The Dramatic Spiel of Arthur and Chardonnay~ (7,146 views)

Human decency would have told her to not burn his shirt. He wanted to say that, because obviously he didn’t put on his shirt that it was a gift! He wasn’t going to label his shit. He just wanted something to wear to leave Chardonnay’s place sometime, and that was a shirt that had happened to be there! Or, no... wait. That shirt had to have been from a time he had come over, one she’d practically ripped off of him when they were on their way to her bedroom. He didn’t usually leave her place in plaid, he usually came in it.

”Because it’s just a shirt! I didn’t think there was any problem in me leaving it over there because it wouldn’t be burned while I was busy at work!” He was aware that he was taking too much time right now. He really didn’t want to be out here for this long, feeling the wind brush through his hair and caress his cheek. He saw a family off in the corner of his eye, a mother and her two sons, and he exhaled, trying to compose himself as the woman coaxed her excited boys into entering the theater. If he wasn’t so irritated with Chardonnay, he would have smiled as how the kids bumped into one another in an effort to get through the door first. They were excited to get in, to see whatever children’s movie was playing this week. It wasn’t a sight he usually saw – he usually saw them when they were already inside the theater, buying their concessions and tickets.

He was about to just hang up on Chardonnay and deal with this when he left when he heard some scrambling on the other end of the line, and she winced in pain. And he hated, completely hated, that despite the fact he was pissed off at her he felt worry spread throughout him. She didn’t say anything other than exclamations of pain for a few seconds and he grit his teeth together. She probably scalded herself with fire. What an idiot.

”What happened?” He wanted that to sound angrier than it came out. And he hated that it didn’t come out as angry as he wanted it to, so he added, ”karma’s a bitch. That’s what you get for burning my shirt!”

Despite his anger he listened to the background noises of Chardonnay’s condo as she complained and blamed him. He heard water running so his suspicions were correct – and she was obviously smart enough to apply cold water to the injury. So he alleviated his concern, trusting she had everything under control, and went back to being angry. ”It’s an hour long commute! I don’t want to pack a bag every damn time I come over to your place. I’m 27 years old, not 10. We spend the night at each other’s places so often we might as well just leave shit there! And you let me! You know I wear plaid and you let me leave my shit there! And I didn’t mean to leave that with you – I don’t exactly have control over where you throw my shirt when you’re trying to get it off of me. I couldn’t find it in the morning when I went to leave,” he growled out that last part in a low voice, so that no one could overhear him talking about something that, if he was face-to-face with Chardonnay, he would likely be blushing about. ”The perfume is mostly for your sake. If my sister smelt some expensive perfume – and believe me, she’d smell it – she’d figure out I’m screwing someone, and I don’t associate with any other spoiled brats who wear perfume so expensive it could pay off a mortgage,” he glanced around him, again, no one was around and the theater was pretty dead for the next hour or so. ”for your information I’m outside on a smoke break, so no one’s overhearing me. I wouldn’t shout about this in front of my employees or boss. And you respect my shit? Right. No. You don't. See, your respect and my respect obviously have different definitions. And that’s why I’m very strongly considering calling this arrangement off! If you left perfume or extra shoes here I wouldn’t have burnt them! I’d have been pissed, but I would never burn your shit! Never! But apparently, you don’t have any problem with it!”

He took another drag of his cigarette and glared at the cars driving in the parking lot in the mini-mall the theater was attached to. He could see his own Jeep, parked in his usual spot far away from the building’s entrance. A strong gust of wind blew through and scattered some plastic bags in the lot from one side to the other. The sight made Arthur frown.

”Yeah, I don’t pay attention to where I throw them, but the difference is that I don’t burn them when I find them in my apartment.” He grumbled in response. He didn’t understand why she was so pissed off at him about this. She had no right to complain to him, no right to blame him for this and make excuses. And now he was down a shirt, a shirt that his sister would definitely notice he stopped wearing. What, should he go buy the same set of plaid she’d bought for him, just so that he still had that blue shirt? Or should he tell her some lie similar to the truth, say that it got ruined or ripped and that he had to throw it out? No doubt she’d be upset hearing that – not hat him, but just saddened – and that thought was enough to send another prick of irritation down his body. It was Chardonnay’s fault she’d be upset, and it was her fault the shirt was no longer wearable. And she was just continuing to be bitchy, by trying to blame him for something. He wasn’t overreacting. This wasn’t some innocent April Fools day joke that she had done to be cute. This was something she did to show him he was getting too comfortable, that she still hated him and everything he loved and he was almost starting to forget that. He was almost starting to really look forward to seeing her, and spending time with her, and getting comfortable with her. But now... he felt the uncomfortableness coming back up, rising like a mountain between them.

”You’re not even sorry! You’re not even sorry that you destroyed my property and that it pissed me off to see that so how the fuck is it my fault to want to hear you apologize?! You’re the petty one here, burning my shirt just because it’s plaid! Just because of the material! You’re not my girlfriend and you’re just – just a fuckbuddy! So if you piss me off by doing something like this, when it’s not worth fooling around anymore, when you don’t give me the respect I give your spoiled ass, then – then we’re over!” She didn’t get it. She never would. He groaned and brought the cigarette back up to his lips.

And then she started to get on his case about smoking, and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t smoke that much! The fact he was taking a smoke break at all during work was odd itself – he usually saved his cigarette a day for when he was out on his patio at night, or in the afternoon, just trying to relax. He took another drag of the cigarette and then scoffed at her words, a column of smoke billowing out of his mouth like he was a dragon.

”The reason I came out here to smoke was because I opened my phone to a text of my shirt on fire! Because this – because you – are stressing me out! You’re not doing my any favors by destroying my shirt – and that makes no sense anyway! How the fuck would me smoking relate to you destroying my property at all?! No, fuck you! Maybe I will end this! Maybe I’ll come over to your condo tonight to get my shit and then leave if you can’t get over yourself enough to apologize for something the police would arrest you for!”

He wanted to be the one to hang up on her. He wanted to slam the phone shut and ignore any texts she sent him afterwards. He wanted to hear her trying to call or text him throughout his shift, to the point that it got so annoying that he had to turn the damn thing off. But instead he found himself getting more and more irritated. Though the desire to turn off the phone and officially call this thing they had going off grew stronger with every passing second, he just was waiting for the right time. The right opportunity. She went off on him about how she cleaned his shit and she might do that, but at the same time, she was the one who destroyed his shirt. She was the one who irritated him here. But before he could snap back a rebuttal he heard the click of the phone and his heart started to pound faster. He pulled it away from his ear and saw the log of their 20 minute conversation.

She hung up on him.

Arthur tried not to think that it bothered him. He was used to her being a spoiled, entitled brat, who didn’t care about anything or anyone. He was just mad that she had destroyed something, he was furious, he was... betrayed. Hurt, even, just a little bit. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at the phone, blinking, barely noticing the door opening as Jasmin stepped out into the sunlight. She asked him, teasingly, what took so long. She liked to taunt him by using a formal title rather than his name like she used to, never letting him forget that though they’d been hired as managers at the same time, he was now the supervisor and she was now under him. And it didn’t take Arthur much time to snap back to reality and pocket his phone. He didn’t go into detail about who he’d called but took another cigarette with Jasmin offered it. As he reached out for the second one his arm was shaking, like it did when he was exhausted, but the second he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it up he felt his body ease up. The tension there from his conversation with Chardonnay faded to memory as he got ready to finish work.

That evening he was more irritable than he wanted to be, despite two cigarettes. He lost his temper quicker, and though she didn’t cry, he could tell one of the part-timers was growing scared of it. So he asked Jasmin to handle closing today, to check the part-timers out of their stations while Arthur went to help Jason in the back. As much as he hated not helping he didn’t need to snap... and he could tell he was already dangerously close to doing so. Who the hell burned a shirt, just because they didn’t like plaid? Who besides Chardonnay? She was so entitled. Such a fucking bitch, really. Why was he screwing her?

As he shifted through the papers on his desk he remembered the one and only time Chardonnay had been here. She was angry, delivered her cookbooks, and asked him why he screwed around with her. His retort was that she was hot. He remembered saying it and, for a while, he believed that was true. He liked screwing her because she was aesthetically pleasing even though she was too extravagant. She had a nice body and he liked the way his hands felt on her hips, on her back, the way their lips fit together and the way he fit inside of her. But... he didn’t know. He leaned one elbow on the desk and ran his fingers through his hair, squeezing it. He didn’t know if it was only because of her body. He’d seen many women with her hourglass figure in his life. And, sure, he might have found them attractive but he never wanted to sleep with anyone. Not until she kissed him on his couch, anyway. Not until she came along and for some reason he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, curious to see what sounds he could elicit from her mouth, curious how his name, which she so rarely said before, would sound from her voice. Just her body. But he’d admitted it wasn’t that. When they made up months ago, he admitted he didn’t just want her for her body.

So why the fuck did he want her? Why did he want someone who would stoop so low as to burn his shirt, and his trust along with it? She made him feel comfortable, despite how she could rile him up. She made him feel desirable and confident and comfortable but at the same time she challenged him and as much as she got under his skin, he didn’t want to give her up – no – he didn’t want to give this arrangement they had up.

Why was it so impossible for her to apologize, though? What the fuck... what the fuck was her problem?

The duration of his shift, Arthur spent staring at his phone, waiting for Chardonnay to call or text him. But she never did. The hours passed by and eventually it was 1. He glanced at his watch. Then eh glanced at his phone. He knew Chardonnay would be getting out of work soon, so he picked it up and sent her a message.

I’m coming over.

Not a question. A statement. He was coming over to get his shit, to... get mad at her. He ignored the stab of anxiety that message gave him, that she wouldn’t even care, and just left work after locking up. He told Jason he had to go somewhere, so before he drove his boss home he went to his apartment and grabbed his bag. But it was then that he had an idea, looking at the plaid patch he’d had Erin sew onto it one time as payment for him driving her somewhere. He had extra.

It was red, plaid, and small. He picked up one, examined it, and slipped it inside of his pocket. He knew this whole conversation would go sour fast, so he went into his room and grabbed his glasses, putting them on his face to hide it. He never wore them to Chardonnay’s place. He got out of his work uniform and grabbed a blue tee shirt and threw it on underneath a NEW YORK hoodie, then headed downstairs to where Jason waited in the car. When he inquired about where Arthur was going he said he was meeting a friend, and Jason wiggled his eyebrows but Arthur didn’t entertain him. Sensing the mood was sour, Jason hummed and looked out the window. He was dropped off a half hour later, and then Arthur hit the highway again, running a half hour later than he usually did to get to Chardonnay’s place. Dropping off his boss had taken longer than he thought it would, and it wasn’t like Chardonnay would care anyway. She hadn’t bothered to tell him when she was going to be late that one time, so he figured why should he? It definitely wouldn’t bother her, especially given the reason he was going over wasn’t to screw.

He got to her apartment complex and got out, grabbing his bag from the backseat. Was... he really doing this? God, he hated how unsure he felt. He walked into the condo complex and took the lift up, trying to calm down his heart. He was mad. He was mad she burnt his shirt. He was going to yell her goddamn ear off when she opened this door!

He got out of the elevator and, anger restored, he pounded on the door.

”Let me in.” He snapped, though he was conscious, in the back of his mind, of the small square of plaid he still had shoved into his pocket. He adjusted the fake glasses on his nose to hide his face better.

Arthur was waiting outside of her condo for way too long. Maybe she’d fallen asleep instead. Maybe she had just decided that he didn’t matter, that he wasn’t coming over didn’t matter, and that she was just going to go to sleep and make him drive out here for nothing. She hadn’t texted him back. Maybe she wasn’t even here. The thought sent another twinge of irritation through him. What the fuck was her problem if she wasn’t even the least bit concerned about this? About him coming to get his crap, about him... cutting this off completely.

Maybe he’d been deluding himself when he thought that Chardonnay would miss him if he called this off. That, maybe, when she heard him say he was serious about calling this off that she’d actually... regret what she’d done. But she didn’t. If she showed any sign of remorse about burning his shirt, ruining his property, maybe he wouldn’t feel like he had to do this. But... if he didn’t do this, if he just ignored Chardonnay doing this and continued to fuck around with her, then... then she’d just do it again. And he didn’t mind when she took control over him in the bedroom, he didn’t mind listening to her requests and demands when they were reasonable – but he was not going to let her walk all over him. Not if she was going to pull this shit.

The door finally opened and Arthur had his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt, his bag draped across one shoulder, and his lips tilted down into a frown as he was greeted with the sight of Chardonnay. She looked... comfortable, he guessed, and he gave her body a once-over before he forced his eyes to stay focused on her face, not letting them linger on her cleavage. His first instinct was to lean down and kiss her, and tear the sweatshirt off of her, but he wasn’t here for that. Funny... he rarely came here for anything other than sex. And maybe... well, maybe this would be the last time he’d be here.

When she commented on his appearance he rolled his eyes, expecting her to move to the side, but she didn’t. He took a step closer, taking one of his arms out of the pocket of his sweatshirt to lean on the doorframe. When he was this close to her he was usually kissing her, with his eyes closed, so he didn’t get a chance to notice the flickering colors in her eyes. But now he could.

”Fuck you. Your shitty sense of humor is the reason I’m here.” Even though he didn’t want to call this off he was pretty good at faking like he did, faking it just to see what kind of a reaction he’d get from Chardonnay. As much as he didn’t want to call this off he wasn’t as... emotional as he had been the night he’d come to pick her up in the storm. That had been a time he was there for her but she... god, she burned his shirt. But who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t have an effect on her besides annoyance and, maybe, lust. His eyes narrowed dangerously as her little grimace... she was probably just grimacing at the memory of her injury. Which, unconsciously, he tried to find on her body. But he failed in that endeavor and assumed she must be fine if she was standing there in front of him, so he continued. ”Let me get my crap, Princess. You’re blocking the doorway.”

He couldn’t read her mind. Sometimes, Arthur jut wished he could read her mind and figure out what the fuck was going on in there. Actually he wished he could do that pretty much all the time. What had she been thinking about when she burned his shirt and sent him the picture? Was she trying to rile him up? Did she think that he’d be pissed, pissed like when they were trying to rile one another up for a second round of sex, and want her? She really had no idea how he worked if that was the case, didn’t she?

He was still looking at her face, even as she looked away. There was something there, he thought. Hidden in her shifting eyes and trembling lips, there was something. But when she finally spoke, he exhaled in defeat. He wasn’t going to coax it out of her. If there was something there then she’d have to grow up and say it, if she didn’t want this to end, she had to say it. Because he wasn’t going to change his mind because what would that say about him? If he kept hooking up with her like this, he was saying it was okay if she destroyed his shit without regretting it. He was slowly beginning to lose hope that she actually regret what she’d done, and that made his desire to keep this going begin to dwindle. He’d miss her, but if she couldn’t respect his property... he knew he shouldn’t have left the plaid over, but it was an honest mistake. He would have picked it up later, and taken it home, away from her. But now he was down a shirt and she didn’t even regret it.

When she finally moved, he snorted, and straightened up.

”Yeah, it is. You thought burning my property while I was at work would be funny.” He snapped, ”And it’s not a hissy fit. That’s the exact reason I’m so angry! You’re just getting pissed off at me for getting angry you destroyed my shirt! Jesus fucking Christ, you suck, you’re so selfish. You can’t think of anyone but yourself and how they might react to things – except, maybe, your parents. You offering to get me a new shirt does shit. The reason I’m mad is – you – fuck. You wouldn’t even try to understand it, anyway.”

He didn’t get her. At all. And he hated that. He went through her condo, navigated the familiar path to get to her bedroom, and stared over at her bed for a second. He wasn’t spoiled, and he knew he’d be fine, but fuck would he miss that bed. He’d miss falling asleep with Chardonnay after a round of sex, and waking up to see either Chardonnay’s form sleeping beside him or the gorgeous view of the city twinkling in the sunlight back at him. He sighed and went to his drawer, and opened it, swinging his backpack around to his knee. He shifted through his things and noticed they were folded and clean and bit down on his lower lip. He knew she had done that for him, but then, that didn’t make up for his shirt. He kept the shirts folded as he put them into his bag, not even sure of Chardonnay had followed him into the bedroom. He muttered something underneath his breath to himself, complaining about how selfish she was again, probably, as he finished putting his shirts away. Fortunately he hadn’t left any plaid boxers here, he noted, as he looked at his underwear located beside his pants in the drawer. The thought of Chardonnay doing his laundry, folding his underwear, made him flush and angry at the same time, but he guessed he appreciated it. If he wasn’t so mad at her. Almost angrily he shoved those pieces of clothing into his bag.

Arthur continued to shove all of this crap into his bag, his annoyance growing more and more with every object he shoved inside. Who the hell did Chardonnay think she was? She wasn’t even saying anything in response to his accusations. She didn’t care, she didn’t care and that was what pissed him off the most. She wasn’t making any effort to understand him and she never would. Whatever.

But then she actually did come, stopping in the doorway of her bedroom, and spoke up. Arthur paused packing and turned to look at her, brows raised, not looking very impressed. This wasn’t done to be funny, huh? That was a load of bullshit. She wouldn’t have had any other motives besides pissing him off. He didn’t expect to be affected by whatever she said... maybe he’d get angry, but not really affected. But he was... surprised when she actually struggled to say something. He was surprised enough that he let his knee fall and his bag thudded onto his hip. He stared at her as she stuttered out some kind of an excuse.

So she didn’t want to get close to him? That was what this was about? She was pushing him away by burning his crap? He couldn’t say he really understood it, what she was so scared of. But at the same time, if she was scared of something it... it was him. He was an asshole, and she was ashamed to be in any kind of relationship with him, still. That thought was enough to make his throat hurt and force him to look away from Chardonnay as he adjusted his glasses again, thankful he’d brought them to hide behind. He was the only one who got any comfort out of this arrangement, wasn’t he?

God, he felt so stupid for thinking that everything was fine. For trusting her, for thinking that maybe she was as happy about it as he was. She still hated him. She still thought this was weird and this whole arrangement had to be kept under lock and he didn’t know how to feel about her admission. She was being honest and maybe she didn’t want to stop fooling around but... he didn’t know. Hearing that hurt him, a lot more than he wanted to admit to her. He felt stupid for being hurt by it, too. He knew how she felt about getting close and about her personal space. He just... didn’t know. It stung.

He couldn’t look at her – even though she wasn’t looking at him – and he turned around to face the mostly empty drawer and stare at his jeans still hanging out in there. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and frowned.

”...I trusted you. I don’t know why you hate it so much, but I trusted you, and you destroyed something of mine. That’s why I’m mad. You betrayed that trust. All because of some... what? We’re not that close. It’s just for conveniences’ sake that we’re doing this. Because we live so far from each other, it’s pointless to keep lugging bags, especially if we see each other once a week.” When she implied he never wanted to keep screwing her in the first place he almost started growling. What the fuck? How did she get off saying that! Of course he did! ”If I didn’t want to keep screwing you, I wouldn’t have ever gotten mad in the first place! I wouldn’t have cared but oops, I did! The fact that you treated me like shit when I went out of my way for you wouldn’t have mattered! But then you – you wanted to keep this but obviously you’re the one who actually doesn’t!” He looked over to meet her gaze, almost faltered at the serious there, but continued anyway, ”I never wanted to give this up, but I’m just not going to sit back while you walk all over me to feel better about yourself. If this arrangement stresses you out so much, maybe it’s for the best it stops.”

He didn’t know what he expected to hear from her, but to hear her admit that she liked the sex, that it was a stress reliever for her, he... that wasn’t it. He blinked and listened to her as she spoke, not entirely sure what to make of it besides that he, most of the time, felt the same. Sleeping with her was a way to let off stream when he’d had a long and stressful week. When he had a bad day before he came over she always let him take his frustrations out on her, usually dishing it right back, matching the level of aggressiveness he gave her. But then there were nicer moments, too, sometimes on a lazy weekend morning they’d fool around when the both of them woke up. If the aggressive fucking in the evenings was a way to let out stress, their slightly lazy morning sex was a way to give his upcoming week an uplift.

If she felt the same, if their fooling around together gave her a way to reduce her stress levels, then he definitely didn’t want to give this up. As much as he loved the idea of having this as a stress reliever for himself he wanted to help her, too. He loved having that kind of an effect on her and he didn’t look away from her as he bit his lip, feeling his hands go clammy as he had to think. He wanted to hold onto his resolve. He wanted to continue shoving this crap into his bag and just leave but he couldn’t. He saw Chardonnay’s expression squirming uncomfortably, and she admitted he confused her. Well... she confused the fuck out of him. She pissed him off outside of bed, teased him, acted like she was better than him when he knew he wasn’t less than her. Their personalities were too volatile together, and it drove him insane but... he kind of liked it. He looked forward to their arguments. He looked forward to being so irritated with her, so frustrated that he was lost for words so he just grabbed her and kissed her, which usually led them to rolling around in the sheets, and... was that all really going away? He blinked, again.

Would he really be able to just forget about this, though? No. God... she was so... he didn’t know! So... Chardonnay.

”You’re right! You do piss me off! Like now! Like burning my shirt, just because you want to put distance between us, when there’s nothing there anyway! Yeah you piss me off but I don’t try to make you feel like shit! I just say how you’re acting, how you’re treating me! It’s not my fault if you are spoiled! But, yeah, I am nice to you! But you – you just – you burnt my shirt! Do you really hate me that much?! That you won’t suffer just a minor inconvenience to... to just... not make me miserable for the whole shift?” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands. When she said she didn’t understand trust, or that he trusted her, he exhaled and focused on her again. ”Well you don’t really have to worry about that anymore, because it worked. I don’t trust you as much as I did before. You only regret this because it made things inconvenient for you. So I... I don’t know. I don’t know what to do and it pisses me off! You piss me off! And confuse me, too. I don’t get how you work, how you think. I just can’t sleep with someone I don’t trust. That's all there is to it, Princess.”

He blinked, in succession, when she said that she didn’t hate him. Though he knew that was true in the back of his mind her saying it was always... weird. He expected for her to snap that she did hate him or something like that. His bag was still unzipped, and the drawer was still open beside him, but he didn’t move to do anything with either thing. He just shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, looking at Chardonnay as she moved her arms and made the sleeve of her sweater fall down her shoulder slightly. It didn’t look like she was wearing anything underneath it... and he tried not to let himself get distracted by that, though his cheeks started to pepper pink slightly. He wasn’t here to get distracted by her! By anything about her, by... by the fact he might not come here again. He swallowed ad he glanced over at her bed from the corner of his eyes. He remembered the first time he came here... how it’d been years since then. He was as familiar with her condo now as he was with his own apartment.

He rolled his eyes when she said that pissing him off wasn’t the only reason she burnt his shirt. He couldn’t fucking believe this. Why hadn’t she just... apologized to him? She’d admitted she was wrong. That this was stupid, that she was being stupid about this, but she still hadn’t just said the words he wanted to hear: that she was sorry. That she regret doing it. He didn’t know why he expected her to ever apologize. Chardonnay never apologized. But he’d miss sleeping with her. He knew he would, and he’d feel oddly lonesome if they just... stopped.

”I...” Arthur started to say, but just gave up talking and trailed off, shaking his head. ”I don’t know. I’m not just going to blow this off. I’m not, I... how can I be sure you’re not going to do this to me again? The next time you get paranoid, thinking we’re too close or something, what’s going to stop you from destroying all of my clothes just to piss me off? And I really am sick of lugging this stupid bag with me all the time. I’m not in college anymore and this bag’s ripped to hell. So if I think you might do this again then, I guess, I guess we can’t fuck anymore.”

Arthur watched as she adjusted the shoulder of her sweatshirt, hiding away the skin of it that he liked to see. She was uncomfortable, he could tell. So she said she wouldn’t destroy anything of his again and, for the moment, he felt like he could trust that. She didn’t look happy about him wanting to end their screwing around together, and though she wasn’t groveling and apologizing, she wasn’t yelling at him anymore, either. She wasn’t making any more excuses, either.

That didn’t change the fact he was down a shirt, though. And, even if she bought him a new one, she definitely would not be getting him any plaid. He felt the fabric in his jeans again, the small square, and had an idea. She wasn’t going to apologize. He knew that and he didn’t get her stupid rule about plaid – but if she wasn’t going to apologize he was going to pull a prank on her. Sort of like what she’d done to him, except totally harmless. And he wouldn’t burn himself, like he knew Chardonnay had done through overhearing her yelp of pain on the phone. He wondered if she still had the mark, or if it was bad... for a second, he felt bad...

But then he remembered it was all her stupid fault in the first place.

”I won’t leave any plaid clothes over.” he said. And of course he wouldn’t after this. The fuck was he, stupid? He didn’t want her to destroy anything. ”I honestly didn’t mean to leave that shirt here. Like I said, I just couldn’t find it in the morning, and I had to go meet my sister for something right after I left here. So I didn’t have time to look around for it. You and plaid do not mix for some stupid reason.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again but then he hesitantly looked from his bag, back up to Chardonnay, and then over to the drawer. ”...uhm... I... if you’re not going to destroy anything else, then I guess... I guess we don’t have to be done.” When she said she might get paranoid about them again, he looked over at her with a raised brow. ”If you get paranoid, just bring it up to me. I’ll remind you that we’re fuckbuddies. Nothing more, nothing less. You can rely on me if you need it, or want to get off, but that’s it. Even if we’re leaving stuff at each other’s places, it’s only because it’s more convenient that way.”

He propped his bag back up onto his knee and began unpacking the clothes he’d been starting to pack. Maybe he should just bring some of these home, anyway. He was starting tog et too many clothes. All he really needed was his sweats and a change or two of clothes.

As he packed his clothes into the drawer, he heard the little sign that came from Chardonnay. And, despite his anger and irritation with what happened, a smile started to twitch on the corner of his mouth. He was thankful that he wasn’t facing Chardonnay and that she couldn’t see it as she spoke. He snorted at her comment himself.

”Yeah, well, feeling’s mutual.” He grumbled. When she said she was going to go wipe her makeup off and invited him to stay the night he was thankful. And no sex again... it was weird to be here and not having sex. But he supposed he was used to it and besides, he had work in the morning. Though he didn’t have to get in until 11, it took him an hour to get to Salem from here, and he’d have to make a pit stop at his apartment to change into his uniform and get his nametag. So he’d have to be up at 8, maybe 9 at the latest. And it was already pretty late here... if he had sex tonight, which would probably last for a while, he wouldn’t go to bed until even later and then he’d be sluggish (though elated) tomorrow. And as much as he might not mind ending the day with an orgasm to get over how crappy the day had gone, sleeping in her bed would probably feel nice.

As she left, Arthur slipped his hand into his pocket and grabbed the little bit of fabric. He examined the harmless square, and remembered how he’d promised not to leave any plaid clothing here. This wasn’t clothes. And if she wasn’t going to apologize... he smirked to himself and looked around the room.

It couldn’t be somewhere obvious. And, unfortunately, he didn’t have the advantage of being taller than Chardonnay to reach the higher shelves. He frowned – he only had so much time! He quickly tore through the condo away from the bathroom, keeping quiet, until he found a spot in the living room that he knew she wouldn’t notice. There was a zipper in one of the pillows, rather than a binding, and the inside of the pillow looked similar to the texture of the apartment, and he positioned the small scrap of plaid inside. He then took his phone and snapped a photograph of it, making sure it was clearly her condo, and smirked to himself. He wasn’t going to send the photograph yet – he was going to wait until he left. He’d probably send it to her when he was at his apartment getting ready for work. Oh, this was going to be good. Or maybe he’d do it right before he left. He might beat Chardonnay waking up, after all.

Once that was done he fixed the couch and headed back into Chardonnay’s room. He bit his lower lip as he grabbed his sweats from inside the drawer, laying them on the bed. He took off his jeans and then slipped the sweats on over his boxers. He took off the sweatshirt and just kept the plain tee shirt on his torso. If it wasn’t right after sex, he didn’t like to sleep next to Chardonnay shirtless unless he had no choice. He sighed, flopping down on the side of her bed that he usually claimed when he slept over. He opened his phone up to the alarm clock and set it for 7:30.

When he finally heard Chardonnay come back from the bathroom, he was in the middle of stretching his arms and cracking the joints. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, eyes blinking behind the fake glasses.

”I have to get up early tomorrow. I have to go into work, do you want me to wake you up at 7:30 too, or should I just leave?” He almost groaned saying that. He loved his job but probably made a mistake coming up here. But, then, he would have slept angry at Chardonnay. Now he was annoyed with her, but when wasn’t he? He’d be able to wake up next to her, though. He exhaled, trying not to think too hard about the fact he’d almost given all of this up. But he knew she wouldn’t do it again... and he had his plan for the morning. He flopped his head against the pillow.

Arthur wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want to be woken up... but, then, it completely went according to his plan. When she said he should know that she didn’t like being woken up before 10, he snorted and smirked to himself, looking away from Chardonnay and tugging the covers up over himself. He hadn’t expected to be here tonight, but he wasn’t going to complain. Especially not when he felt the bed shift as Chardonnay nestled herself into it beside him, and the lights flicked off. Despite his irritation at her from earlier, lying down in her bed always made him tired, even without sex. So he fell asleep easily, and calmly. He turned towards her in his sleep, something he didn’t notice until his phone went off in the morning.

He woke up and saw her still sleeping face towards him, and was almost distracted enough not to get up and shut off his phone. But, he remembered, and he did. He sat up in the bed and glanced at the time – yup, it was 7:30. Chardonnay didn’t wake up and he looked over at her sleeping face for a few seconds. It was so weird to have to go to work while being here. He didn’t want to go, not really, he’d rather just curl up in her comfortable bed and go back to sleep, or just lie here and forget about the world for a few hours. But, he had a job, and he sighed as he scrolled through his missed messages. There was one from Susan, sending him a picture of herself and Adelaide the other night when they went to an event he couldn’t go to, and then there was another request from Erin for a ride somewhere the next day. He then checked the facebook app and saw a few game notifications from his friends but just deleted them and then clicked the device off.

He got up and rolled out of bed, taking a change of clothes from the drawer. He put the shirt back, then, making sure it wasn’t plaid, and decided he’d just wear his sweatshirt over his bare chest until he got home. It was baggy enough, and he’d only be in the car. Might as well save himself some money on laundry, right? He took a shower after that, noticing that though she’d burned his shirt she hadn’t destroyed his soap. Thank God, he did not want to go into work smelling like vanilla. Once he was cleaned off he got dressed in jeans and then combed his hair in the bathroom, shook it dry with a towel, and put it in the same spot he usually put Chardonnay’s towels after he used them. He exited the bathroom and put his dirty clothes where she always told him to leave them – but then he grabbed a piece of paper and pen out of his bag and decided to write a reminder.

DON’T burn these, you pyromaniac. Or I’m seriously never coming back. He wrote, and left it on top of the clothes. She shouldn’t have any need to – they weren’t plaid. Then again she might be pissed off about his prank... Arthur decided to take his underwear back with him and wash that himself. Knowing Chardonnay, she’d sprinkle it with itching powder as vengeance. Actually, he took all of the underwear he’d left here and shoved them into his bag. He then grabbed his sweatshirt and zipped it up over his body, covering it, and took his glasses off of the nightstand. He slipped those onto his nose, hooked the bag over his shoulder, and glanced over at Chardonnay one more time before he left her bedroom.

He pulled out his phone and opened the text log to Spoiled Princess, and sent her an image: the little plaid square, located very clearly in her condo.

I’m not telling you where this is. Just know it’s in your condo. He said, along with a cute smiley-faced emoji. He grinned to himself and exited the condo, turning around to lock the door behind him. He took the lift down and then entered the parking lot, starting up his car. He got to the center of town and was waiting in a drive-thru for his order at Starbucks when he pulled out his phone again. He saw she still hadn’t seen the message, and added:

P.S. it’s not a shirt. I only promised I wouldn’t leave a plaid shirt over. Didn't say anything about other fabric.

Just... to cover all his bases. She was going to chew his ear off later, but he was still grinning even as he pulled up to the window and smiled at the part-time girl who’d taken his order. She smiled back and handed him his coffee, and Arthur sipped on it as he threw his phone back onto the passenger seat of his car. He drummed along to the pop song playing on the radio and when his phone vibrated halfway home, he fought the urge to check it while he was cruising down the highway.

He reached his apartment complex an hour later, and it was about 9:15. He had left a little earlier than he had to, necessarily, but he felt better being early than late. He checked his phone and saw that it was a message from his sister, asking him if he had plans tomorrow night, because she wanted to make another recipe from Chardonnay’s book. And of course he was the only member of the Summers family that had any cooking skill, so... she needed him to do it. Arthur exhaled before he said sure, and then walked into his bedroom to put on his uniform and check his email on his laptop. He had his phone beside him, and curiously, he checked his log with Chardonnay. Nope. She probably wasn’t up. He exhaled and turned back to his work, checking one particularly long email from Jason that was draining him mentally with every sentence he read. He drummed his fingers on the keyboard absently, and then got another text. This time it was Jason himself, asking if he could get a ride to the theater. Arthur replied sure, and that he was going to have a reply to the email done by the time he left, so that Jason could look forward to reading it in his office. Jason’s response was a series of frowny faced emojis: neither of them really wanted to deal with the topics the email covered.

Arthur snorted to himself and returned to the message on his screen. He stayed there until 10:30, when he finally finished up the email, hit send, and then went to grab his sweatshirt and pick up Jason.

Arthur’s morning continued without word from Chardonnay – she’d still yet to see the message – and he once again was reminded of how often she slept in. it was something he, almost, wanted to make fun of her for, but then again when he didn’t have to work the next morning he slept in just as late. Occasionally, even later. But right now he actually wanted to talk to her or, at least, see her reaction to his message. But soon it was 10:30 and he had to go and pick up Jason a few cities away. He kept his phone in the passenger seat beside him. About ten minutes into the drive he heard a vibration from the seat beside him and glanced over at it.

Spoiled Princess was trying to call him. He had to fight back the grin that tried to form on his face as he ignored the call. Of course, the gut reasoning was that he wasn’t going to talk on the phone and drive. But, then, her reaction to him ignoring her call would probably be hilarious! He wished he could see her face, but he really couldn’t.

He reached over and slid the phone to ignore the call, ending the ringing early, indicated it’d been hung up before the call started. He was going to get shit for that, he knew, but he really couldn’t answer right now. He heard the phone vibrate, again, and he frowned at it this time before he did the same thing – hung up.

He pulled into the city his boss lived in, navigating the familiar roads until he got to the small house that Jason lived in. A slightly battered mailbox said his surname and held a few letters. Arthur parked his car, pocketed his phone, and pulled the mail out of the box. He entered the house then to find Jason all ready to go, contently humming to himself as he pointedly ignored Arthur’s comment that he’d sent the email. It was now roughly 11 o’clock and Arthur knew the two of them would be slightly late, so he pulled out his phone and dialed Jasmin’s number. When she picked up, he informed her that he’d gone to pick Jason up and that they’d be there at 11:30. Despite it being over the phone, Arthur could just hear the way Jasmin’s voice lit up when he had mentioned Jason was coming – everyone really loved being around Jason. As happy as the thought made Arthur it also reminded him that when Jason sold his business and stopped coming around as frequently, there would be something missing. Something that he wasn’t entirely sure he could ever bring to the business himself.

But those thoughts were again interrupted by another vibration, another missed call from Spoiled Princess. He hung up on her again, and then told Jasmin goodbye.

The ride back was a pain, especially because the calls did not let up. Jason commented on it, and that was what prompted Arthur to pull out his phone and go to turn it off, completely. But then his boss asked if the problem was serious and Arthur paused… waiting, was it serious? What if she had a serious problem? But, then, she wouldn’t. Not after yesterday. Everything was fine. Completely fine. He insisted on this to Jason, but Jason looked skeptical.

By the time it was 11:30, they arrived back in Salem, and Jason immediately told Arthur to call back whoever was calling him before he’d be allowed into the building. Arthur tried to refute this but Jason made a point to shut the doors, and hold them, until he saw Arthur grabbing the phone out of his pocket and turning it on. Then Jason left to talk to Jasmin and Arthur turned around to face the street. He got another call from Spoiled Princess and this time, he slid the call button and held it up to his ear.

”Good morning, Princess. Miss me already?” Despite his annoyance at her constant calling, the smirk came back. She was obviously fine – if she seriously had a problem she would have called the police not him. This was obviously about the plaid he’d sent her – and the smirk was audible in his tone.

Ironic that the last time he’d called her, it’d been because he was pissed and wanted to end their arrangement. Or, he hadn’t wanted to, but he was strongly considering it. He watched the wind rustle the trees as he leaned against the wall of his theater, hoping this didn’t take too long. He knew it was suspicious not only about this morning, but also about yesterday when he’d left to talk to someone. No doubt Jason and Jasmin were gossiping about it right now. He rolled his eyes at the thought but, then, he remembered she had to work pretty soon anyway. No way she’d prolong the conversation that long.

He expected her reaction when he answered to be explosive, and angry, but he still flinched when she screamed in his ear and pulled the phone away so it didn’t give him a headache. Of course she’d come to the same theory as Jason had – an emergency – but clearly she wasn’t in one. He tried to deny the swell of relief that gave him, a swell of relief that he blamed on his naturally guilty conscious. Though as she continued to scream at him, he felt his relief fade to confidence. Just listen to her! She was s pissed off! He couldn’t help but grin as he realized his prank totally worked.

”For one, I spend the last hour driving. I don’t drive and use my phone,” He said, keeping his voice calm despite her anger at him. In fact her anger just made him laugh a little to himself, especially when he pictured her furiously ransacking her place looking for the plaid. Clearly she had yet to find it – and she likely never would. It was hidden well and she would probably never think to look there. She’d look at the obvious places first. ”For two, this obviously isn’t an emergency because it’s just about the plaid, you are not suffering in anguish, besides, why wouldn’t you call the police first,” He could hear her breathing was slightly labored – was she seriously that strung up about it? The thought made him smirk more and made it impossible to hide his laughter as he brought his free hand up to cover his mouth, ”and for three, no. Not until you apologize to me – in person – for burning my shirt. And I have to believe you. Until then you can just deal with plaid in your condo. You didn’t seriously think I was completely fine with you burning my shirt last night, did you? God, I wish I could see your face right now. You sound pissed as fuck.”

He laughed to himself, watching as a few cars zoomed around the lot. A few families were approaching the theater, on their way in, and Arthur side stepped a few feet so that his argument with Chardonnay couldn’t be heard – no matter how loud she screamed.

”Yeah, because having this conversation with Jason in the passenger seat of my car is something you would have loved for me to do.” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. So she didn’t believe him? Whatever. That wasn’t his problem. He continued to lean against the wall, watching the shadows in the lot twinkling, as Chardonnay’s voice spoke in his ear. The pitch was wrong – it was due to it being a phone call and all – but it was... kind of weird, to hear her voice so close to his ear. Funny how they were now actually having conversations like this. They actually called one another. Even when they wanted to fuck they always texted... since when did phone calls happen? Since that time she’d needed him in the storm.

And as soon as he thought that, she brought it up herself. He was surprised she had, and he froze for a second. Why... hadn’t she called the police? That was smarter. But she chose him instead. He didn’t know why he’d been on her mind, and he couldn’t really describe the feeling that him being her first choice gave him. But, anyway, all she needed from him was the ride. Instead of pondering that he just laughed, because this whole situation was funny. She was so pissed off; why did she hate plaid? When they were in High School he thought she just found it ugly, or, maybe she just associated it with him. But clearly his plaid never stopped her from wanting to fuck him (except for when his boxers had ruined the mood).

”If you can’t find it your parents aren’t gonna find it either. I hid it pretty well,” He said, ”and all right. Don’t apologize. I won’t tell you where it is. Guess you’ll just have to live with plaid in your condo, right?” Her demand for him to come down and get the plaid made him snort, ”nope. I’m about to go into work now, and I already drove down to your condo an extra day than I should have. I’m not going down there, and don’t tell me you can’t sleep with plaid there. You’ve slept at my apartment plenty, and I have plaid in my closet.”

The prospect of him leaving that there after calling the arrangement off... he hadn’t thought that far. Maybe... he never really meant to call this off in the first place. It would have given him an excuse to text her again... he definitely would have done it then. But... he didn’t ever really think he’d call this off. ”Yeah, probably. That way you’d always have a reminder of how you burning my plaid ruined our sex life.”