The Dramatic Spiel of Arthur and Chardonnay~ (7,141 views)

He waited for her to answer the door, growing more nervous by the second. He didn’t know if she’d changed her mind since she answered his text – or maybe she’d open the door and get mad at him again. Maybe she’d start their argument again. He guessed he wouldn’t mind that so much, because maybe they’d squabble and then halfway through one of them would just grab the other and kiss them, and then they’d stumble their way to her bed, and even if they were still mad at each other, they could still have great sex. Hell, they’d done it before, and sometimes when they were both pissed off at each other it was the hottest sex they had. Neither of them really liked to go at it gently when they were mad, and though sometimes afterwards he was concerned about it, she never objected to it. In fact, having what the media might like to call ‘hate-sex’ often left the two of them in a way better mood after, and not as mad anymore. Or, if they were mad, it turned into harmless post-sex banter that they spat at each other until they fell asleep. He wasn’t sure if this would turn into that and he wouldn’t be opposed to it if it did.

The door finally opened and Arthur blinked over at her. She was wearing something lace and loose, and he knew her irritated expression was due to the plaid of his shirt. He didn’t care, though, especially not when she reached over and grabbed him by the collar and pulled her lips to his. It was funny how, despite kissing her for over three years (not counting their first) he still forgot how amazing the feeling was when he went without her kisses for so long. He didn’t waste much time before he kissed her back and went into the foyer with her, kicking the door shut behind him. He was just as desperate for her and kissed her back aggressively, as he let his bag slump down to the floor and put his hands on her waist. He didn’t want her to pull away from him to speak at all, he just wanted to get her back to her bed and get inside of her. But she did speak, she mentioned the dinner, and suddenly all of his thoughts about before came back.

”I’m over it,” He said, and he returned his kiss, though the more he moved against her the more he found himself thinking about it. It was kind of a turn-off to remember her family, and he felt like he had to explain something, so between kisses he breathed out some kind of an explanation. ”My boss didn’t tell me it was your father. I tried to warn you,” He sighed against her lips, his hands wandering up her top to brush the skin of her back, before one of them dipped lower and felt up her ass, pulling her body against his. He felt her hands wandering up his skirt, moving on the buttons, beginning to undo them. He loved the way it felt when her hands touched his chest, and he especially loved the way she undid the buttons on his tops. There was a reason he mostly wore button downs to her place – and it wasn’t just because he liked the style (though that was a big part of it). That was one time that her fingers had to move slow on him, and he liked feeling her fingertips brush down the fabric.

He kissed her again and slid one of his hands out of pushed the material of her shirt up, trying to get it off of her. But as he did so, and as he felt the material of her bra underneath his fingertips, he paused. He remembered, then, what her father had said about grandchildren and her reaction. He was still touching Chardonnay but there was something off about his hands – they weren’t wandering as much as they usually did, and his kisses as he left them on her lips slowed down as the passion began to ebb. He... didn’t know why he was thinking about that now. No. He could ask after, right? Because when he opened his eyes and looked at Chardonnay she still wanted him, and he definitely missed this, and if he said anything the kissing would have to stop, so he kissed her again, almost forced himself to, trying to get rid of the distraction he felt and the way his mind kept jumping back to what Thomas had said. She was here. He didn’t have any need to think about that.

He moaned into the kiss, and moved his lower body against hers, trying to bring forth the arousal that would successfully make him forget about those thoughts.

He didn’t know that his actions were any different than they normally were. He tried to keep them the same, he tried to kiss her and feel her up with as much passion as he usually did and it worked for a while. Her reactions to his touch and his body were enough to get him to stop thinking, for a few seconds. Feeling her chest against his made him moan, and when she replaced it with her hands and fingers he tried to get sucked into the feeling. It almost worked but he was still slower than he should have been. Way too slow, because Chardonnay noticed. She noticed and she got angry at him and when he was pushed away, Arthur was caught completely off guard. He stumbled back slightly, regained his composure, and stared at her as she snapped at him. He could see her lips were slightly swollen from the kisses and her shirt was slightly tugged upwards, but otherwise, she looked about the same as she had when he walked in. In contrast there was him, with his shirt undone but not off of him, and his breath coming in slightly shallow pants. He blinked and looked away from her.

She could tell he was distracted? He bit down on his lower lip, before he glanced back over at Chardonnay. She asked if it was about the dinner and he couldn’t get the image out of his head of her face after Thomas spoke. He just couldn’t. And she was asking him and he couldn’t lie and try to get back in bed with her. She was smart, and he knew he could never act like everything was fine. She’d get pissed at him then, probably slap him, and tell him if he was going to half-ass sex then they shouldn’t be having it in the first place.

”I...” He said. He did want this. He had missed sex with Chardonnay over the course of the weeks and when it came to the dinner, even during it, he’d missed the sex, he’d wanted for it to be over so that the awkwardness could vanish and he could sleep with her again. Feeling suddenly cold and self-conscious, he grabbed the edges of his shirt and closed them so that his chest wasn’t as visible, and folded his arms over his chest. ”I just, I can’t, I think... you...” He squeezed his eyes shut and decided, fuck it. He was going to blurt it out. ”When your parents were teasing us, your father mentioned grandkids and you paled up. I, I know you don’t want kids and I’m definitely not saying I want any either, not now, but it, I just, your reaction, it kind of – it didn't seem normal...“ he opened his eyes and stared at her, trying to gauge for any kind of a response. ”If we’re having sex then that’s, just, just tell me that your reaction meant nothing! Just tell me that it was you hating the idea of having kids, nothing else, just. Please. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that he was so scared of, but in that moment his throat went dry and all he could think was that he wasn’t going to like what she came back at him with.

Arthur was expecting her to get angry at him right off the bat, and so he was bracing himself for her to start hitting him or screaming at him (or both) immediately. But he was surprised when instead of that Chardonnay paled again and his eyes widened slightly. No. Something was wrong. Something more than her being uncomfortable than kids. He knew that something had to be wrong with a reaction like that.

Just as he thought, though, her anger did flare at his words. She got angry at him and shoved him – he took the shove and didn’t stumble back, bracing himself for it this time – and he glared over at her. She was getting mad at him for being concerned about this? She didn’t have any room to get angry at him. His anger was beginning to bubble as he looked at her face, trying to ignore the fact that when she adamantly insisted she never wanted kids, and he knew he wanted them someday, he felt another emotion mix with the anger. Not now. He wasn’t going to think right now. That emotion was gone as quickly as it came and replaced by more anger. He just wanted answers because whatever the fuck she was telling him wasn’t everything and he... he felt his throat clench as he thought about what she could be lying to him about.

”You said it yourself! We’re regularly having sex, which creates kids! So yeah, when I saw your reaction to his words, it scared me!” Arthur snapped, his arms moving away from his chest in irritation. Unfortunately that just exposed his torso again and so he brought his hands back to his chest, doing up a few of the buttons, even though he came here for sex. But now he was mad, and she wasn’t getting anything from him – not even a view of his chest during this fight. He left the first two buttons undone. ”This isn’t fucking stupid, Chardonnay! This is serious. Because if we’re fucking, I need to know that you’re not pregnant! So what the fuck was your reaction about?!”

He grit his teeth together as he looked at Chardonnay, still convinced something was wrong. He noticed her stiffen after he yelled and knew something had to be wrong. That was further evidence, wasn’t it? She never showed him any kind of weakness and he knew her body language well enough by this point to know she had stiffened for a reason. She adjusted her shirt, slid it down, and if he wasn’t so concerned about a potential pregnancy, he might have disliked that. But in fact that made it easier not to get distracted like he had been before. Not that it really worked... Chardonnay could see through that and it pissed him off because now she was yelling back at him, for getting concerned over a perfectly reasonable thing to be concerned about.

”Don’t you fucking dare call this stupid! This is serious!” He snapped back, even though when she said she wasn’t pregnant he felt a sense of relief rush through his body. But as quickly as the relief came more dread. He rolled his eyes at her phobia comment, not believing it for a second. There wasn’t a phobia like that – was there? And, besides, just because she had a phobia about it didn’t mean... if, if she really was that terrified of getting pregnant she wouldn’t have sex, would she? She’d buy a vibrator instead, or something else to get herself off, or she’d make him pull out (not that he had any faith he would actually remember to) or something. He leaned closer to her, his nostrils still flared with anger, that fire still burning in his eyes. ”Okay! Fine! I believe you, you’re not pregnant! But have you ever been pregnant?! Has that ever, actually, been something you had to think about?!”

He was focused completely on her face now, and he didn’t know what answer he wanted to hear from her. The knot was tightening in his stomach, making him feel ill.

There was a point that she stopped snapping at him and getting angry at him, and that reaction, much like seeing her pale when her father asked her about children, sent a wave of fear rushing through him. No, maybe it was worse now – she should have yelled at him that there was a reason they always used condoms, and that they were always safe, and that there was no reason to believe that she was pregnant or ever had been, or ever would be. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was lying to him and he could tell right away. He felt his hands clam up as she moved around him and away from him, and grabbed his bag, and tossed it out her door. She was trying to kick him out and that only frustrated him more.

”Why the fuck are you lying to me?!” he snapped, turning around to look at her. Now she was right in front of the door, and his shit was out in the hall, but he didn’t care about that right now. Even though he was annoyed she’d kicked it, whatever, it wasn’t like she ever treated any of his shit with respect. He clenched his fists at his sides, and noticed that Chardonnay was still not looking at him. He wasn’t just going to leave, even though part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to tell her fine, that he didn’t fucking care anyway, and to storm off and never text her again. If she was going to keep secrets from him about the sex, about possible pregnancies, he didn’t want to be fuckbuddies with her anymore.

”I care because you’re lying to me about sex, about potential pregnancies, when it would be my sperm that knocked you up! And I know you’re lying!” He spat, ”Jesus fucking CHRIST, you’re not even looking at me! Fucking look at me!”

Finally, she was looking at him, and if she was going to lie to him, Arthur wanted her to look him in the eyes while she did it. If she was going to actually kick him out, and shove him out the door, he wanted her to be looking at him as she did it so he didn’t have any second thoughts about how serious she was about it. When she looked away from him it was like she was trying to hide something from him, and if she kicked him out and he left like that then he knew he’d always be thinking about her even if they never talked again. Even if they seriously ended their fuckbuddy relationship, he’d be thinking about her, like when he tried to kiss Erin and failed because she wasn’t the person he wanted to be kissing. He’d feel guilty, like there was something more he could have done. But if she was screaming his head off now, while looking at him, and then slammed the door in his face, he’d know she meant it.

Her implications that she faked an orgasm while with him, well, it’d definitely be a lie he’d never thought that before, maybe, she did that sometimes just to be done with him. But he didn’t think she’d ever done that, otherwise, why would she still want to touch him and have sex with him if she didn’t get off herself? Still, he didn’t like the idea of not being able to satisfy her, and if that happened enough she’d cut this whole thing off and he’d be back to being single, and celibate. His jaw clenched and he was sure she couldn’t be lying about a pregnancy, not with the way she said that so easily, but then she said she had a pregnancy scare and his blood ran cold and his expression went from angry to confused, and before he could sputter out a question her last comment made the expression on his face go from confused to hurt.

”Wh—what – I -- how many other people are you fucking?!” He spat out, though there was significantly less venom than he wanted to be in it, and he couldn’t mask the fact that asking her that, that picturing her hooking up with other men, hurt him. In his head he tried to convince himself it was for safety and all that. STDs, he didn’t know her other partners, ect, but just the picture of her with Chad (it was always Chad’s slutty ass he pictured with her and he hated it) was enough to make him feel nauseous.

What, was he not enough for her, did he not get her off anymore so she went to someone else? And then why was she still stringing him along? Because she just wanted to hurt his pride? He felt a lump forming in his throat and he knew it was more than his pride that she had just hurt. He didn’t like feeling like this, and he hated that Chardonnay of all people made his heart throb so painfully against his chest, and he didn't like picturing her wrapped up in Chad's arms as he kissed her and slid his hands up her body. He was just pissed because he knew she’d be comparing him to other guys. And if that was a few years ago, then how long had... he felt more than just hurt. He felt somehow violated and his hands and voice trembled. ”If that scare wasn’t because of me, then how many other guys have you been fucking while screwing around with me, huh?! I thought we had an agreement to cut this off if either of us got in a goddamn relationship! So why the fuck would you screw other guys?!”

Every time that he had texted her and gotten a response that she was busy... every time, was she hooking up with someone else? He watched her as she looked away from him. He didn’t like the indescribable feeling that had overtaken him, it was like he was being smothered, like every single time they’d fucked was just some joke to her. That was what bothered him the most. Being compared to someone else, her touching some other guy the way she touched him, some guy who probably was more charismatic and didn’t sound so awkward in bed. Someone who she wasn’t embarrassed to hook up with, someone who could say all the right words and who she probably talked to about him. He could picture, now, her lounging on her couch throwing her head back in laughter as her second fuckbuddy leaned against the door clothed in only a towel.

He was smirking that attractive smirk of his, his arms folded over his chest, as he laughed about Chardonnay’s other sexual partner. He told her to dump him but the Chardonnay in his mind told him no, that it was funny the way she could seduce him every time she saw him. It was funny the way he moaned and the way he thought he could get her off, but she actually didn’t like the sex they had. It was only because she liked to rile him up that she kept this whole thing going. She liked to get him mad and keeping him from moving on with his life because he was so hung up on her and her body. What the hell would she get any enjoyment out of fucking him for, if that guy with glistening abs was here? Arthur was too skinny, she’d said that, and no matter how much he tried he could never eat a full entrée at a restaurant, or pig out and gain weight. Sure, he went to the gym, but he didn’t have muscles on his chest and he probably never would. He was strong but not beefy. He smoked. He didn’t make as much money as Chardonnay did. He didn’t think she had some sugar daddy fuckbuddy, but maybe he bought her things every time he came over to make her feel special. Even if she wasn’t dating some other guy, the thought of her comparing him to someone else made him feel self-conscious, so self-conscious he wanted to make himself sick and run away and never speak to her again. When she said she wasn’t in a relationship with anyone and reminded him that as per their agreement they had no strings attached, he frowned to himself. She could hook up with other people if she wanted. He lifted his head back up to glare at her.

He was still concerned about the pregnancy scare she had mentioned. When was it? She said years ago, was it when they were hooking up? Or had it been before – no. No, she had told him he was her first. So it had to have been while they were fucking. Was it after the nightmare? Was that on her mind, then? Or had she stopped talking to him completely at the time? He remembered that dry spell when she had ignored him. If he wasn’t with him, then her other fuckbuddy, maybe this... maybe that had been when she was seeing someone else. Maybe she had that pregnancy scare and then he dumped her when she said something about it, and then she came back to his doorstep, horny and alone. Maybe that played into her trust issues. She’d said she’d missed this when they had sex that night, but it wasn’t him. She might have just missed having sex. And it wasn’t as though he wanted her to care about him. He didn’t. He just... the more he thought about that explanation, the more sense it made to him, and the sicker he felt. He knew they didn’t have a commitment to one another... so why was it that he insisted on only fucking around with her when she obviously didn’t care?

When she brought up Erin, Arthur was shocked, he had almost forgotten Jason had mentioned her. And Chardonnay had remembered it? Of course, for the argument at hand, it was perfect fuel. But that made him angry again, because it was all her fucking fault that he and Erin had never worked out. He could be in a stable, happy relationship right now and Chardonnay could continue to fuck Chad with no strings attached, and he wouldn’t care. If she had never pulled him into that second kiss after they finished their project, he wouldn’t have cared. Maybe he would have noticed how hot she was at the dinner that would have happened either way, maybe he would have been distracted, but maybe he would have even invited Erin to come along. Then Chardonnay could see how well he was doing for himself and she would have been pissed, probably, and maybe insulted Erin but he had a feeling Erin could dish it right back. But then he and his college enemy wouldn’t be fucking – then he wouldn’t have cared if she had almost gotten pregnant once. He narrowed his eyes at her comment about Erin’s gender, too – Jason had clearly stated she was a girl and did Chardonnay even know he wasn’t straight? No, she probably didn’t. Not that she had ever bothered to ask him. He scoffed at her.

”What about Erin?! I can see whoever I want to, like you said, we're not committed to one another! You’re not the only person who finds me attractive!” He spat, emphasizing person rather than woman, and though he was only saying that to rile her up like she was riling him up, he knew he still struggled believing that anyone could find him attractive. But under her gaze he felt sexy, attractive, and right now she was just making him feel shittier by the minute for feeling confident when he was around her. ”For your information, Princess, I went on dates with Erin when you fucking ignored me for three months! You couldn’t have even bothered to text me and tell me you were calling this off, could you?! No, you were too busy with your restaurant and family and apparently fucking some other dude who almost got you pregnant!” He clenched his fists even tighter, feeling the strain of his skin on his knuckles. ”And it’s all your goddamn fault Erin and I never worked out anyway so I don't want to hear any bullshit you might want to spew about her!”

Arthur hadn’t wanted this conversation to get so personal. He didn’t want to get personal anything when it came to Chardonnay. She and he were fuckbuddies, nothing more, and the fact that these things were bothering each other wasn’t something he expected to happen. He came to Chardonnay to feel good. He was used to coming here for sexual release, to fuck her until he forgot about whatever it was that stressed him out over the week. And he thought for her it was the same story. He still felt frustrated that she was seeing someone else, someone who he didn’t know, someone who could have a million STDs and shit that he was contracting every time he fucked Chardonnay. But he knew that wasn’t true. Chardonnay wouldn’t have sex with just anybody – she would have to know they were clean first. She wasn’t the type to just make a mistake and have sex like that... though he wondered if she considered him a mistake. Now that was a thought that made him want to leave, and he took a step back.

But he was still mad at her, mad for her bringing up Erin, mad that she brought that up when she had been completely MIA for months. What, so she was allowed to go off and hook up with other people, but he wasn’t?! His anger started to increase when she asked him how this was her fault and he glared at her, looking at her eyes, hating that she was making his emotions do some kind of stupid bullshit rollercoaster. This was Chardonnay. She shouldn’t be driving him this fucking insane – he hated her! He still did! He was attracted to her, sure, but he definitely hated her. Or, well, maybe he didn’t hate her as much as he tried to insist or as much as she hated him. He hated that when she said she’d been scared every night over those three months (basically confirming that was when she’d suffered through the scare) he felt guilty. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault. It was her fault for sleeping with some guy who probably didn’t have condoms. She probably wanted him so much she didn’t even ask if he had any condoms before she spread her legs for him. He clenched his jaw.

He was such a fucking joke for not being able to move onto Erin, and she knew it. He knew she did. He could have called this off whenever, and he hated, he fucking hated that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

”Don’t fucking give me that! You were scared, well, so what?! You didn’t tell me about it so how the fuck was I supposed to know?! You could have called me, but you didn’t, you could have told me, but you didn’t! Don’t pin this on me! I texted you and you didn’t even reply! How was I supposed to know you thought you were pregnant?! I thought you were sick of me!” He spat. ”Those three months weren’t easy for me, either! My sister was in the hospital, but it’s not like you would have cared, would you?! But I could have used a distraction, and you couldn’t even tell me why! You just left me fucking hanging! So don’t act like you were the only one who had a bad few months! You could have told me! I wouldn’t have left you alone to deal with it!”

He was so fucking done with this argument already. He grit his teeth together.

”Oh, fuck you! The reason we never worked out was entirely you, because even when she was kissing me you were the only fucking thing on my mind! Because you never gave me closure, because all I could think about was what I would do if you texted me again! You shouldn’t have ever kissed me – you shouldn’t have ever fucked me! If you hadn’t, I’d have a girlfriend right now!

He still couldn’t imagine it. Chardonnay going through a pregnancy scare, and not telling him, and not bitching him out for it. He hated that she hadn’t told him. She hadn’t called him up and told him that she might be pregnant, that he might be a father, and that this whole fuckbuddy relationship they had with one another might have resulted in the most expensive mistake imaginable. But then he remembered her comments, ”why the fuck are you so convinced that even if I had gotten pregnant that it would have been yours”. It made his throat tremble, to think that this pregnancy scare would have been with someone else. If it was then that made perfect sense for why she wouldn’t tell him – he wouldn’t be involved. He’d just be a fuckbuddy who she didn’t fuck around with anymore. He didn’t matter to her and he knew that. She hated him and just thought he was attractive, so she let him get her off, when she didn’t have anyone better to fool around with. She didn’t trust him.

He could still remember when she had that nightmare – the way she hadn’t said that she gave him any trust back. He had blown it off afterwards... it didn’t matter that much to him then. But this just seemed further evidence of that lack of trust she had. Maybe he’d deluded himself into thinking that every time she texted him to tell him she got home safe, she felt a little better. Maybe he’d tricked himself into think she actually did that because she didn’t mind him caring, and helping. In reality she’d probably only agreed to do that to shut him up and get him to leave. She wouldn’t have told him about a pregnancy scare because she didn’t trust him to help her through anything – she was so convinced that she could do it alone and she had. She hadn’t told him, and then she wasn’t pregnant, she hadn’t needed or wanted any of his help, and he didn’t matter to her at all. He hated how guilty he felt. He shouldn’t feel guilty. This was all Chardonnay’s fucking fault. She hadn’t told him so he hated that now all he could picture in his head was her terrified face as she stared at some pregnancy test, losing sleep over it, and maybe even crying over it when he had been minding his own business thinking she was done with him. He hated picturing her like that and he hated even more that she wouldn’t have let him help.

”And who the fuck said I would have called you an idiot?! A pregnancy scare isn’t something I would have laughed at you about! But you don’t even care about what I would have done because what the fuck does it matter?! You don’t trust me with anything! You never have!” He spat back at her and he hated that when she called him pathetic it hurt him. It made his throat clench and his eyes warm before he blinked it away. She’d called him pathetic before, when they were young, hadn’t she? But he always brushed it off because she was just some spoiled princess who didn’t care about him. She didn’t know him and she was just daddy’s little princess. But for some reason now her words, her words that echoed his own thoughts about himself, stung. He opened his mouth to retort, to tell her he wouldn’t have come all the way up to her stupid restaurant just to get closure, that it was her fault for not responding, but he couldn’t form words. Much like when he was nervous before a presentation, or flustered, he seemed to forget how words worked. He was so pathetic, wasn’t he, just waiting on her text? He was pathetic for not getting into a relationship with Erin when Chardonnay was busy with some other guy. She wouldn’t have cared if he got into a relationship, he could have just called it off. She would have scoffed, said the girl had made a mistake in dating him, and then forgot all about him as she let Chad pleasure her instead. She’d mentioned, once, that he had come to her restaurant. Maybe that was when those two started?

Despite his long tirade of thoughts, all that came out of his mouth was a choked sound as he blinked, rapidly, getting the warmth out of his eyes because he was definitely not trying to let on to her how much this argument was affecting him. He closed his mouth and just stared at her. For once, she had rendered him speechless.

Her words used to bounce right off of him, but now they cut him. When the fuck had Chardonnay gotten the power to hurt him like this? He didn’t know when and he didn’t know why but he wished he could travel back to the past and stop himself from ever giving her this much power over his emotions. When she snapped at him to go find Erin he grit his teeth. Part of him wanted to insist that he didn’t actually enjoy kissing her at all – that he was just lonely at the time, way too lonely, and let things with her go farther than he should have. Erin would never want to date him after that and he didn’t blame her. It was his fault for getting too attached to Chardonnay’s touch and kisses. Her snapped comment, ”I don’t care”, stung him way more than he wanted it to. He knew she didn’t care! He always knew it! So why was it that hearing her say it, so angrily, made his arms shake and his eyes warm again? He blinked the feeling away and turned away from her, unable to look at her anymore.

”You know what?! Fucking fine! Maybe I will go date her! At least she fucking trusts me! At least she would tell me if something like that happened! At least she would know if it was mine!” He spat. He grabbed his bag off of the floor, where she'd kicked it out into the hall, and swung it over his shoulder, and finally returned his glare to her. ”Have a nice fucking life!”

He was conscious of everything happening around him when he stepped into the hallway outside her door. It almost seemed louder out here, with the elevator doors behind him. The sounds of their argument must have been echoing off of them. He could have rolled his eyes at Chardonnay’s muttered comment. He could have gone on a tangent about how he wasn’t looking for anything but some kind of respect, some kind of trust from her. They’d fucked. She’d seen him naked, he’d seen her naked, and they had to trust each other because of that right? At least a little? He’d trusted her with that, with his body, the first time he’d agreed to sleep with her. He knew he was nervous and scared but in that moment he felt wanted, like she was desperate for him, and who was he to tell her no, then? He knew he could have, he felt he could have, but he just didn’t want to. Did she feel the same kind of trust for him?

No. She couldn’t have. She was so confident – she was so God damn hot – why would she have to have trust to have sex with him? All she needed to know was that he used a condom and that he wasn’t carrying any diseases. The first time he’d admitted he trusted her, she hadn’t looked impressed. She looked irritated, like that wasn’t what she wanted to happen. She was still tired from the nightmare, still human, still half-awake as she slowly came to. He felt foolish, then, for saying that to her. And he felt foolish now for getting angry about that because who said their arrangement involved exclusiveness? Who said this arrangement involved trust? Why was he making up all of these perimeters? They hadn’t determined anything. They became fuckbuddies when she came over the third time and laughed at him, and he suggested a next time, and she agreed. Nowhere did they say that it was just them. They just agreed that if one of them got into a relationship, this was over. This thing they had, it would be over. But he was so dumb for not focusing on finding a relationship. He could have called this off a long time ago. He should have called this off a long time ago.

He could have done without her last shouted comments. He was still glaring at her as she said everything, looking right at him as she told him he was worthless. That he was nothing, that he would never amount to anything, and suddenly he felt 12 again and expected her to shove him and start throwing punches. But instead she said she didn’t need him and slammed the door in his face and maybe he wished she’d punched him. He stared, dumbstruck, at the door as he suddenly felt shitty. The shittiest he’d felt in a long time. He was too hurt by what she said to even register the crack in her voice. His knees felt weak but he turned around anyway, swung the bag over his shoulder, stiffened his jaw, and slammed his hand on the stupid call button so hard it hurt.

They were over. Whatever they had between the two of them was fucking done. He knew he should have stopped this a long time ago. He wouldn’t ever talk to Chardonnay again. He wouldn’t ever come to this stupid condo that he didn’t fit in at ever again. He wouldn’t ever text her and he wouldn’t ever worry about her either. It wasn’t like she needed him to. She had her entire future planned out for herself. She was going to run her restaurant and be successful and he’d never hear from her again. He’d never kiss her again. She wasn’t going to just turn up on his doorstep with a box of condoms and shove him back towards his room. She didn’t want to stay at his apartment anymore because of his neighbors and so he knew she’d never come over. They wouldn’t ever have another project together. There was no one to set them up. Now he knew better than to go anywhere with his boss that involved Thomas. There wouldn’t be any more incidents like dinner. Chardonnay didn’t need him in her life and like he was going to, she would avoid him. He knew that.

The elevator descended and opened on the lobby floor and Arthur didn’t even bother to fix his shirt, which was still disheveled. His hair was a mess, his top was wrinkled, and by the time he got into his car and looked at himself in the mirror he realized just how bad it had gotten. His eyes looked tired, and sad, as he stared at himself and didn’t even bother to adjust how he looked. He just exhaled and put his keys into the ignition.

He would never come up here again. He would never hear Chardonnay’s voice again. All he could hear in his head was her shouting that he was nothing. That he would never be anything. It was on a constant loop in his head, and he blinked, but the warmth didn’t go away. He swore to himself as he started the car and hit the gas too hard, speeding out of the parking lot and back onto the highway that he knew he could see from Chardonnay’s place what he stayed there. But he was so far away from it that it didn’t matter. He was just an ant to her, an ant that she was done with, an ant that would never actually amount to anything.

He didn’t remember the ride home. He knew that he sped too much – he almost ran a stoplight and slammed into another car – and by the time he reached Salem again he could barely see and was blinking so fiercely his eyelashes might as well have been windshield wipers. But they weren’t working. He didn’t drive to his apartment – instead, he pulled into his sister’s complex and got out of his car. He left his bag on the backseat floor.

Arthur unlocked her door and stepped inside. It was quiet. Adelaide was spending the weekend at Annabelle’s house, and Susan was probably asleep. It was late, anyway. There was something nostalgic about her apartment to him. It looked no different than it had when they moved here. Arthur flopped down on the couch and stared at nothing. For the past hour, the entire ride home, all he was thinking about was the look on Chardonnay’s face as she screamed those things at him. He didn’t even turn on the light. He intended to just sleep on the couch, because even though he didn’t want to wake Susan up, he just couldn’t be alone.

But he didn’t have to. Susan emerged from her bedroom wrapped up in a pink robe, complete with a bedhead and a confused expression. She didn’t look terribly worried at first – knowing the only other person with a key to her place was Arthur – and she looked like she wanted to ask why he was there so late until she saw the look on his face. Immediately her confusion turned to concern and she walked over to the couch, briskly, and took a seat beside him. She didn’t even need to ask him what was wrong, all she did was wrap her arms around him and pull him into a tight hug. He smelled like perfume, and his clothes were a disheveled mess. Susan didn’t ask him about it, though, because hearing her brother start crying on her shoulder was answer enough for any questions she had. She rubbed his back and hummed a tune that she used to hum to him when he was upset as a child. It was terribly off-key and Susan had a hard time carrying a melody, but she heard a half-hearted attempt at a ‘thank you’ come from her brother.

God, he hated himself in that moment. He hated that he woke Susan up. She’d been working all day, she needed sleep. He hated himself for being so upset by Chardonnay’s words. She was a spoiled princess. What she said to him didn’t matter. She’d said worse to him when they were in school together! He wished he’d never met her. No, he just wished he’d never fucked her. That when she kissed him after their project he shoved her away and wiped his lips. Sure, she would have probably gone to his kitchen to find knives to kill him with, but he wouldn’t have slept with her. He wouldn’t have given her his virginity. He wouldn’t feel this stupid attachment to her that she obviously didn’t reciprocate. It was only because she was his first. That had to be it. She was his first kiss, his first time, his first... his first everything, when it boiled down to it. And he knew himself – he had just gotten attached to the idea that for her... that for her, it was only him. Just like how for him, it was only her.

Wasn’t he just proving her points right now? Inconveniencing Susan, fucking crying because of her, that stupid spoiled princess, all because he believed her when she said he was nothing? Where the hell was all his confidence in his business skills? He knew she was wrong, that he ran the business well in his boss’ steed, and that he would be a good owner someday. God, the him from High School would have snorted at this. Even the him from college would have rolled his eyes. Like hell he ever thought he’d care enough about her opinion to get upset over it. She’d said worse to him in the forest when they first met. But why did it sting so hard to hear now? Why? He hated it. He hated. He hated her so fucking much.

Arthur spent that night at his sister’s apartment, and he wound up falling asleep leaning with his head on her shoulder, his body crashing from exhaustion. She wasn’t strong enough to lift him to the bed so Susan stretched him out on her couch and grabbed a blanket from her backroom and tucked it over him. When he woke up the next morning Susan was in the kitchen, banging pots as she attempted to make pancakes. He sat up on the couch and rubbed his forehead, glancing into the little window as his sister carefully measured a cup of flour. He ate breakfast with her – the end result was a little charred, but not that bad all things considered – and it was when they were cleaning up that she brought up last night.

He fell silent at that and continued to wash the dishes. How could he explain what happened? No doubt Susan had smelt perfume on him, seen the disarray he was in... but then when he tried to think of an excuse her face popped into his head again. But this time it wasn’t her angry face, it was the way she’d looked at him after that time, after he ignored him for months, when she had stormed into his apartment and had sex with him again. She was smirking but it wasn’t a sneaky smirk – he remembered grinning over at her, and the way her lip pulled up when he admitted that he missed the sex between them. His bottom lip was trembling and he didn’t realize he was about to lose it again until his sister put her hand on his shoulder and said it was fine, he could tell her later. Even though she was a child at times, Susan could be mature, especially when it came to things like this. He knew she knew he had been with a woman, but she wasn’t prying because she knew what it felt like to be torn up over someone. She’d used her brother for comfort, and she had known it was only a matter of time before he needed the same sort of comfort from her.

Arthur didn’t think he was in love with Chardonnay – he couldn’t be, not with her – but she had been a regular part of his life until now. For years, years they’d been fucking. What was he going to do on the weekends? Go to the bar with Maxine? Find... find a steady girlfriend? He thought about Erin, but no. He wouldn’t date her. They were just friends now and she had moved on completely, and he wasn’t going to string her along. As much as he hated to admit it, if she didn’t take his mind off of Chardonnay the first time, she sure as hell wasn’t going to do so now.

The next week was the hardest for Arthur to get through, because even though he was thinking about the words she’d said to him right before he left, he found himself looking at her name in his recent contacts list. She didn’t text him to tell him she was home safe. He didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t worried about her. Fuck her. She didn’t care about him so why the fuck should he care about her? But for some stupid reason he waited, every night, for the stupid text that never came. He wanted to delete her number. He almost did. But he never did.

Instead he distracted himself with other things. Work was actually going really well, and he tried not to think about the way Chardonnay had said his business would fail and that he would do nothing for it. Jason gave him compliments on his inputs, and he was allowed to run the place on his own more, but there was still a nagging fear in the back in his mind that nothing he was doing was right. Occasionally he did make a mistake, and for some reason those mistakes kept wearing him down, stressing him out, and killing his entire day. He spent more time smoking that he usually did when he messed something up, usually just taking his laptop outside to his balcony to watch some shows with his ash tray nearby.

He realized he was sinking down into a major depressive slump, and he needed to fix that. Immediately.

He forced himself to go over to Susan’s place every weekend. It was odd and he hoped he wasn’t bothering Susan, but come to find out, she actually really appreciated it. Adelaide was a real handful now – her tenth birthday was coming up soon – and she wanted to do everything and anything on the weekends while Susan wanted to sleep in. So Arthur wound up taking Adelaide all around California to do things. Sometimes it was going to the movies (for free, Adelaide thought with a grin) and other times they took a long drive. One time Adelaide wanted to see the coast so he took her to a big bridge that overlooked the ocean and she stood there with one hand on her hip, her eyes wide as she turned to her uncle and exclaimed that next time they should go to the beach. She might have gotten her father’s long legs and facial structure, but that smile was one hundred percent Susan. He grinned back at his niece and promised her sure, they’d go to the beach next time.

He stopped thinking about Chardonnay as much as time went on. He wound up trying to date around – not with Erin, though they still talked, he didn’t want anything romantic there – but unfortunately, he always met with disastrous results. He downloaded Tinder and first of all, he was so awkward and striking up a conversation on the app that failed. He went on two dates from the website, and they both creeped him out. They jumped right into the flirtations and it made him completely uncomfortable. He deleted the app and tried, then, to actually try to talk to the girls at the bars he went to with Maxine. Most of them made him too uncomfortable, too. One of the girls had actually kissed him while they were getting to know each other and it was miserable – she slobbered more than a dog. He decided to stop trying after that.

By then two months had passed and he was used to not getting any texts from spoiled princess. He blamed the way she got onto his thoughts sometime with the fact he must be missing sex. Which was a reasonable assumption except... not really. He didn’t find himself missing sex all that much. He missed being touched by her and sure, trying to get off by himself was harder (especially when she kept popping into his head) but he didn’t actually do it that often.

Jason was nowhere close to retiring, he kept saying. Arthur was going to have to keep working under him for a long time! Though about two and a half months after the dinner, Jason found it harder to stay for the full day. He tried to, but usually he had to go home early. That usually left Arthur in complete control, more days of the week, and though he got a lot of sass from one of the new managers (his name was Christian and he looked too much like Chad for Arthur to like him at all) he controlled the staff pretty well. Jasmin was still there (though Arthur had no idea why she hadn’t moved to a better position) and she was pretty good at putting Christian in his place. At one point, Jason had invited Arthur and her to another dinner. Arthur managed to make an excuse this time, but Jasmin went instead. He didn’t know if it was with the Nicholas’, but he wasn’t taking any chances on seeing that spoiled brat ever again.

Another month passed by and Arthur fell back into his routine. He didn’t have a girlfriend, or a fuckbuddy, but that was fine. Jason was coming to the theater less and less and, if he was being honest, it concerned Arthur. Jason usually would come down even if he was sick (resulting in him needing to be sent home) but he just couldn’t get out of bed lately. Arthur wound up going to Jason’s house one evening after work to find the older man limping around his apartment. He liked to act like everything was fine, but Arthur didn’t believe him. He said it was a bad hip and Arthur didn’t pry. He just went out to the store for Jason since he had a hard time driving now, and ran the theater in his steed. Occasionally, he wound up working on a Monday if Jason called him and asked him to go in. Sometimes, it was fine just leaving Jasmin there, but if there were shipments coming in, Jason wanted Arthur go to there and sign off on the papers rather than making Jasmin do all of that.

So it was today, on a Monday, that Arthur was at the theater in Salem. The floor itself was limnonym on the main entrance path, and it faded to carpet after the concessions. It was up-to-date with screens and ads all over the walls, which were a soft green, accented with leaves and new paint from two years ago or so. The place wasn’t terribly crowded, a few people loitered by the arcade and bathrooms, but almost all of the customers were in their theaters right now. It was 1:40 in the afternoon, and the next big showing wasn’t until 2:15. Arthur was in Jason’s office, his elbow on the desk and his fingers threaded into his hair. He was wearing a maroon polo shirt with a name tag on his chest, that said Supervisor across the top. There was a phone beside his desk, one that connected to the front lobby, and the intercom for the whole location one button press away. He was currently doing paperwork that had to get done, paperwork that Jason had been avoiding. And now Arthur could see why – no matter how he looked at this paperwork, it would mean red for the theater. The brand of popcorn they used was going up in a price, and that meant they’d either have to change it up (which he had a feeling the customers would not like) or make due and pay the extra money. Whichever option they chose, it’d suck, just probably in different ways.

At the front of the house, the girl working part-time selling tickets had gone on a 15 minute break. Jasmin took her spot in the booth and was glancing at the computer screen for a few moments while she waited for any customers to come in. Like Arthur, she was wearing a red polo shirt with a nametag – hers said Jasmin, with Manager above it in bold letters. She glanced up from her screen when she heard the door open and saw someone enter.

”Hello, what can I get for you?” She asked, with a friendly smile on her face.

Jasmin watched as the unfamiliar person entered the theater, looking much too overdressed to be here alone, on an afternoon. She wondered if the woman was waiting for someone. But then she approached the stand and spoke, curtly, and immediately Jasmin figured this woman was one of those no-nonsense types that wasn’t planning to linger. She just hoped that this transaction went well.

”Oh? Something for Jason? He’s actually out today, but the supervisor is in the office. You can feel free to bring those to the office and just drop them off – he’ll make sure Jason gets them. Is that the cookbook he was so excited about?” She said, keeping her tone light and friendly. She stood up and leaned around the counter, pointing down the hall towards the concessions stand. ”To find the office, you can go straight forward to concessions and take a left. Its right across from the arcade, the door should be open. Let me just make sure he’s in there for you.”

Jasmin sat back down and picked up the phone in her little booth. She waited, and waited, but it didn’t seem like there was a response. She mumbled to herself, willing Arthur to pick up the phone, but he didn’t. That was odd. He usually picked up right away. Though, by that time, the part-timer returned and looked at Chardonnay, and the books in her hand. She seemed surprised to see her there and there was some recognition on her face. It was short-lived, however, because Jasmin stood up and exited the booth, allowing the part-timer to get to her seat.

”Actually, I’ll just show you. If he’s not in there I’ll have to open the door for you anyway.” She kept the friendly smile on her face as she turned around and headed towards the office, expecting Chardonnay to follow. She reached the door and pushed on it, gently, opening it more. "Mr. Summers, there's someone here to drop something off."

”Oh, don’t worry about it! You can just drop them right on the desk and be on your way. He’s right here. He likes to ignore me when I call him. Right, Mr. Summers?” Jasmin emphasized his name as Arthur came to the door with his eyebrows raised and his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t seem to notice Chardonnay for a second as his coworker laughed at him, and didn’t accept the books from Chardonnay.

”You can still call me Arthur, you know.” He said.

”No, you’re the supervisor now. You get to be Mr. Summers. At least when customers are around.” She said. Arthur looked like he was about to say something – probably that Jason was still Jason, even though he should be Mr. Carmichael by that logic, but then his eyes moved to Jasmin’s side and he froze when he saw Chardonnay standing there with two books in her hands.

He completely drowned out what Jasmin said – which was basically just reiterating what Chardonnay had told her before – and his eyes slowly went from confused to enraged, though he didn’t let his body stiffen like he wanted to. Oh, he wanted to scream at her, and tell her to get the fuck out, and make a huge scene, but he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to swear at her and ask her why the fuck she was here but he could already tell that people were staring at her because she showed up to a theater dressed like she was going to the red carpet.

Of course she still looked good, sexy, but along with that was the knowledge that they wouldn’t be fucking around any longer. They weren’t. Had she changed at all over the past few months? He didn’t know. He didn’t know if she had another fuckbuddy, someone who she liked better. He didn’t know if she even thought about him. The only reason she was here was for that stupid book. That stupid book she’d no doubt been forced to give Jason. He could see her on the cover, smiling and gorgeous and irritating. So fucking irritating. Why did she have to look so well-put together? Why? And why did she show up here? Why didn’t she pay some schmuck to come in here on her behalf? He didn’t want to deal with her, especially not in his theater.

”Give them to me, then.” Arthur said, too coldly, as he held out his hand for the books. This was the woman he’d lost so much sleep over, stressed out over, hurt over, cried over... and she was here. At his theater. The place that he loved, that she no doubt was degrading inside of her mind for every second she was here. His glare and tone of voice were growing angrier the longer he regarded her. ”And then get out.”

Jasmin’s cheery attitude was gone as she took a step back from the two, sensing something there that she didn’t know if she want to know about. She excused herself, then, and went to go help out one of the part-timers in the arcade.

He couldn’t fucking stand her. He was just trying to get her out of here. She obviously didn’t want to be here. She obviously wanted to get out of this theater just as he wanted her out of here! So why the fuck did she think she had any right to raise her voice here?! Arthur’s anger doubled when he heard her swear and saw the concerned looks of customers. He apologized to a mother who looked like she was about to call someone, anyone, to report this incident. He glared towards his office and looked at Chardonnay, almost wincing when she slammed the stupid fucking books onto the desk.

Spoiled fucking brat. He stormed into the office and as much as he wanted to slam the door behind him, he knew he couldn’t. So he closed it gently, and locked it so no curious children could open the door while he was distracted, but that took a lot of his effort because he was completely focused on his suppressed rage. He knew that Jasmin probably heard that, and he knew she’d ask him about it later. But he didn’t have time to focus right now because he wasn’t going to take this shit from her. Not here. She was not fucking up his job.

”Don’t cuss and raise your voice or I’ll call the police on you. This isn’t a place you can spew your mouth off at me.” He snapped. He’d do it, too. He’d call the police and file a complaint about a trespasser. Sure, Jason might write the incident off later because it was his best friend’s daughter, but oh man, would Arthur love to see Chardonnay thrown in jail for even a few hours because of her crap. She’d have no one to blame but herself and Arthur could gloat on the other side of the bars and keep her locked away until Jason or her parents bailed her out. ”I’m not going to disrespect you?! You’re the one who came into my theater, cussing me out. Why the hell are you even here? Whatever we used to be, we’re through now, so just leave the stupid books, and get out, you spoiled brat, you don’t have to go picking a fight with me. Don’t you have any sense of professionalism?”

He put his hands on the desk and glared over at Chardonnay from his side of it. Seriously. Why would she come here? He hated seeing her here. He hated remembering the fight they had, he hated remembering the way that insults from her for some reason actually affected him. He would be prepared for them now, he knew, because he expected them, but how would he know they wouldn’t sting? They might. They might hurt him just as much as they did that night they called this off.

Arthur’s lips turned down into a scowl as she dared him to call the police and threatened to bring the place down. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that she would try, just to piss him off. She never cared about his dreams and ambitions. She never had any respect for them, so she’d have absolutely no qualms about doing that. God, why had he slept with her... someone who didn’t respect him at all? Even though he had low self-esteem he knew he was better than that, than to sleep with someone who treated him so badly, but then... at the time he didn’t think she was treating him that badly. Sure, they fought a lot, they bickered and he called her spoiled and she called him a Jackass, but he was used to it and it didn’t make him angry when he heard her say that after a while. As time went on and they continued fucking, he didn’t feel like she disrespected him. The insults that rolled off of her, while some of them had annoyed him, hadn’t hurt. They were just fuel to want to be aggressive with her in bed – something that while they were fucking around together she seemed to like. But now every word out of her mouth was just evidence why they never would have lasted in the first place.

He ignored the dryness of his throat as he thought about that. They never would have been serious with one another. What, would they just be fucking into their thirties? Was that all they’d do? She didn’t want kids, a family, a boyfriend, and for some reason that made him swallow a lump in his throat. Didn’t matter. He definitely didn’t want that with her and he’d get over the sex he’d had with her. Eventually.

”I dare you. Try. I won’t let you. Not that you understand how much this place means to me, but all you need to know is I’ll die before I let you run it to the ground.” Arthur spat back, not looking away from Chardonnay. Did she think he wouldn’t fight her to keep this place afloat? She really was such a bitch, to threaten that, his job, his dreams, his... she knew that he cared about this place, right? She had to know. She had to. He ignored that his heart was starting to race as she reminded him of their previous relationship – and said she didn’t want it back – and then spat some more venom at him. ”I locked the door so that no one can wander in here and ask me why some spoiled brat is in here screaming at me because she can’t get over herself. And can you blame me for being that hostile?! Do you need a transcript of what you said to me the last time we argued?! Because I can still remember everything you said and the last place I want to see you is my theater! So yeah. I told you to get out. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done that to me if the situations were reversed.”