Hesitating, I chose to give her the truth, or at least half of it. “I was up here, too.”
“You didn’t. With him, really? What did I tell you about dropping those panties?”
“Well, we’re seeing if we can make this work. He insisted on us doing stuff before he left. He said it would reassure me that he’s all in.”
“He insisted? Wow, that sounds… yeah, romantic, maybe.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You don’t say.” Her one raised eyebrow is quite comical. “It wasn’t like forced, right?”
“No, it wasn’t forced. I didn’t say no…”
“But…”
“But he doesn’t touch me like he wants me, you know? He touches me like he just wants the reward at the end?—”
“Oh…but he doesn’t want to work for it?”
“Exactly. He doesn’t even let me take my clothes off because my bag offends him. He doesn’t want me touching myself because my hand offends him.”
“I bet it doesn’t offend him when you’re touching him.”
“We didn’t get that far because I just kinda dried up and drifted off, thinking about non-sex stuff while his fingers were still down there. He ended up finishing in a sock.”
“Oh, wow. Kinda glad we didn’t do it. You know, if you’re that much fun.” Annabelle nudges me playfully.
“It’s just… it’s him. Since finding out everything, I don’t see him the same way. Even with his hands down there, it took so long to, you know…”
“What? Get wet?”
“It didn’t happen, and then?—”
“And then?”
“I thought of someone else and—and I know that’s wrong, but whenever I look at Shane, I see those women.”
“That’s what’s wrong. He’s wrong. Wrong for you. What you do, you do to make the situation bearable for you.”
I nod, but I still feel guilty for my thoughts and for admitting them.
The bedsheets offer very little comfort as I take the cotton between my fingers.
“So,” Annabelle continues, “Did you have anyone in mind when you pictured someone else?” Her lips curl suspiciously, and she looks so unkempt and nothing like her usual self with her bed hair.
“Someone I shouldn’t.”
“Like…”
“Like…”
The door across the hall opens at the same time as my mouth, and it silences me.
A girly laugh comes from the other side of the door.
“Did Ambrose have someone stay over?”
“I don't know,” Annabelle shrugs. She reaches for her phone before tossing it back on the pillow. “It’s dead.”
