Let's Waste Time

Chapter Thirteen

The first time Trent came to visit during my relationship with Chris, I felt a weird pain in my chest. Like a metaphorical one. I didn’t know if it was because I felt guilty about sneaking around behind Trent’s back and not telling him the truth about who I spent time with when he was away. Or if it was because Chris was over there in his apartment all by himself while I shared my bed with someone else.

But it was definitely different. I felt it right away. And it should have been a sign of things to come. I was naïve. And I purposefully blinded myself to the obvious. Trent and I spent a very brief amount of time flirting before we ended up in my bedroom, and then I laid there staring at my ceiling wondering what the hell had gone wrong.

He didn’t spend much time focusing on me. I’d never been selfish in the bedroom. I didn’t want it to be entirely about me. But that didn’t mean I wanted it to be entirely about him either. When I was with Chris, it felt like we were both having s*x. When I was with Trent that night, it felt like he was having s*x with me and not so much the other way around. He seemed to realize that something was wrong.

“You okay?” he asked later when we were lying side by side in my bed. I was staring at the ceiling again because I thought he’d fallen asleep. He usually always fell asleep.

“I'm all right,” I told him.

“You seem kind of out of it.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been really busy lately.”

“Well, I have to leave kind of early tomorrow. But I’ll call you, and we’ll talk about it, okay?” I gave him a smile.

“Sure, just get some sleep.”

And he did. He fell asleep quickly, and I laid there for a long time trying to keep my mind from traveling back to Chris. But it was useless. It wasn’t that I was in love with the guy. I just felt kind of bad about the whole situation. So while Trent was sleeping, I climbed out of my bed and put my sweats back on. Then I stepped out onto the front steps and leaned against my door. I sighed and closed my eyes. It was just fresh air that I needed.

But then the door beside mine opened, and Chris looked out at me.

“You alright, kid?” he asked. I sighed and breathed out heavily.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. He motioned into his house.

“Come in for a minute, and we’ll talk.” I pushed away from the door and followed him inside. I sat down on his couch, and he went to make me a drink. Apple juice and whiskey. When he came back, he set the glass in my hands and sat down on the coffee table in front of me, giving me his full attention. “So what’s up?” he asked.

“Do you feel like we’re doing something wrong?” I asked him.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he replied. I closed my eyes again. “And I kind of expected this to happen when you told me he was coming.”

“I just feel really terrible. And not about him because—of everything that he’s doing to his wife, you know. Like I understand that—that he loves me but—I still feel—immoral. Does that make me a bad person?” I looked back at him. “I feel worse about cheating on him than I do about him cheating on her?” He bit the inside of his lip.

“We can stop anytime you want, Marley. I’d never ask you to keep doing this if you’re not happy.”

“I know—I want to—That’s the problem.” He sat the glass down on the table beside him.

“So what do you want to do about it?” he asked me.

“I don’t know. I just—need some time to figure it out, please?” I replied.

“I’ll give you all the time you need.” I sent him a nervous smile.

“Thanks, Chris. You’re a really good friend.” He smiled back.

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for the drink. I’m going to head back over there before he wakes up.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” I stood up and headed for the door.

“Kay—um—bye.” I waved and hurried out of there, but he didn’t wave back.

Trent left the next morning. Early. He gave me one kiss on the lips before he was out the door. Then I couldn’t get back to sleep, and I laid there staring at my ceiling as the sun was rising. It was safe to say I knew every ridge in the plaster by heart already. But I was bored of staring at them, so I climbed out of bed and left my apartment. Chris had given me a key to his place, but I’d never used it. The key was painted bright orange and every time I held my keys I immediately zeroed in on it and what it represented.

I slid the orange key into the lock in the black door and heard it click open. His apartment was quiet, and it was still early. So I figured he must be sleeping. I dropped my keys on his coffee table and tiptoed to his bedroom. Then there he was, lying on his bed half on his side and hugging a pillow to his chest. I went to the other side of the room, pulled the blankets back, and climbed in beside him. He woke up immediately and pulled me against him. I pressed my lips against his bare chest.

“You okay?” he asked me in a tired, groggy voice.

“I'm all right,” I told him. “Trent just left.”

He took a moment to answer this. I was sure he was thinking about it. Either thinking I missed him or dwelling on his hatred of Trent. But then he moved my hair out of my face and kissed my temple, right beneath my glasses. I loved Trent with all my heart, but Chris held me differently. His arms were large, soft, and welcoming. Maybe it was because Chris didn’t have a wife and kids somewhere. He had a girlfriend, but that was different. And she apparently knew about his activities. Maybe she didn’t know about me, but she knew enough. But then he moved his lips over my skin and they almost, barely, brushed my lips.

“What are you doing?” I asked, freezing to the spot.

“Some people think the buildup is better than the kiss itself,” he replied.

And he was right. He hovered just out of my reach. Occasionally his lips would touch mine so gently that I’d barely feel them. And every time it happened, I got a jolt through my body, but he never kissed me. That was one of our rules, and he was following it. But he was teasing me. Almost as badly as the foreplay. My breathing had gotten heavier, and I was sure he noticed it.

“Can you do that to the rest of me?” I asked him. He laughed lightly and moved the back of his fingers over my skin to brush the strap of my shirt off of my shoulder.

“Sure,” he said softly as he traced his lips over my collarbone.