Chapter 2: Whoops

When the sun came up, Claire shook me awake and curtly informed me that it was time I got the hell out of their apartment. I stumbled around my new apartment complex—still in my underwear—until I finally tracked down the building manager and got him to open my front door.

The power was back on and my cell phone was charged and staring right at me. Three missed calls from Sonya. I felt awful. For a moment, I considered picking it up and calling her back right then and there, but she was probably asleep and I still hadn't figured out how on earth I was going to explain things to her.

I hadn't let things go THAT far with Tami, but I had still betrayed my girlfriend's trust. I had, to whatever degree, been unfaithful for the first time in my life, and it was killing me inside.

I knew I needed to tell Sonya. No twisting things around to make me sound like the victim, either. But that would come later, when we could actually have a conversation. For the time being, I sent her a quick text explaining about the power outage and promised to call her after work.

Which sucked.

For the first half of the day, Claire barely acknowledged my existence, always finding something incredibly pressing to busy herself with whenever I tried to explain what had happened. She was professional, but dismissive.

Tami, on the other hand, just tried to avoid me altogether. I had hurt her more than I'd realized, and she seemed too embarrassed to even look me in the eye. Since I couldn't exactly talk to her with all the other people around the office, I had the bright idea of writing her a discreet letter of apology, explaining that I thought she was great, and I was so sorry that I had hurt her feelings.

She tossed it in the waste basket without even reading the thing.

I spent about 10 hours at the office that day, and every second of it was so awkward it felt more like 10 weeks. When I finally made it back home for the evening, I got out my phone and called Sonya.

"I love you," I started simply. Right off the bat, my tone of voice told her something was very wrong.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No, I'm not. I ... let something happen. Something really stupid. And I need to tell you about it."

"What are you talking about?"

Every word took tremendous effort for me to force out, like I was pushing a boulder up a mountain. "There's ... these two women at my new job. Last night, I—"

"Last night you WHAT?"

"One of them kind of had a thing for me and—I didn't push her away when I should have."

There was a long, painful pause while Sonya gathered her thoughts.

Our relationship had been going great. She was supposed to move in with me in a couple months. A year from now, we both knew I was probably gonna start shopping for a ring. What if my behavior last night had put a wrench in all that?

"How far did things go?" Sonya finally asked.

"Second base."

"What the fuck is 'second base'? Is that like a blowjob or something?" she snapped.

"What? No! It's, you know, second base. First base is kissing, second base is feeling a girl up, third base is—"

"So you spent all night making out with some random girl and grabbing her boobs?"

"No, it was just for a couple of seconds, then I stopped it. I swear."

She made me sit through another of those horrible pauses.

"You promise that's all?"

"I promise. And I promise it will never happen again."

"This is so fucking lame, Michael."

"I know, babe, I'm so—"

She hung up.

"Sorry."

The rest of the week creaked by in pretty much the same miserable way, with Claire and Tami refusing to talk to me, and Sonya refusing to answer her phone or return any of my emails. I was so scared of losing her, I even considered flying back out east to see her in person—but ultimately accepted that she wasn't talking to me because she didn't want to. Maxing out my pathetic little credit limit to buy a plane ticket wasn't gonna change that.

I should have spent that first week going out, trying to get a feel for the city, making new friends and building a new life. But frankly, things were so weird I never felt like leaving my apartment. So instead, I cleaned and unpacked, organized all my shit, and then cleaned everything all over again. I filled what free time I did have discovering just how terrible most television shows really are when you watch them all by yourself.

When Saturday rolled around and I carted my dirty clothes downstairs to the community Laundromat, I stumbled upon Claire, just as she was cramming a load of wet clothes into the dryer. We both froze awkwardly at the sight of one another.

We were all alone. After four days of getting the brush-off from this woman, I finally had her cornered. Finally had an opportunity to explain myself:

"Claire, please just hear me out."

"No need, Tami told me what happened. Honestly, I kind of expected more from you."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry things got out of hand. But I had to stop it before we went any further. I didn't want anybody getting hurt."

She frowned at me and shook her head. "No, you just didn't want YOU to get hurt. Look, I respect that you're not the kind of person who fucks around behind his girlfriend's back, but I told you—I TOLD YOU—that Tami was in a vulnerable place and you still took advantage of her."

"Whoa, whoa—I never took advantage of her! She was the one seducing me! I never did anything to lead her on!"

"You knew exactly what she wanted and you did nothing to discourage her. You let her keep coming onto you all night because it was stroking your ego to have some hot chick batting her eyelashes at you."

Claire walked right up to me, her icy blue eyes flashing with anger:

"And then, at the worst possible moment—when she was all excited and happy to have someone being affectionate with her for the first time since her breakup—you pushed her away. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

I looked down at my shoes. "I guess not," I sighed.

"And there are other people out there," she choked, fighting back tears. "People who would treat her so much better than you did. People who would love her and cherish her—but instead she set her sights on you."

And then it hit me, all of a sudden. Everything about Claire clicked into place. She wasn't just mad at me for hurting her friend—she was jealous of me. I looked into her eyes, realizing that Claire was hurting, too. Maybe worse than any of us.

"It's Tami, isn't it? That big, unrequited love you were telling me about the other night. It's your roommate."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped.

But I did. There was a sudden, desperate fear in her eyes now that I'd brought it up. Fear of being found out.

"Claire, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. Does she know?"

She continued to glare at me, furious. But then, ever so slightly, her shoulders slumped, and all at once the steam went out of her. Claire's face fell and she just shook her head. She'd been holding back a tidal wave of a secret for god knows how long, and the pressure finally overwhelmed her.

The tears came back, more freely this time, and Claire slumped against one of the unused washing machines, trying desperately to force her sobbing under control. I sat down beside her, and when I went to wrap a reassuring arm across her shoulders, she didn't move away.

Halting words spilled out of her between breaths of air: "She's the best thing to ever happen to me. She's the best thing in my whole life. We do everything together! If I told her it would just scare her off."

"How long have you two been friends?"

"Less than a year, but—but I've never felt like this about anyone before. It's so great, but it hurts SO MUCH."

I hugged her, firmly as I could, trapping her inside the warmth of my arms.

"Does she even know you're gay?"

Again Claire shook her head.

"Look," I whispered soothingly, "under the circumstances I know I'm probably the last person in the world you'd even think about taking relationship advice from—but you need to tell her. If she's really your friend, she won't push you away. You need to trust her to do the right thing."

"What if everything changes?"

"Of course everything will change. There's no going back from an 'I love you.' But look at what's happening to you—This is tearing you up on the inside, and it's only gonna get worse."

After a few more deep breaths, Claire finally got herself together and withdrew from my arms, apologizing for the wet spots her tears had left on my shirt. She looked hard into my eyes and managed to quirk her lips up into a bittersweet, twisted smile.

"I don't get you, Michael. You're, like, a stupid asshole and a really nice guy all at the same time."

"I really am sorry I hurt her. And I'd really, REALLY like to be friends with you two."

"Please don't say anything to Tami."

"Hey, it wouldn't be my place."

That seemed to reassure her, and for the next forty five minutes the two of us waited for our laundry quite amicably. We chatted about nothing particularly important, just being friendly with each other. Neither of us mentioned Tami.

When Claire went about folding her clothes from the dryer, I caught an eyeful of several pairs of skimpy little thongs and panties, in all shapes and sizes.

"You have some sort of fascination with my underwear?" she teased.

I just shrugged my shoulders, caught:

"Honestly, I'm trying not to think about how they look when you're wearing them."

She rolled her eyes.

...

When I got back to my apartment, I saw that I'd missed a v-chat invitation from Sonya. She wanted to talk to me! Praying that it was good news that awaited me and not bad, I clicked respond and waited for her face to appear on my computer monitor. When it finally did, oh man did she look beautiful. She had just gotten back from a run was still all disheveled. A tiny band of sunburn ran across her cute little nose. Sonya was a knockout when she got all dressed-up, but there was something adorable about the way she looked when she was a sweaty mess that just melted my heart.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," I said.

"You're an idiot," she answered.

"I am, it's true."

Then, ever so slightly, she smiled at me, and my whole world lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I miss talking to you," she sighed.

I poured out my heart to her, telling her all the million things I'd wanted to over the past five days. Made sure she knew that she was the absolute, uncontested love of my life.

"Alright, alright!" she finally laughed, putting a stop to my gushy ramblings. "Listen, as long as it really was just a little harmless fooling around, and as long as you don't go making a habit of kissing other girls behind my back, then I forgive you."

"Thank you! When you get here I promise I am gonna make it up to you by sitting down with you and watching a dozen of those shitty old romantic comedies you love. In a row."

Sonya's beautiful lips curled up into a sinister smile.

"Actually, if you really want to make it up to me—take of your pants."

"Yeah?"

"Just shut up and do it," she ordered, "I've been super horny all week."

I was only too happy to oblige. Positioning myself in front of the camera to give her the best view possible, I slowly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. Then, without needing to be prompted, I teasingly slid my boxers down and stroked my cock until it was nice and hard for her.

We both did love to put on a show.

Sonya clapped in appreciation, her cheeks turning pink with desire at the sight of my exposed penis. "Aww, I missed him, too," she giggled.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable without all those sweaty workout clothes?" I asked.

In response, Sonya quickly stripped off her shirt and her horribly constrictive jogging bra, letting her big, soft tits bounce free. My cock gave a little lurch at the sight.

"Oh yeah, we're gonna have to do this more often," I moaned, clicking the "record" button on the video player.

The image on the screen only showed Sonya from the chest up, but from the motion of her arm it was clear that she was already starting to play with herself down below. She bit her lip and let out a little sigh of pleasure.

"Are you recording this?" she asked.

"Of course, are you?"

"Of course!"

My cock flexed even harder in my hand.

"I want—I want you to tell me what she looks like," she moaned.

"Who?"

"The girl you made out with. I bet she was really sexy."

Sonya was rubbing herself harder now, her breathing heavy and aroused. It was kind of an awkward question, and I honestly couldn't fathom what was going through her mind, but I decided to humor her, anyway:

"She's one of the hottest chicks I've ever seen. Adorable face, long black hair, tits out to here..."