by Kat T. Masen
“Hello? Drew? Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” he responds flatly.
“Phew, for a second there I thought the line dropped and—”
“How often do you have lunch with him?”
“Who?” My eyes dart to Slater. He’s still standing a few feet away. I cover the speaker on my phone and mouth that I’m heading outside. My feet move on their own accord toward one of the meeting rooms. “Are you talking about Slater?”
“Why did it take you so long for you answer that?”
“Because I left the kitchen. It’s uncomfortable to talk on the phone when someone else is in the room. Especially when you ask me how often I have lunch with him.”
“You just said who. As in you didn’t know who I was talking about,” Drew’s voice is thin, gritting his words as if they’re laced with acid. “You damn well know who I was talking about.”
How did this conversation turn into an argument? And over Slater?
“What the hell is your problem?” I argue back. “We share the same lunchroom. I can’t help it if we’re both preparing lunch at the same time. People need to eat. It’s a communal area.”
“So, this happens every day?” He raises his voice, flustered and angry for no goddamn reason.
“I don’t know, Drew, I don’t keep count,” I say with the intent of being sarcastic. “I’m done with this conversation.”
“Of course, you are.” He laughs maliciously.
“Bye.” I end the call and let out a frustrated huff, tapping my foot to vent my anger.
What the fuck just happened?
Drew isn’t a jealous person.
At least, over the past year he hasn’t been. I’ve done nothing wrong but spend every moment planning our wedding. Why does he have a problem with Slater? I’ve given him no reason not to trust me. And anyway, it’s not like Slater’s interested in a woman like me. He looks like the type of man who likes his women refined, wearing pearl necklaces, and carrying Birkin bags.
That’s so beside the point.
It doesn’t matter who Slater’s attracted to. What matters is finding out what bug crawled underneath Drew’s skin and planted the seed of jealousy.
Chapter Five
Drew
I would gladly write this week off.
Things just kept getting worse, and the pressure mounts every which way I turn.
I studied medicine knowing it would be a difficult career choice. It was a given that I would need to put in more hours than an average job. This week kicked my ass to the gutter and buried me along with it.
Disaster after disaster and a full ER around the clock, I rarely stop to eat, let alone grab a drink of water. When I finally get home each morning, I can’t even function, struggling to stay awake and spend time with Zoey.
I’m snappy, at my worst, and she doesn’t seem to understand the pressure I am under. Yesterday, I almost lost a patient on the table because I was so exhausted and wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank God Raine was beside me, pointing out where I’d almost made a mistake. Something which could have cost me my career.
It’s not just the long shifts that weigh on my mind. It’s also the upcoming wedding and Zoey’s newfound friendship with a man I’ve never met. A man who Mia’s referenced on more than one occasion to be ‘English sex on legs.’ While Zoey never comments, her smile that followed had me seeing red. The fucker irked me. Even though I’ve never laid eyes on him, the fact he spends more time with my fiancée than I do has left me bad-tempered.
And I’ve been taking it out on one person—Zoey.
Not seeing her as often as I like has become a strain on our relationship. And every spare moment she has, she’s out meeting caterers, dressmakers, stationary people, you name it. Her head is wrapped around this wedding. I wish I could be more involved. Despite my earlier reluctance, I actually do give a shit about some things. Like where we will spend our honeymoon because I plan to devour her body for the entire trip.
“What a night.” Raine collapses on the staff lounger beside me removing her hair from the tight bun only to re-do it again. Why do women do that?
“Did I thank you in the past twenty hours for saving me?”
“I think a dozen times. But let’s hear it one more time just to boost my ego.”
“Thank you.” I smile, touching her hand to show her how grateful I am. How easily fatigue caught up with me and could have damaged everything I worked so damn hard for.
Her eyes wander to where my hand rests, and immediately, I remove it. Shit. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Fuck, I need sleep.
“You’re welcome.” She bumps my shoulder with hers and continues to smile as if it didn’t mean anything. Thank God.
“You know what the best part is? I get to go home now and put my mom hat on.”
“I don’t know how you do it. You’re just…” I trail off, unsure of how to voice my admiration without coming across like a dick.
“I’m nothing, Drew. I made mistakes, twice actually. I should have been careful, but I was too caught up. These two mistakes are the best thing to happen to me, but it’s hard work and something I have to do. My boys deserve a good life. I can sleep when I’m dead.” She has her head screwed on and knows where her priorities lie.
My cell inside my front pocket vibrates, and I remove it reading the text from Zoey.
Zoey: Invitations sent, but they used the wrong sticker to seal the envelope. I’m so upset they screwed it up!
And just like that, I’m brought back to reality. I don’t even know how to respond, and instead, don’t. After our argument last week over Zoey having lunch with Slater, there’s constantly a giant elephant in the room. We never discuss it, avoiding each other or just making civil conversation. I fucking miss the old Zoey, the one who would watch television and ridicule Bridezillas because all she ever wanted was a wedding in a small chapel with Elvis and some old lady witnessing the nuptials, armed with a bottle of tequila on the side to get the party started.
“I should head home. More wedding stuff that’ll probably get dumped on my shoulders,” I say without thinking, venting my frustrations.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married. It’s a big deal, you know.”
“As big as having two kids?” I crack, grabbing my bag from my locker and pulling out my hoody.
“Depends on how you view marriage.”
“A lifelong commitment to someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
Raine grins, standing up and removing her shirt. She’s wearing a tank underneath that says ‘Vegan.’ I divert my eyes back to my locker pretending I didn’t notice that she appeared braless. You’re tired, and you miss your fiancée. Ignore everything.
“Wow, can I clone you? Why aren’t there more guys like you around?” she asks with a slight chuckle.
Grabbing her jacket from her bag, she rummages around and finally producing a nut bar from the healthy café a block over. It’s my favorite one, too. Ripping into the packaging, she takes a bite closing her eyes. “How good are these bars? I’m so glad they have that place around the corner.”
“The best,” I respond, enjoying that we have common eating habits. “Have you tried the fig one?”
“Yes,” she answers, chewing. “I bought like ten of them. My kids love them. Plus, the kale chips? Heaven, I tell you.”
“I can’t get over the rubbish people put in their mouths. Zoey’s a bottomless pit when it comes to candy bars and pizza.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” she says in a decidedly odd tone, lowering her eyes toward the floor. “Or how lucky she is to have you.”
I keep still wanting to thank her again for helping me out, but she’s quick to wave goodbye without saying a word, leaving me alone in the room.
***
The curtains are open, sun filtering through the apartment with the smell of coffee lingering in the air. The living room is covered in magazines, paperwork, box
es, and samples of things. It’s one giant mess. My OCD has kicked in, but I have things that require urgent attention.
Throwing my bag and keys on top of the kitchen table, my feet move toward the bathroom where I can hear the water running. She’s singing loudly and off-key to some random song.
“Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one…”
“Zoey,” I call.
She stops singing, peeping her head out of the shower curtain. “Oh, hey. You’re home.”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know what else to say, and with a moment of awkward silence, she moves her head back around and continues to shower quietly.
There’re two things I could do here—walk away and get the sleep I need or strip and join her in the shower. Letting out a sigh, I know I have to fix whatever this weird vibe is between us.
Stripping will mean I get laid.
Winning.
I remove my clothes tossing them into the dirty clothes hamper that sits near the door and pull the curtain aside watching her stand in the wet completely naked. Fuck. I get hard just looking at her naked. It seems like forever since we’ve been sexual. I’m also quick to notice that her body looks more toned from the copious amounts of exercise she’s been doing.
Without saying a word, I climb in and stand underneath the water ignoring her just to goad some sort of reaction. She’s watching me intently, mouth screwed with her evenly sculpted brows furrowing with anger. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“Rules? What rules?”
“We’re supposed to hold off until the wedding.”
I laugh it off, grabbing the soap and lathering my body. “I briefly recall you mentioning that but chose not to listen. The answer is no.”
“No?”
“No,” I state, turning to face her. I know her well enough to know she has her sex eyes on—the ones that pretended to be uninterested but down below, her pussy is soaking wet ready for me to enter and fuck her like crazy.
“I’m serious, Drew.”
I rest my hand against the wall, pinning her against it. “I’m serious, Zoey. I’m going to fuck you now. You’re going to come. I’m going to come. I fucking miss you, and you have no say.”
Her mouth opens to speak, and I’m quick to place my hand over it kissing her wet neck while I press my body against hers. With a weak attempt, she tells me again to stop, but her body is begging for it—nipples hard and skin crawling with goosebumps as she waits for me to enter her. I fucking miss her so much and am unable to control myself any longer. My hips buckle forward, and with my over-sensitive cock throbbing in the palm of my hand, I circle her entrance ready to fuck her senselessly.
Against the wet, white tiles, her body slides when I thrust myself in and out keeping in rhythm with her loud moans. She’s almost there, her pussy dripping wet making that noise that drives me to the brink of insanity.
I bring her wrists together and lift them above her head, exposing her body—a beautiful canvas that belongs to me, and in only four more weeks will be mine until death do us part. I wish she knew what she does to me, how she makes me feel, and give up these stupid games of trying to fit in with what society says. Yeah, society may tell you to hold off until the wedding night, but I don’t give a goddamn fuck.
The fire rises within me, the pounding in my chest mirroring the aching throb building as every second passes. My skin is hot, steam rising above the warm water that settles against my body. I’m fading, slowly, sinking deeper into her until the fireball barrels throughout my entire body reaching every peak, every inch, as a loud groan escapes my mouth the same time I bury my face into her neck.
I see only red light peeking through my closed eyes as the rush overcomes me causing my mind to blissfully ignore her pushing my chest away. Opening my eyes, blinking away the water from my lashes, I see her staring back at me with a gratified expression—her flushed cheeks a dead giveaway that she peaked at the same time. When she comes down from the high, her face changes to a look of discontent.
“I told you I wanted to wait.”
I’m unable to hide the satisfied smile on my face. “C’mon, that’s never going to happen. Plus, I didn’t hear you complaining after what looked like a very intense orgasm.”
Pulling myself out, my cock springs free still hard and ready for round two. I should give myself a few minutes, so I grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze a drop into my hand, lathering the foam all over my head as I massage it in.
“You’ve just ruined something that should have been special on our wedding night,” she says blankly, still standing in the same position.
I laugh. What a ridiculous notion. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m sorry I just fucked you. Is that what you’re after?”
“I’m after you taking this wedding stuff serious,” she shouts.
“God, would you listen to yourself?” I almost yell back. “We already live together, Zoey, practically like a married couple. The only thing missing is a stupid certificate. I’m trying to take it seriously, but it’s becoming a joke. The next thing you’ll want is an orchestra playing and doves bringing our wedding rings to us.”
There’s silence, her faced racked with guilt.
“Don’t fucking tell me there’s an orchestra and doves bringing us wedding rings?”
“They don’t bring them. They kinda just drop them in your hands.”
I shoot her an annoyed look stepping out of the shower while I grab a towel to quickly dry myself. Roughly rubbing the towel against my skin, I use it as a way to vent my frustration. “And I’m guessing those doves don’t work for free?”
“Not exactly.”
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I turn to face her standing still in the shower—naked. I wish her body didn’t distract me, but I’m beyond furious at this stupid dove thing. We aren’t fucking royalty the last time I checked.
“I still want to build a house next year. And I’d hate to think you’re spending all our money just to show off to a bunch of people I don’t care about.”
“How dare you say that about me?” she follows, stepping out and grabbing her pink towel. Without drying herself off, she wraps it around her body and tucks it in just above her left breast. “We don’t get a do-over, Drew. This will be our only wedding day. I want it to be special.”
“Special doesn’t have to deplete our savings,” I warn her. “It’s Mia’s fault. She’s getting in your head.”
“It’s not Mia’s fault, and she isn’t getting in my head.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble. “I bet she likes to tell you how perfect of a man Slater is.”
Zoey laughs, grabbing her brush and running it through her hair. “Yeah, she does. Doesn’t mean I listen.”
Her comment throws me off, and that pang of jealousy hits me once again. I grab her wrist and pull her to me. Her towel loosens its hold and drops to the floor. Turning her, I wrap my arms around her waist as our reflection greets us in the mirror.
“I don’t want you near him, do you understand?”
I wait for her reaction staring directly at the foggy glass.
“C’mon, Drew, we work together. I can’t not be near him.”
“You work together. That’s it.”
“Yeah, I could say the same for Raine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the exact same thing, Drew.”
I don’t like where she’s going with this, and to claim what belongs to me, I spread her legs, tilting my head as I cup her ass in my hand.
“Drew,” she begs, with a slight warning. “Please, I really want us to make our wedding night special.”
I don’t listen to her. At least, I make her think I’m not listening. My fingers move across grazing her perfect asshole and sliding down to feel her slick pussy waiting for me—again. She begs me once more not to continue, but her body betrays her mind. I tease her slowly, and just when her begging stops, I pull back, her breathin
g uneven as she stares at my reflection in the mirror.
“Have it your way. I won’t touch you,” I tell her. “Just remember, you’re sending me on my bachelor party, and I’m pretty certain it’ll involve naked women.”
“Troy promised me there wouldn’t be.”
I kiss the top of her shoulder and walk out of the room without saying another word.
***
It isn’t unusual to be paged on my rostered day off. Three people called in sick, and they’re short-staffed. Raine’s also been called in, and thankfully, she’s kept me company today.
“I went on a blind date the other night,” she tells me as we hang out in the reception area.
“And?”
“I don’t want to say. It’s embarrassing.”
“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. He stood you up, is that it?”
“He brought a list and proceeded to ask me what fetishes I had,” she says slowly.
“Oh,” I mouth.
“Oh, indeed,” she repeats. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if we were actually dating, just not what I was expecting on the first date.”
“Straight to business.”
“I get it. Trust me, straight to business isn’t such a bad thing, but that’s just one step too far. I need to get laid,” she complains, leaning against the desk while crossing her arms. “Just not to a nympho.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. This girl tells me she needs to get laid, and two years ago, I would have taken her to the janitor’s closet and made that happen. She’s hot, I can’t deny that. Fuck, stop allowing your brain to conjure up images of this girl.
You’re getting married!
With doves, apparently.
“Sorry.” She covers her mouth instantly. “Forgot I was talking to you. Too much information. Me and my big mouth.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you out.” I smile, then retract my words. “Shit, didn’t mean it that way. Not that I’d help you out if I could. I mean, I don’t know anyone… never mind.”