I have no problem laying it out there.

“I don’t want to see other people. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. In fact, you do my laundry better than our maid.”