What You Left Behind

I run my putty hand over her leg. She’s wearing a skirt, and I’m able to travel all the way to the top of her thigh without touching any fabric. When I get to the bottom of the skirt, I keep going, underneath, and cup her ass. She rolls into me so she’s almost on my lap and presses her mouth to mine.

Oh yes. This is exactly what I need. The best feelings in the world, without having to feel anything emotional. Shoshanna’s a nice person, but, you know, she’s not someone I’ll ever fall in love with. We make out like crazy people for a while, then Shoshanna grabs my hand and pulls me up off the love seat. “Come on.” She leads me in the direction of her bedroom.

When we get there, she pulls her shirt over her head, pushes me down onto the bed, and crawls on top of me. It may not be very manly, but I’m perfectly okay with her taking the reins on this whole thing. My brain synapses are so delayed that it seems like it takes about a year for my body to respond to anything my brain tells it to do.

Shoshanna presses her body against me and kisses me again. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Ryden,” she whispers against my lips. “I’ve missed you so much. I knew we’d get back here eventually.”

She pulls my shirt off and unbuttons my jeans, leaving a trail of kisses down my chest, going farther and farther south. Good feelings. Only good feelings.

Her mouth is just at the top of my boxers when the door to her bedroom opens.

I don’t look to see who it is. I don’t care at this point. I’m so blasted the house could be on fire and the only thing I’d be able to focus on is the feel of Shoshanna’s tongue on my skin.

“I can’t freaking believe this,” Dave says. I finally cut my eyes to the doorway. He’s silhouetted in the dim light of the hallway so I can’t see his face—and let’s be honest, I wouldn’t be able to focus on his face right now even if this place were lit up like Times Square. But his voice sounds pretty messed up. Like, half heartbroken and half wasted and half pissed as all hell. Wait, I think that’s too many halves.

“Dave, shit.” Shoshanna climbs off me and puts her shirt back on. “I…we’re really drunk. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…” She starts walking toward him, but he backs away.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you knew exactly what you were doing, Shoshanna,” he says. “I want to speak with Ryden.”

I’ve managed to sit up, but it’s the staying upright part that’s giving me a problem. Forget about trying to put my shirt back on. Why are shirts so complicated, anyway? So many holes for your arms and your head.

“Dave, don’t…” I hear Shoshanna say, but he pushes past her and marches over to me.

“Stand up,” he commands.

“Uh…”

“Stand up, Ryden.”

“Not…sure…I can,” I say.

Dave sighs. “Fine.” And he punches me. Actually punches me, right in the fucking face. My cheek explodes, and I fall back on the bed, clutching my face, but my putty hands aren’t doing a damn thing to ease the pain.

“Dave!” Shoshanna screams and tries to pull him away.

“Get off me, Shoshanna. Ryden and I have some stuff to work out.”

“Well, can you at least do it outside?” she asks. “Leave my poor room out of it!”

Gee, thanks for the support, Sho.

“Be out front in three minutes,” Dave tells me.

The one eye that’s not radiating in excruciating pain follows him out the door. Oh look, there’s a crowd hovering around the door and in the hallway. Fantastic.

“You don’t have to go out there, you know,” Shoshanna whispers to me once he’s gone. But the way she says it, I’m pretty sure she’s all kinds of elated that two guys are fighting over her.

What she doesn’t get is that we aren’t fighting over her. Well, maybe Dave is, but I’m not.

My face hurts like a bitch, but it’s actually kinda good.

I thought sex was what I needed—only good feelings—but it turns out pain is way better. It’s like whatever’s happening to me on the outside finally matches all the shit that’s on the inside.

Okay. New plan.

“Pull me up,” I tell Shoshanna.

She helps me to standing, and I stagger out the door, followed by the crowd of people in the hallway. Somehow I make it out to the front lawn. My eye must be swelling because I can’t see out of it too well.

It’s cold out here with no shirt. Even with a shirt, I guess. It’s almost October.

Dave’s pacing the lawn, waiting for me. “Wow, look at that,” he says. “Ryden Brooks actually keeping a freaking commitment for once.”

“Just say ‘fucking,’ Dave. Be a man.”

“Be a man? Okay, how’s this?” He punches me again.

I don’t know how the hell I manage to stay standing, but I do.

The crowd has grown, and they start chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” What a cliché. I wonder if people chant that during fight scenes in movies because that’s what people do in real life, or if people do it in real life because that’s what they’ve seen in the movies.

Anyway.

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