Object of My Desire

by R. L. Kenderson

  I couldn’t help the disappointment, and rather than focusing on what to watch on television, I opened up Instagram. On top of my feed, I saw that Travis had new stories to share.

  The first story was a video he had taken of me sleeping in the car on our drive home. It was hard to see my face, but I knew it was me.

  I could hear the sound of the road, and Travis said, “This is my travel buddy. She fell asleep ten minutes after we left, leaving me to stay up all on my own.” He quickly turned the camera around to face himself and grinned before sticking his tongue out.

  I was embarrassed but happy that he’d shared the video of me even if he called me his buddy.

  The story was a picture of him in front of his house with the caption, It’s good to be home.

  But the next video was of Travis scanning the room of what looked like a restaurant or bar and grill of some sort. There was a bar area, but there was also a table in front of the camera with food on it. The next video, someone had tagged him and the group he was sitting with. There were at least six of them, and Travis was laughing at the camera, but he was leaning toward a dark blonde woman.

  And that was the last story.

  Emotions bombarded me. I felt left out that he had gone out tonight without me even though, rationally, I knew that we weren’t that close, I wasn’t part of his friend group, and he’d probably had these plans before this weekend. I was still sad.

  And, of course, I was jealous of whoever the blonde woman was. Even though there were no signs they were romantic, I couldn’t help how I felt. And I knew I had no right to feel that way. He was not my boyfriend, and he’d made no indication he wanted to start a relationship.

  Maleficent came over and curled up at my side, and I sank my hands in her fur.

  I sure did regret sending him the message that I was going to bed. He probably thought I was a loser. Or maybe I just wasn’t in my twenties anymore, and I’d lost a lot of my desire to party like when I was young. I needed to stop worrying about what Travis thought.

  I threw my phone onto the other side of my bed.

  I needed to just take a step back from him and maybe even forget about him for a while. Like all crushes, it would pass if I just gave it time.

  Travis set his fork on his plate and picked up his napkin from his lap. After wiping his face, he threw it on the table. He’d eaten too much, but it was worth it.

  He pulled out his phone from his pocket and saw that Sydney had messaged him. His grin was so big; it almost split his face.

  “Whatcha looking at?” his sister, Lynn, said as she looked over his shoulder. “Ooh … is that the author you went to Chicago with?”

  “Yes,” he said as he put the cursor in the response box.

  “Do you like her?”

  He looked at Lynn. “I think I do.”

  Her face got serious. “Is she anything like Christy?”

  Travis shook his head and smiled at his big sister’s overprotectiveness. “Far from it.”

  “Okay then. I say go for it.”

  “Wasn’t looking for your permission, but thanks, sis.” Travis went back to his phone and started typing.

  There was something about mornings and the new light of day. It made the things that you’d worried about the night before seem not as big of a deal.

  I thought about the things that had upset me before I went to bed, and while they still bothered me, I knew I would get past it, and life would go on easily. So easily that I didn’t even pick up my phone before or after I got out of bed.

  I had learned that I got my best writing done in the morning and that the best way to do that was to stay off social media. I could get so caught up with looking at funny memes and reading news articles that I would see hours of good writing time go down the drain.

  I went downstairs and grabbed a cup of coffee. About a year ago, I’d made it a habit to set my coffee to auto-brew, so I wouldn’t have to wait for it in the morning. I filled up my favorite mug and headed back upstairs to my office.

  I hit Ctrl+S on my computer and stretched my arms over my head. I’d done some good writing.

  I looked down at the clock in the corner. Dang. I’d been working for almost three hours straight. I needed a break. Maybe a shower.

  I was really into my story, so I wasn’t surprised that I’d worked that long without stopping.

  I was writing a story about an FBI team of a man and a woman who had been together for years and saw each other as more than coworkers. After working long hours together, they’d also become best friends. To the point where they told each other everything, including when they’d had sex even if it was bad.

  My main characters had to go undercover and pretend to be a romantic couple. It was nothing unusual. They’d done it a half-dozen times or so before this, but in this case, they were staying with the person they were investigating, and the room was wired. There would be no one sleeping on the couch this time around without the bad guy getting suspicious.

  My favorite part, which I’d just finished writing, was an awesome sex scene. In the beginning of the book, my heroine had complained to the hero about how she’d gone on several dates with a guy but called it off when he gave her lousy head.

  Fast-forward to the scene I’d just written, and the hero spread the heroine’s legs and told her, “This is how you eat pussy.”

  Just thinking about it had me rubbing my hands together and giggling on the way to my room. Sometimes, I had to work hard to make everything fit, and sometimes, things just magically fell into place.

  I went into my bathroom and turned on the shower since it always took a million years for the water to get warm. I stripped off my clothes and threw them in my laundry basket in my walk-in closet. On my way back to my bathroom, I saw my phone and figured I’d better check it.

  I had quite a few notifications, most of them nothing important, and a couple of messages. Lexie had messaged me before school, and Travis had messaged me, too. Last night. I hadn’t heard it because I put my phone on silent after a certain time. I hated being woken up by stupid social media notifications.

  I couldn’t believe he’d messaged me.

  Travis: I wish I were there with you. You can stop thanking me. I had fun. At a late dinner with some friends. Talk tomorrow? BTW, my sister says she approves of you. LOL.

  I reread the message a couple of times. He wishes he were with me? As in, in my bed with me? And his sister approves of me? What the hell does that mean?

  So, that pretty blonde in the video might be his sister.

  I got excited all over again.

  Slow your roll, Sydney. Let’s take this one step at a time.

  I took a calming breath and started to type my response, only to realize I had no idea what to say. And steam was starting to come out of my bathroom.

  Just send him a quick message and go shower.

  Me: Hey. Sorry, I just saw that you’d responded. My phone goes on silent at night, and I got up and went straight to the computer this morning. Hope you had fun with your friends …

  I bit my lip, unsure if I should finish the message the way I wanted.

  If Travis were anyone else who I hadn’t put on a pedestal, I would flirt with him.

  Just do it.

  Wish you’d been here, too.

  I hit Send. Quickly, I threw my phone back on my bed and ran for the shower.

  I refused to wait around for him to message me back like some lovesick schoolgirl. I wanted to think I was strong like that, but in reality, I showered with record speed and raced back to my phone.

  Really smooth, Sydney. Way to be strong.

  I suddenly realized I had been talking to myself a lot in my head this morning.

  “Maleficent,” I called out. This was why I had a cat after all—to talk to. “Maleficent.”

  I heard a meow, and my cat crawled out from under my bed. She looked at me like I was the lowest form of dirt.

>   I patted the top of my bed. “Come here. I need someone to talk to.”

  She turned around and walked down the hall.

  I should have gotten a dog.

  Ding.

  I lasted all of a second before snatching my phone up.

  Travis: I had a good time. Maybe not as much fun as I’d had with you.

  Me: You mean, none of them took off their clothes and let you have sex with them?

  Travis: LOL. No. And I didn’t want them to either.

  Me: That’s too bad.

  Travis: Nah. I’d rather have you take your clothes off for me.

  Me: Maybe that can happen again sometime.

  I was a little nervous about my last message. I was flirting, but I was kind of putting myself out there, too.

  Travis: I wish that sometime could be tonight.

  I fist-pumped the air.

  Travis: But I work until 8 p.m., and then I have to help a friend with something after work.

  I dropped my hand. It had been too good to be true. And I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d picked tonight so that he had a reason to say no.

  Either way, I refused to look desperate, and I wasn’t going to ask him again.

  Me: Hey, I get it. I hogged you enough over the weekend. You have to make some money, and your friends need you, too.

  Me: I have a lot of writing I need to do today since I took three whole days off and only worked a little bit in the car on Thursday.

  I’d had to add the second message, so he knew that I had a life, too.

  Travis: What about later this week?

  Me: Sure.

  Travis: You don’t sound very excited.

  Me: I’ll be excited when I see you. How about that? :-)

  Travis: Sounds good because you will see me.

  “So, you and Travis keep planning on seeing each other, but it hasn’t happened yet?” Harper asked.

  I laughed. “How long have you been waiting to ask that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “All night.”

  It was Saturday, and Harper and I were having a night out, just the two of us. Her mother-in-law was in town, and Harper always needed to get away for a bit when she came to visit. We’d gone shopping and had dinner, and we were waiting in line to buy popcorn at the movie theater. Then, after this, we were going to have an adult sleepover. It was something we tried to do every few months.

  “So, spill it. Does he keep making excuses?”

  “No, it’s not like that. He said he wanted to see me later this week, but he hasn’t brought it up again.”

  “Have you?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Why?”

  “Because I already said I wanted to see him. And he has plans, like, every night. He is always on the go. Honestly, the more we talk, the more I think that, if we really did date, I’d be exhausted.”

  Harper laughed. “Haven’t you ever heard that opposites attract?”

  “If we ever see each other again.”

  “So, what is he doing tonight?”

  “Going out with friends again.”

  “Why didn’t he invite you?”

  And that question was probably the only thing that bothered me. He could have included me in whatever he was doing, but he never asked. I was glad that Harper and I had made our own plans tonight.

  “I honestly don’t know. And I’m not about to ask because I don’t want him to know I care.”

  Harper wrinkled her nose. “You going to keep talking to him?”

  I shrugged. “I suppose. I’m not going to pencil in our wedding date or anything though.”

  Harper nodded. “That’s my girl.”

  It was our turn to reach the counter and order, and the subject was dropped.

  We got back to my house and dropped our stuff by the back door.

  “I’m going to call Ian and see how it’s going at home,” Harper said. “And then I’m going to rub it in that he missed a great movie.”

  “You’re the best wife.”

  She grinned. “I know.” She took her phone from her purse and walked toward the living room.

  “Wine?” I asked as she left.

  “Always.”

  I grabbed two wineglasses from the cupboard and poured us each a glass. I drank my first glass because I was in for the night and because I could, and then I went to find my own phone. It was buried deep in my purse. I had driven us to the movies and back, and I was making a conscious effort to stay off my phone while driving. And, to do that, I either listened to an audiobook or a podcast or I buried it so that it wouldn’t be lying on top of my things, taunting me.

  I unlocked my screen to see that Travis had messaged me a couple of times.

  Travis: Whatcha doin’?

  Travis: I’m sitting here, thinking I had more fun last Saturday.

  I laughed. “Serves you right,” I said to my phone. I also didn’t know where here was, and I was proud of myself for not memorizing his schedule.

  I opened my camera to take a rare selfie. I put my glass to my lips and held the camera high. Click.

  Me: I’m at home where I just opened a bottle of wine.

  And Send.

  Travis: I want to be that wine.

  Ooh, he was flirting again. The man was such a tease.

  I downed the rest of my wine exactly like I’d been taught not to do and took a picture of the empty glass.

  Me: Too late. It’s all inside me now.

  Travis: Now, I really want to be that wine.

  Travis: BTW, thanks for giving me a fricking hard-on at my aunt’s wedding.

  I burst out laughing. That was right. His aunt was getting married for, like, the fourth time or something like that, and Travis did not want to be there.

  Me: #sorrynotsorry

  Me: I’ve been wet for almost a week, so I don’t feel bad for you.

  Clearly, the wine had already gone straight to my head.

  Travis: Send me another picture. This time, naked.

  Me: Ha. Never going to happen. If you want to see me naked, you’re going to have to do it in person.

  Travis: Hold that thought.

  Harper came back into the kitchen. “What’d I miss?” she asked as she picked up her wine.

  I scrolled to the top of my messages and handed her my phone. “Come on. Let’s go relax on the couch.”

  I grabbed the bottle of wine and took it with me as Harper slowly walked and read behind me. I set the bottle on the coffee table and dropped down onto the couch.

  Harper plopped down next to me and gave me back my phone. “Wow.”

  “You think so?”

  She took a sip of her wine. “Now, you know why he didn’t invite you.”

  “Yeah, way too early for a wedding date, especially a family wedding.”

  “Has he texted you back yet?”

  I checked my phone. “Nope.”

  “What do you think he meant by hold that thought?”

  I shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.”

  Harper gasped and sat forward. “You don’t think he’s going to send you a naked pic first?” Her eyes rounded. “He’s going to send you a dick pic.”

  I took a drink of my wine and shook my head. “Please, no. I really like him, and I want him to be smart enough to know that women don’t want pictures of penises.” I held up a finger. “However, I wouldn’t turn down a full nude. But it doesn’t mean I’m sending him anything in return.”

  An hour passed without anything else from Travis. But, by then, Harper and I were on our second bottle of wine, and I didn’t care too much that he hadn’t gotten back to me. I was tipsy, and he was with his family.

  It was just after eleven when Harper yawned. “Maybe it’s time for us to put our pajamas on.”

  “What? No way. We have to stay up and party.”

  “This from the girl who, earlier tonight, said that it sounded like Travi
s had an exhausting social life.”

  “That’s before I turned my bloodstream into an alcohol-stream.”

  “How soon you forget that you party until you crash, and then it’s lights out for you for the rest of the night.”

  I took a sip of my wine. “I beg to differ.”

  “Your twenty-second birthday. You made it up the stairs where you sat down and promptly fell asleep with your head on the top stair.”

  “Okay, you might have a point.”

  Harper pursed her lips. “There is no might about it.”

  “Okay, let’s go change. We can party in our pajamas.”

  Harper stood. “A party with just the two of us?”

  “Three of us,” I corrected. “We have Maleficent, too.”

  Harper looked over at my cat, who was sleeping upside down on my chair.

  I shrugged and laughed. I pushed myself off the couch to go upstairs where the two of us could change when the doorbell rang.

  Our eyes met.

  “Who would be at your house this late at night?”

  “I don’t know.” I gasped. “It’s a rapist. A murder. A murdering rapist. Or would it be a raping murderer?”

  “You watch too much TV.”

  “Scoff all you want, but I saw an episode of Forensic Files where a guy knocked on a woman’s door in the middle of the night, left, came back, raped her, and left her for dead. And that shit is real life.”

  “I’m going to go and peek out the window.”

  I grabbed Harper’s arm. “No. What if he sees you?”

  “What if it’s a she?”

  I straightened my spine. “You think a woman wants to rape and murder us?”

  Harper rolled her eyes and pushed my hand off her. The second she went to go to the window, my phone rang.

  I screeched and jumped.

  I picked it up from where it sat on the couch, and Harper and I both said, “It’s Travis,” at the same time.

  I looked up. “How did you know Travis was calling me?”

  She pointed out the window and grinned. “I didn’t. Travis is outside.”