Chapter 2 : The Text
1258 Words
I didn’t sleep.
I lay on the floor of my empty duplex until 3am listening to every sound the house made. The fridge humming. The wind. Damien pouring another drink through the wall.
At 3:14 my phone lit up.
Unknown number.
_You still up, neighbor? -D_
I stared at it. My thumb hovered over delete.
Then: _I can hear your ceiling fan._
Creepy.
I typed: _Go to bed._
Sent.
Three dots.
_Can’t. Thinking about you in that hoodie._
My stomach flipped. I was still wearing it. The one I’d worn to get pizza.
_Stop._
_Make me._
God.
I threw the phone across the room. It landed on my one pillow.
Five minutes later it buzzed again.
A photo.
His balcony. Empty. Two whiskey glasses on the railing. The caption: _One was for you._
I didn’t reply. I rolled over and pressed my face into the floorboards like that would make him stop texting.
At 7am I had to be at the clinic. I had 3 hours of sleep and a headache and a text thread I should’ve blocked.
I was making coffee when there was a knock.
Ethan.
Hair wet. Scrubs on. Holding a paper bag.
“I brought breakfast,” he said. “Thought you might’ve forgotten to grocery shop.”
“I did.”
He smiled. The old Ethan smile. The one that used to make me feel safe. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside. He looked around at my boxes. “You’ve got a lot to do.”
“I’ll get to it.”
He set the bag on the counter. Muffins. My favorite. Blueberry.
“You remembered,” I said.
“I remember everything about you, Lena.”
The way he said it made my chest hurt.
We stood there in awkward silence until his phone buzzed. He glanced at it. Frowned.
“Work?” I asked.
“Damien,” he said, and put it face down. “He’s asking if you came by for more pizza.”
I nearly choked. “What did you say?”
“That I don’t keep tabs on you.”
He was lying. I could tell.
“I should go,” he said. “Early shift. But... dinner tonight? Just us. Catch up?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
He left and the house felt too big again.
---
The day was hell. Patients. Paperwork. My boss asking if I was “settled in.”
I wasn’t.
I got home at 6pm to another text.
_Dinner with him? -D_
How did he know.
_Mind your business._
_It is my business. You live 10 feet from me._
I ignored it. I showered. I put on jeans and a black top for dinner with Ethan.
At 7:30 there was a knock.
Ethan. Flowers. Actual flowers.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thanks. You too.”
We went to a small restaurant 10 minutes away. It was nice. Normal. He asked about the clinic. I asked about his job. We laughed twice.
It should’ve felt good.
It felt like cardboard.
When he dropped me off at 9:30 he walked me to my door.
“I missed you,” he said quietly.
“I missed you too.”
He leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me.
I turned my head at the last second. His lips brushed my cheek.
“Goodnight, Lena.”
I watched him go to his side.
The second my door closed, my phone buzzed.
_Did he kiss you? -D_
I didn’t answer.
_I can see his porch light. It’s off. That means you’re inside._
_Leave me alone._
_Come here._
I shouldn’t have.
I did.
I slipped out the back door. The night was hot. His balcony light was on.
Damien was shirtless. Sweatpants. Hair damp from a shower. He looked like sin.
“You came,” he said.
“You told me to.”
“No. I asked.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”
Inside it was dark. Only the lamp on. It smelled like him. Cedar and whiskey and something I couldn’t name.
“You had dinner with him,” he said. Not a question.
“Yeah.”
“How was it?”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” He said the word like it tasted bad. He crossed to me. “Look at me.”
I did.
“You’re lying.” His hand came up and tucked hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered. “You didn’t want to kiss him.”
“How would you know.”
“Because you’re here.”
He was too close. I could feel his heat.
“Damien—”
“Shh.” He backed me up until I hit the wall. His hands went to my hips. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His mouth came down on mine. Hard.
It wasn’t soft like Ethan. It wasn’t careful. It was claiming. His tongue parted my lips and he kissed me like he was angry at me for making him wait.
I made a sound. I couldn’t help it.
His hands slid under my shirt. Bare skin. He groaned into my mouth.
“You feel so good,” he muttered against my jaw. “God, Lena. I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you through the window.”
“Damien, stop—”
“Stop?” He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark. “Say the word and I will. But you don’t want me to.”
He was right.
His hand slid down to the button of my jeans. Flicked it open.
“Last chance,” he breathed.
I grabbed his shirt. Pulled him back to me.
That was all the answer he needed.
He lifted me. My legs went around his waist. He carried me to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. Dropped me on the bed.
Clothes came off fast. Too fast. His mouth was everywhere. Neck. Collarbone. Stomach.
When his hand slid between my legs I gasped and arched off the bed.
“Shh,” he whispered, fingers moving. “They’ll hear you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Good girl.”
It was filthy. It was desperate. It was everything I hadn’t let myself feel in a year.
When I came I bit down on my hand to stay quiet. He watched me. Smirked.
After he rolled on top of me. Nudged my legs apart.
“You sure?” he asked, voice rough.
“Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
It was slow at first. Then not. The bed creaked. I dug my nails into his back.
“Damien—”
“I’ve got you,” he said, moving with me. “Feel that? That’s me. Only me.”
When it hit me again I couldn’t stay quiet. I cried out.
He covered my mouth with his hand, laughing low.
“There you go,” he breathed in my ear. “Let them hear.”
We collapsed after. Sweating. Shaking.
He pulled me to his chest.
“Stay,” he said.
“I have work.”
“I’ll drive you.” He kissed my hair. “And tomorrow night too.”
My phone buzzed on the floor. Ethan: _You home safe?_
I didn’t answer.
Damien saw. “Good,” he murmured. “He doesn’t get to have you tonight.”
I should’ve felt guilty.
I didn’t.
I fell asleep in his arms.
- Writer
