by Ruby McQueen
“No!” This time I scoff. “I’m still half asleep. Let me get food into me and then you’ll see more Trinity than you can handle fella.” I try to stay cool, but I am all of a sudden starving.
“Ha! I can handle her just fine, so throw her at me all you like! There will just be more handling.”
Whoa! That hits me right between the thighs. Recollections of being manhandled instantly saturate my mind. For brekkie I’d like an order of Derek, he and I entwined in some kind of pretzel action. I almost want to chuckle thinking of that. And yet I’m dead serious.
“Do you need reminding?” He says in an adamant tone grinning wryly.
I smile a rather cheeky smile. All I heard was challenge. I really want to goad him because let’s face it, I’m a winner either way, and oh how I enjoy winning! But I am really hungry and desperately wanting a nice warm shower. I’d say hot but they really aren’t my thing, standing there while my skin scorches scarlet is not me. I prefer leisurely warm showers.
“Hmmm well you shall eat, Baby Cakes, and then you shall be re-schooled as to my expertise at handling you.” I chuckle softly and nod in a ‘will you now?’ fashion.
“Come on ya goof, what are we having for breakfast then?” Ohhhhh the temptation is to just say ‘you’ but I think on it a bit instead.
“Well how much of an appetite do you have?” I ask the obvious. I know he is always hungry. I know him. I just can’t resist.
“Are you kidding me? I’ll eat you if you ask any more stupid questions, Missy.” And with that he leans over and starts biting on me playfully and I curl up to protect myself somewhat laughing as he sinks his teeth in and then his stubble drags across my bare skin giving me a shiver of delight.
“Ok, ok! How does Blueberry pancakes sound with fruit smoothies?”
“You and your fruit smoothies.” He says lifting his head up “Sounds scrumptious actually, what can I do to help?” After roughing around his Mohawk is in disarray and I laugh a little louder than I mean to. It’s both funny and cute. Here is Mr Suave, bed messed hair.
“What’s so funny?” I can’t stop laughing, the confused look on his face added to the chaotic hair just winds me up more. I try to explain but can’t yet.
“Trinity?!” He says trying to chastise me playfully. “Tell me damn it!”
“Your hair, its eerrmm, well look.” I say repressing my giggles and nod over at my dresser, above it a mirror he can see for himself. He rolls over and stands bare-assed and takes in his appearance. A few moments after he starts giving the actions of ‘hey good-looking’, I start chuckling again at his goofiness.
“You can’t be laughing at my hair; you haven’t even seen yours yet!” What! Ugh, great… I feel the jest slip away from my face. For a moment I’m not sure if this is an accurate observation or I’m getting punked!
“Ha! Shuts you up though doesn’t it?” He laughs a little.
“Yeah well, if it’s not a hot mess after last night’s effort… you weren’t really handling me, huh?” I say teasingly. I decide to leave my hair exactly the way it is. Hell with it! I’ll wear my bed hair proudly, all day in fact. I want him to see it and know why it’s in such a state. He did this.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises his eyebrows like I should know better.
“Oh yeah?” The defiance already laced in my tone.
“Yeah.”
“Well hell with that! Imma wear my shitty bed hair proud. Yup, that’s how I roll.” I say playfully indignant as I get up and search for a top to throw on. I have blueberry pancakes to produce and some ridiculous fruit smoothies to throw together. I grab Derek’s button-down shirt from the floor, crumpled. Outstanding! Will totally match my wild unrestrained lion’s mane. Rawr!
I throw it on and with and air of rebellion, making direct eye contact as I dramatically button each button, oh so smugly so the shirt is buttoned unevenly knowingly adding to my abysmal state.
“It only makes you that much sexier, Trinity… But go ahead.”
“Oh, I will… Derek. I’m going to rock the shit out of sex mess.” And with that I swing around and saunter out into my kitchen, hips deliberately swaying in an exaggerated fashion.
I hear the toilet flush a few moments later and the shower fire up as I duck under my cupboards to hustle up the equipment to start brekkie. I grab my almost flat phone and plug it into my speaker dock on the kitchen bench and fire up my music selecting ‘Dorothy’. I suddenly feel the need to have my morning pee which I was distracted from. Ugh, holding it is hard. Are Derek and I at that place where I can fanny in there and pee while he’s in the shower? No. I can’t do it, not yet anyway and I’m surprised it’s even up for contemplation.
Is that couple stuff? Peeing in one another’s company? I pause for a moment mulling it over. Am I seriously standing here trying to decide if I’m going to do couples stuff with Derek? The same Derek who I’m not entirely confident is a total player or too young or not even looking for more than a fling. And yet I guess it must be what I want? Me, the ice-queen, the dysfunctional one, it’s almost a cosmic joke! Maybe he is defrosting my loner heart?
I jam out singing along as I cook brekkie. Derek eventually emerges from my room with his head tilted to the side while he digs around his ear with a cotton bud.
“Bin?” he enquires as he approaches. I motion to under the sink.
“Hey, do you think you can finish these off for me, I’m busting for the loo.” The last couple of pancakes are already in the pan, they only need flipping when they bubble. He smiles “Of course.” I dash past him and playfully slap his ass.
“Hey!” he chastises humouring me. “I’ll let the place burn and you know it’s true.” Implying I’m sparking a sexual escapade.
“Yeah-Yeah.” I respond as I skip through my bedroom to the bathroom. I hear the clatter of him getting cutlery out as I stop in front of my dressers mirror to put a little lip balm on, I feel a bit dehydrated and it's showing, so I need to remedy it with plenty of water. Before I go, I hear a buzz and see Derek’s phone light up with a message. I pause a moment. I know it’s not ok to be reading a guy’s messages, or anyone’s for that matter, BUT I really don’t have a compass with this guy, don’t I owe it to myself to investigate any clues about Mr Perfect? He could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I had way too many of those already! I tell myself it's ok, after all its lit up right there and I wouldn’t be touching anything, no rifling through it, right?
I decide it’s the right thing to do, maybe not right, but right for me and that’s as right as it can get. I crane my head sideways to view it.
Message is from an Ella Monroe. It reads *Hey, waiting at yours, where are you?*
My stomach drops…
What the fuck! I quickly head back to the bathroom, I need a moment to gather myself. Ok, it could be purely innocent, right? This might just be an old friend, I have male friends, Merrick has a spare key to the shoebox, we hangout a lot, but it’s platonic. If Merk had sent a message like that, it would mean nothing. I certainly wouldn’t tolerate jealousy nor a lack of trust if it was just a friendship. On the other hand, I know Derek enough to know some of the shadows that lurk there. He is not really a monogamous guy. He gets bored easily, bored with the women, bored with the sex and I know the clingy, materialistic types that are wrapped in pretty wrappers lose him fast. Why did I even catch his eye at all? I think it’s because I’m cut from a different cloth. I’m sure he’s had cuter girls, hotter too, I’ve seen pictures and I know he’s never dated an ugly one, not even close. But his complaints revolve around their being clingy or naive mostly, it seems he’s a hunter alpha type, but then I am too, perhaps not in relationships which I avoid, but otherwise. I think the reason I have captured his attention is how I’m different to women, not all women, but the ones he’s had experience with, they all fall head over heels for him in some capacity and want to claim him, display him, this is ‘my man’. I get it, I know what it’s like to be a trophy. I�
��ve had to unhook my trailer from undesirables and that is part of the attraction, I’m kind of unavailable. I’m hard work and I think he likes that. It sounds so dysfunctional and fucked up and yet it’s the truth. I’m so hard to reel into anything, I’m a marlin. I won’t commit on any level. It’s also what pushes them away too, well the ones who are worth it, the psychos are in it for the long haul. After I wear them down with my aloofness it’s too late and I regret the hurt and frustration I know I’ve caused, but my judgment is so messed up, I feel so stuck.
I have already had 2 stalker boyfriends. One was cold and distant and very cruel at times; we were a total mismatch and he didn’t want a girlfriend so much as a baby factory. I could have never predicted he would have acted the way he did when we split. And the second Cyril Marris, whom I actually didn’t like on first impressions, he loved the sound of his own voice and he came across as obnoxious, that was a massive red flag, right? I’ve got no one to blame but myself really, we worked together and despite my very cold demeanour towards him and the ever present ‘fuck off’ vibe that I’m sure oozed from me, I still allowed myself to be worn down over time. He was a clingy, needy, possessive, jealous type. Just very unattractive over time and oh boy could he cry harder than a hormonal schoolgirl who’s biggest crush just died!
Anyway, I think the mix of my being such a tomboy and so different from his pretty girly types as well as the chase is why Derek can’t let me go. I have pushed him away many times, perhaps only half-heartedly but still, I go colder than polar bear poop in the flutter of an eye.
So, either way I really have no claim over Derek. Either the text is innocent in nature and I shouldn’t over think it, or this is a fuck buddy or girl of his, but either way I guess it’s none of my business. If it is the latter though, what am I doing here? What are we doing? What is this? Normally I don’t care. I’m not into getting involved with guys with baggage, I don’t need the shit, I’ve been through the wringer enough and avoidance is a solid strategy of mine. So, what are my options?
I take a deep breath and stare at my face. I need to rally and get back into the game. Maybe this is the last time we do this after all. We are only here because I messaged him, he really made no effort to follow things up. This is just sex, a bet. I feel crushed a bit either way… I have options, I’m hardly going to be without, I have no trouble hooking up, if I need some sexy time there’s a plethora out there.
A song ends and I think I hear Derek approaching. I quickly grab my toothbrush and load it with my herbal toothpaste and thrust it into my mouth just in the nick of time. Ha!
“Hey, Pretty Lady, are you ready to eat?”
“Mhm” I reply with an agreeable tone, but no words.
He smiles and watches me for a spell, making me a little self-conscious, but I choose not to react, instead going for the spit and rinse. When I look up, he’s gone. Ok, get your shit together, Trinity!
I wipe my face and head out; I note his phone is gone. I see him with his phone which he places in his pocket as he looks up at me.
“Finally… I was about to send search and rescue out for you.” He says playfully.
“Ha! Exaggerator.” I say poking out my tongue. I can do this, be bubbly, mush on, it’s only for a bit, I can sulk later.
I round the counter and sit on the stool beside him. He’s laid out the counter top with everything, so domestic like. I’m not sure if he’s trying hard to impress, he’s very domestic or just had too much time to kill while I mulled over his Ella text.
He looks at me for a bit. It makes me stop, like ‘what?’
“You ok, Baby Cakes?”
“You always ask me this.” I roll my eyes with a smile and he nudges me with his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I add.
“I don’t know, you just seem so distant sometimes like you’re deep in thought.” Ugh! I don’t know how to respond to that.
“Well…” I sigh “I guess it’s just that I’m such a loner and I suppose you get used to being alone and not talking.” I offer that instead of the truth. He knows a little about my past. There’s something easier about texting your deeper darker ‘stuffs’ when there is some kind of buffer between you. That and he and I both seem to avoid expressions of what we mean to each other. He wants me to spill my guts about how he makes me feel, but I get very little in return. Truth is, his lack of sharing keeps me firmly bunkered in behind my walls. I want to let them down, I just can’t yet.
“Hmmm.” He looks down and stills and then looks back at me. I pick up my smoothie and drink some of it just so I’m not sitting there idle under his gaze. How can someone his age do this to me?
“Plus…” I add in, super delayed and think this is what I should have just said instead “Shut up and just let me eat my breakfast, cos I’m starving.” I beam at him as I pop pancake into my mouth and add a sly wink just so he knows I mean it light-heartedly.
“Uh-Huh.” He returns the gesture, grinning at me.
I just need to get through this! I could send a sneaky text to Merrick to come rescue me from myself. Ugh! Why is this so hard? As much as I should make the most of this, it’s a monumental internal struggle already and if I’m honest, why delay the inevitable? I’m waiting on the rejection. Because this is what I know. If anyone loves you, they leave. It suddenly dawns on me, that I avoid relationships because I don’t want to be abandoned, either by death or by choice. And my string of incompatible boyfriends have been my unconscious strategy at being with someone that is basically “safe”. Not safe really, I’ve been stalked and harassed, but emotionally safe for me. I’ve never been ‘head over heels’ in love or been emotionally invested in anyone enough that I couldn’t pull out of it completely intact. When I get out of a relationship, I feel… Nothing. How could I? There wasn’t a total emotional commitment and so I become the “Ice Queen” to these men. I’ve never had a man tick all my boxes and drive me crazy with lust or passion. I stay safe, I don’t allow anything close that might awaken the slumbering queen that has isolated her heart, lest to survive. I’ve remained in my frozen tower aloft everything that could make my heart beat again. I’ve chosen death. Death on the inside. But this crazy young man, has somehow breached my walls! All this time, he has been breathing life into me. Now I can’t go back. But I’m terrified. Can I exist without this? Or the better question, can I ever go back to being numb, now that I’m consciously aware what I have become? And as I stand at a crossroads, my mind drifts to Ezra. I hate that it does, but that’s where it goes.
“What should we do today, Sexy Lady?” Derek says interrupting my self-reflection. “Lady”. I hate that. It’s a reminder of the age gap between us. He playfully reminds me, because he doesn’t care about it. I do. I hate it. But I ignore it. I smile up at him as I drink the last of my smoothie.
“Hmmm, I dunno?” I think we should get out of the shoebox. As much as I want to devour him, every inch he can give me, I am not sure that it’s healthy to engage him further sexually if this is the last time we spend together. Last night’s sex was mind blowing. It set my everything on fire. It was the ultimate fantasy, but this has come full swing and it’s time to move on. We aren’t anything really, other than come buddies. Somewhere inner Sydney so he’s close to home, and it’s done…
“Have you been to Paddy’s markets yet?” I say making sure I seem enthusiastic.
“No. I’ve heard about it though.” Who would he heard it from I wonder? I don’t even know what he does for work here. I know nothing. I have no idea where he works, who he is friends with, how he grew up, nothing of substance. I know exactly how he likes his cock sucked though. Ending it is the obvious choice here, although ending something that hardly is anything is a moot point.
“Cool, that’s the plan then!” I beam at him, before getting up to clear the dishes into my dishwasher.
I go into my bedroom and open a draw from my dresser. I grab a pair of short denim shorts with a fold at the bottom, and a busty casual singlet that is vin
tage cream and navy stripes. I add a pair of sandals that are like thongs, if I’m walking a lot, it’s in flats. I dress it up with some silver tear drop earrings and a silver cuff bracelet and bold silver ring. I grab my sunglasses, no makeup today, just Trinity. Deodorant and perfume and I’m done in under 5 minutes. I know my hair is somewhat dishevelled, but I don’t care. I have a hair tie in my clutch, with my other emergency items, so I’m good to go! Off to the market with my friend… Friend. I guess we can be at least that. Maybe… Although unless we are having sex, I honestly don’t know how to be around him. I don’t feel like me. I am unhinged and nervous, I don’t like who I am around him. Or is this the story I tell myself to make it all ok? Maybe I need another pat-n-chat with Merrick? But I have made my mind up, and I don’t think any discussion is going to change that now.
We were perfect strangers, who met online, who ignited a sexual desire and lived a virtual fantasy, and now it’s done…
Its late afternoon when I return to the shoebox. Derek and I have goofed our way all through the market stalls, trying on hats, clothing and jewellery and giggling our way through all the assortment of products. He bought me a helium balloon teddy bear, matching scarfs and an oval mood ring for me because the joke is I have too much poker face for anyone to pick my moods. We stop on some massage chairs to rest and so Derek can eat again because he’s a bottomless pit. Somehow or another Derek ends up asking me mood related questions for my ring and my answers coupled with the intense vibrations made my voice sound weird. So naturally I had to enhance the sounds by sucking helium straight of the helium bear’s ass and answer with a high pitched, squeaky vibration voice which I decide to enhance further by bunging on a rough Scottish accent, because I’m a next level kinda girl. We laughed so hard we were in tears and my sides hurt. Sometimes, just sometimes, he makes the rest of the world disappear.
It was the best afternoon and I thank him as we say our goodbyes and he hugs me. A lingering squeezey hug, and I don’t know if I should kiss him or not, so I awkwardly make small talk about stopping in to see Merrick on the way home. He smiles and touches my cheek and tells me “You’re beautiful, inside and out, Trinity”, to which I blush accordingly and smile in acknowledgement as pieces of me die a little inside knowing my intentions have become to distance myself from him.