“Yeah, I dig some of those. What kind of dinner salads do you make?” Killian asks.
I start telling him about an avocado and chicken caprese salad I used to get asked to make for potlucks, but Ray cuts me off.
“Get us another beer, Vi?”
“Sure.”
My chopsticks have been mid-air as I was talking, so I put them down and head to the fridge for beers. When I get back, Killian is giving Ray a death stare. I hand beers to the both of them but then see Killian hasn’t nearly finished his first one.
“Oh, I’ll put that back.”
“Or you can sit and eat after working all day and then coming home and making dinner, Violet,” he says softly.
The tone he uses, for some reason, it makes me want to burst into tears. I pull my lips tight, and my bowl of noodles, chicken, tofu, and vegetables looks blurry through the wetness in my eyes. My heart is thumping really hard, and my chest feels hollow, but I know I’ve got to hold myself together.
Ray repeatedly makes an ass of himself through the meal, telling bullshit stories to make him sound like his life is sweet and he has his shit together. He does almost all of the talking and Killian doesn’t seem bothered by it, more like he’s taking it all in with avid interest.
As soon as I put my chopsticks down and wipe my mouth, shoving the bowl away about to speak, Killian stands. “Me ‘n Raymond are on clean-up. You go put your feet up. Or take a bubble bath. You run this girl bubble baths after a long day at work, man?”
Before I realize it, I show a pretty obvious scoffing reaction at that suggestion. Ray’s got his eyes on me and I know that look. I know it and I don’t like it. It’s the look he gets just before he turns mean.
“Yeah. Good idea, man. Give a kiss first, babe,” he orders, patting his knee.
I’m unable to stop myself from physically cringing, but I try to cover it up with a clearing of my throat and then I round the table and he pulls me onto his lap, putting his lips to mine.
“Dinner was good, Vi. Minus the snow pods and those chestnuts. Maybe put steak in it next time.”
“Glad you liked it,” I say, staring at my hands in my lap. His fingers caress my hip and then he gives a squeeze and puts his lips on my mouth again. Killian disappears behind us, heading to the counter with the wok.
Getting up with a mumble about needing the bathroom, I feel Ray’s eyes follow me as I scurry away.
***
The rest of the evening is spent with me puttering around, cleaning the bedroom and bathroom, running up and down from the building’s laundry room, serving chips and salsa at one stage and feeling like Killian’s eyes on me generated heat as I delivered the chips and suffered through another kiss from Ray. At the end of the sports event, the clock striking 11:10, I’m ready to go to bed. I linger in the kitchen, needlessly wiping the clean counters and I’m about to say goodnight when Killian stretches with an audible yawn.
“Mind if I crash on your couch, guys?” he asks. “I’ve had too many beers to drive, and I don’t wanna take a cab and have to hassle with coming back to grab my car in the morning.”
Killian’s eyes are on me.
I’d only served him two beers and knew Ray drank more than that, but maybe Killian had consumed a few before they got to our place. He doesn’t seem drunk, but what do I know?
Before I can reply, Ray is only too happy to oblige, telling me to get the sofa bed made-up and then getting nasty at the fact that the two pillows I put out aren’t enough. I put out two more from my bed. Killian tries to object, but Ray insists. By the time I get to bed, though, after putting the beer bottles in the recycling bin and washing my face and brushing my teeth, the bedroom is dark. Ray doesn’t usually go to bed this early. Most nights I’m in bed way before he is, and I know it won’t be easy trying to fall asleep with him here.
I feel around in the pitch dark and surmise Ray has the remaining two pillows on his side and there’s nothing for me. I ball my plush bathrobe up and put my head on it.
I’m on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as I can get.
I feel a smirk tug at the corners of my mouth as I recall Killian’s voice calling him ‘ass wipe’ which I’m quite sure he did no less than three times.
Despite trying to settle in and fall asleep, my mind is all over the place. This is the case most nights lately as I lay in bed with regret blanketing me and what ifs sailing through my mind. But tonight, it’s worse, partly because Ray’s here beside me, but mostly because my brain is filled with all things Killian.
Everything about Killian intrigues me. Turns me on, even. And it’s been a while since I’ve felt any sort of physical attraction to anyone. I felt butterflies especially with the way he watches me. He watched me every time Ray was even slightly nasty. His eyes were on me every time I entered the room. And it felt like they were on me every time I left it, too.
Ray was extra salty with me in front of Killian at first. A show-off trying to make it seem like I was his meek and obedient girlfriend. But Killian was nice to me and kept giving Ray dirty looks as well as giving him shit for his attitude so as the night progressed, Ray got nicer. Ray got nicer to me than he’d been in a long time when he saw Killian’s visibly uneasy reaction at how he treated me.
As I’m pondering the evening, the blankets move, and Ray is reaching between my legs. I jerk in surprise and try to turn over.
He pulls me back, roughly.
It’s rough in a way that, two years or even a little over a year ago would’ve felt like carnal passion. Right now … it doesn’t feel remotely passionate.
“Come here,” he whispers and leans over, touching his lips to mine. He stinks of beer.
I close my eyes tight. Shit.
“I have my period,” I whisper, lying.
“Don’t care. Need you,” he says, and his fingers assault me and sadly, I was a little wet, though not for him. Not at all for him.
He yanks my panties down and goes at me with his fingers like he’s on a mission.
He probably mistakes my wetness for blood. The room is pitch-dark and so he can’t see, but he’s never ever been remotely interested in sex while I’m on my period. Actually acted grossed out once in our early days where I suggested we just do it in the shower. Why now?
He’s trying to get me off. He hasn’t gotten me off in almost a year despite using me to get himself off whenever he feels like it. I go along because it doesn’t typically last long and it shuts him up, but he isn’t giving up this time. I’m fairly sure he’s doing it so Killian will hear us and think he’s a stud, a stud who’s making me happy sexually.
It goes on and on and I’m repulsed. Repulsed at the sound of the bed creaking, knowing it’s got to be audible in the living room, knowing Ray’s intentionally moving in a way to make the bed make noise. But more than that, it doesn’t feel good. Ray used to know what he was doing with my body, he used to be good at it, but either he can’t be bothered to put in any effort, or I’m just so repulsed by him that it makes no difference. Wanting it over, I finally fake it soundlessly with an exaggerated trembling of my body and a gusty exhale. I go lax so he’ll think I orgasmed.
He rolls onto me, “Get it out,” he whispers, and it takes a beat for me to realize he’s talking about a tampon.