He couldn't remember how they got there. Her storming out of the room and his whiskey glass shattered beside him. It had to do with her pestering him about the sponsors again. He ignored her as usual. And she continued mumbling about the kids and things he didn't bother listening. At one point he stood up to refill his glass and finally took in her entire outfit. She was all dressed up to head out. A party he presumed. Then her phone rang.
Finally some peace for his ears. He thought.
Then he heard it. It was Seneca. And a wave of -whatever- rose up within him. And all was history. He called her names. She said some nasty stuff and he threw them back at her. It was bad. It was a very bad fight and considering the amount of quarrels they have on a daily basis. That is saying something.
After she left, he went back to his room with his drink. Now, he was lying here in his bed thinking about how everything went to hell that evening. The residual anger was still radiating off his body. Too hot to be in the covers. It has got to be almost two in the morning now and he heard her come in about an hour ago.
Nights like this, he would be in her room doing what they usually do. He didn't know what got into him earlier. What they had was just sex. So why was he so fed up about her seeing Seneca. But the idea of her with another guy just repelled him so much that he could barely stomach the thought. They never defined their relationship, but he had thought that they were exclusive.
Another drink. That will do.
He just got back into bed with he heard his door open. With his hand on his knife, he looked over. With all the nights they have spent together, he could make out that it was her even with her silhouette. He threw his knife under the bedside table and waited.
She was drunk that much he could make out. She stumbled into his room barefooted, feeling her way with her arms.
She slid into his bed, climbing on top of him. Her small frame barely covered his. Her wig was gone, her eyes hazy, her face looked bare and she was wearing her pyjamas. Gone was her usual warm and musky scent, he could smell the mixture of cocktails and alcohols on her. Definitely drunk.
"You are drunk." He frowned.
"Mm…" She snuggled closer and buried her head in his chest.
"You okay?" He asked. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down to see her soft blonde hair covering her face and a pang of guilt hit him.
She mumbled something against his chest and looked up at him with her intoxicated eyes.
They stayed there staring at each other for a few moments before she untangled herself and sat up on the edge of his bed.
She sat there with her eyes closed for a while before standing up and leaving the room.
He laid there on his bed, thinking until the sleep consumed him at the crack of dawn.
The next afternoon when he finally got up for lunch she barely looked at him. She probably didn't remember what happened last night.
It was two days later when he overheard a conversation at a party that he knew that she broke up with Crane.
That night it was him who slid into her room, drunk, covering her body with his own and lying there till the next morning.