Dawn love

épisode 3

POV of Samuel

I came home without really knowing why. The door closed behind me and I stood there for a moment in the entrance, keys still in my hand. The night with Gabi kept looping in my head. Not just the s*x. The intensity. That way she had given herself without holding back, while still keeping something strange, something restrained. f**k… it had been f*****g strong. Stronger than usual.

I dropped onto the couch, head thrown back, eyes on the ceiling. Nextor was calm. For once.

Then someone knocked on the door.

I opened without thinking. Isabelle.

Bossy as f**k. Hair perfectly styled, designer bag, already accusatory look. She walked in without waiting for an invitation, like she had every right to be here.

— You haven’t been answering your messages lately? she snapped, dropping her bag. I called you three times last night. Three times, Samuel. And you did nothing. As usual.

I said nothing. I just looked at her. She kept going, voice getting colder.

— You think I’m gonna keep accepting this kind of s**t? You disappear, you reappear when it suits you, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat… and then you’re surprised I get pissed?

Still no words from me. Just that calm that pissed her off even more. In my head I was thinking this was the same old song. Girls like her needed to scream to feel important. Me? I didn’t feel like playing anymore.

She stepped closer, finger raised, ready to keep going. So I cut her off.

I grabbed her by the nape of the neck and kissed her. Hard. Out of nowhere. She resisted for half a second, then her lips opened. I slid my hand into her hair, kissed her temple, her neck. She let out a surprised little sound.

We ended up in the salon. I started taking off her jacket, then my t-shirt. Her hands were already on me. Everything was fast, like always. Except…

Gabi.

Her image slammed into my brain before I could stop it. Her blonde skin. The way she moaned into the pillow. That heat. f**k, it was weird. I had never thought about another girl while having one under my hands.

We kept going. My lips on hers, my fingers sliding under her top. Isabelle pressed against me, already wet. And me… I blocked.

Literally.

I stopped dead. Hands still on her, breathing a little short. She opened her eyes, confused.

— What’s happening?

I stepped back.

— Nothing. I don’t feel well.

She frowned. I turned and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the cold water, splashed my face, stayed bent over the sink for a few seconds. The water dripped from my chin. In the mirror I looked… different. Or maybe just tired.

When I came back out, Isabelle was still waiting in the salon. I said calmly:

— You know what… I need to rest.

I walked past her and went to the bedroom. She followed, of course. She sat on the edge of the bed while I lay down on my back, one arm under my head.

— I get it, she started. Maybe it’s just a heavy day. We can go slow… or wait a bit.

Her fingers slid over my chest. Then lower. She tried to light the fire. Usually it worked. Usually Nextor woke up in two seconds.

Here… nothing.

For the first time, the flame didn’t come back.

I stayed lying there, eyes on the ceiling, while she kept stroking, slower this time, more insistent. She leaned down, pressed her lips to my chest, then lower. I felt her tongue, warm, precise. Usually at this point Nextor would jump like a trained dog. Here… nothing. No shiver. Not even a polite half-erection.

Isabelle lifted her head. Her eyes searched mine.

— You sure you’re okay?

— Yeah.

She didn’t push with words. She just kept going. She took off her top in one smooth move, then her bra. Her t**s appeared, perfect, firm, the kind a girl who knows exactly what she’s worth. She took my hand and put it on them. I felt the heat of her skin, the softness… and absolutely nothing else. No desire. No spark.

She started rubbing against my thigh, slowly, watching me. Her breathing got faster. Mine stayed calm. Too calm.

— Samuel… she whispered. Talk to me. Tell me what you want.

I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed on the ceiling. And in my head, it was only Gabi. Again. The way she moaned. The density of her skin. That f*****g intensity that had left me stunned all day.

Isabelle finally stopped. She sat up, cheeks a little pink, breathing short. There was confusion in her eyes. Then anger.

— What the f**k is this? she snapped, voice harder. You kiss me, you undress me, and now you’re lying here like a f*****g statue? You’re shitting on my face?

I turned my head to her for the first time in minutes.

— I told you I don’t feel well.

— And that’s it? No better excuse? Because seriously…

She let out a dry, hurt laugh.

— You’ve got someone else on your mind, right? One of your little conquests from last night?

I didn’t confirm or deny. My silence was enough.

Isabelle stood up fast. She grabbed her bra, her top, her jacket. Her movements were sharp, almost violent. She dressed in silence, back turned. When she was done she stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

— You know what disgusts me most? It’s not that you reject me. It’s the way you do it. Like I’m interchangeable. Like my body doesn’t even deserve an effort.

I stayed lying there, one arm under my head.

— You can leave, Isabelle.

She opened her mouth, ready to go off again, then changed her mind. She just nodded, lips pressed tight.

— You’re really a f*****g asshole, Samuel.

She turned and I heard her heels on the parquet in the salon, then the door slamming shut.

The silence hit like a punch.

I stayed alone in the bedroom, eyes still on the ceiling. And for the first time in a very long time, I had no desire to call anyone.