I don't want to go to her place. I don't want to see Regina. Well, I do, but I know I'll probably sock her right in the face if I do, so I refuse when Belle asks if I want to come over. She stays over a few nights a week, and the others I spend hanging out with Ruby. I refuse to neglect her again.
The thoughts of Belle's secret continue to plague me, and it only makes my urge to go out and get high all the more intense.
I tell Ruby, and she sighs.
"I don't think it's a good idea. You've been clean for a while. I don't want to see you spiral out of control. You shouldn't get high to try to control your feelings. It doesn't work. You know that."
"Well, can't I at least try?" I whine.
She shakes her head and says, "No."
"Whatever. I'll go out by myself then."
I'm testing her. Testing to see if she'll try to stop me, or if she'll feel guilty and concerned and agree to come with me. I don't want to go alone. I want to go with her. I want her there with me when I'm tripping balls and out of my head.
"Fine. I'll go. But you're not-"
"Thanks, Rubes!"
Later, I tell Belle we're going out, and she sounds concerned. She knows I use drugs, but she hasn't seen me high since we met. I don't think she knows how badly I need it right now.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I tell her, kissing her cheek and leaving the park where we'd met up.
That night, I take way too much, before Ruby can stop me. She looks horrified when I nearly fall on my ass and stumble around the club. When I start to move towards the bar, she grabs my arm to stop me.
"No way, missy. You stay right here with me."
I protest, but she pulls me close by my hips, then turns around. Before I can protest further, she's grinding on me. I'm too delirious to stop her, and too delirious to keep my eyes open. I'm also too delirious to stop myself from grabbing her hips and pulling her back against me. I'm starting to get turned on, but eventually, I have the realization that this is Ruby grinding on me, not my soul mate, and that I need to stop before things get out of hand. But my inhibitions are low, and I just want to get off, so I turn her around roughly and look into her eyes.
"Ruby," I say, looking at her lustfully.
She sees it in my eyes and immediately pulls away, saying, "No. No, no, no. We're supposed to be having fun, not getting you in trouble and making you regret the entire night. This isn't happening."
I press myself against her and sigh, letting my head drop to her shoulder. Luckily, I make no other move, and she holds me for a few moments before gently leading me to the edge of the dance floor. We stand there for a while, until my head is clear enough to get in the car. She brings me home and tucks me into bed, and I feel a rush of affection for her, and once again, I'm so grateful to have her. Things could've gone south very quickly, but she stopped me and took care of me before I let it happen. I know she's an amazing friend, and as I fall asleep, I think about this, and my anxieties are calmed by this comfort, if only for a little while.
I find myself alternating between moods where all I want to do is fuck Belle's brains out and moods where my impulse is to avoid her. The sex isn't like it was before. It's angry. I think she likes it though, the way my hand leaves marks when it slaps her ass, so I don't really stop or let up at all. I let the rage pour out of me. I never say anything. I keep it inside. By physically, I let it out, and it's enough to pacify me for a short time. Then I need to get away from her again before I snap. We only sleep together at my place. I refuse to be around Regina, even though I know she's not really the problem.
One night, about a week after we sort of made up, I lose it. She texts me saying she'll be over in an hour. We'd planned it the previous day. We were going to meet up after dinner and do what we always do now: have angry, angry sex and fall asleep. I leave early in the morning so she wakes alone. But I'd forgotten. I'd gotten lost in my own rage and self-pity. And I'd started drinking early. I should have called Ruby instead, but I didn't. I just poured the liquor down my throat and attempted to let the burn make me forget. It doesn't work, and when I got the text from Belle, I panic. I'm not in any condition to see her. I'm a wreck. My hair's washed, but I'm in sweatpants and a tank top, and I look like I haven't slept in days. The panic's so intense that I'll do anything to ease it, so I rifle through my sock drawer to find the tablets that transport me to another world. I find them quickly and take one. I nearly drop the tablet, my hand's shaking so badly.
I know it's a bad idea. I know. Like I'm not already enough of a mess. But I'll be less embarrassed if I'm higher. I'll be able to forget most of the night, too. As soon as I down half a glass of water, I realize that I could have just told her I feel ill and that I couldn't see her tonight. Oops. Hadn't thought of that earlier.
Before I can blink, the room is spinning. Then, I'm getting off the couch to answer the door. I see the look on her face as she takes in my disheveled appearance, and my panic rises. The ecstasy isn't helping. In fact, it's just-
"Are you okay?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts. "What happened?"
"N-Nothing."
I'm not sure if I can stand much longer, so I go and sit down on the couch. She follows me, sitting beside me, and tries to look into my eyes. I look away intentionally, but she turns my chin until I'm looking right at her.
"You sure you're alright?"
I nod, and the next thing I know, I'm shoving my tongue down her throat. Anything to get her to shut up. Anything to distract myself from thinking about her fucking her best friend. At first, she resists and tries to pull away, but my hands are on her breasts, and I know where to touch her to get a response. Soon, we're in my bed. I don't know how I got to my bedroom without falling, but I did. I'm drunk and high and angry, and I'll do anything to get out of my own head, so I start taking off her clothes. She thinks I'm just eager, and I'm pretty sure that's turning her on. Maybe she thinks I've fully forgiven her. Either way, by the time I get her panties off and throw them to the side, I know she's ready for me, because when I dip my fingers into her, she's already soaked. I'm not. I'm not horny; I'm angry. I'm angry at life for being unfair. I'm angry at the universe for giving me a soul mate who keeps relationship-changing information from me. I gave her a second chance, but I don't trust her. I should probably just get over it. Jesus Christ. I'm sure she would have told me eventually. But for some reason, I'm still so fucking angry that she let me fuck her in the room right next to the woman she used to sleep with. It's unreal to me.
So I shove her down onto her stomach and slap her ass, saying nothing. She gasps. I watch red handprints appear on her pale white skin for a while, until I'm starting to get bored. I need more, but the room is spinning, and I'm having a hard time staying upright, so I roll and lay down beside her, then pull her on top of me. She connects our mouths in a kiss and hungrily tastes my tongue. Obviously, she knows I'm drunk. I wonder if she can tell how fucking high I am. I need to cum. Need a distraction, before I slap her in the face. I'd never want to really hurt her, so I grab her hand and put it between my legs. Luckily, she stops kissing me and takes the hint, plunging her fingers into me. I let out a heavy sigh of relief as the stimulation finally takes my mind off my anger. It feels good.
Too good.
I start to unravel, and then something horrible happens. I shut my eyes. As soon as I do, I see it. I see her on top of Regina. I see them both crying out and cumming together. I know what she sounds like when she moans, Regina had told me. I can't get the words out of my head. I can't get the image out of my head either. But my body's reacting faster than my mind, and I climax, seeing Regina's face contorted with pleasure behind my eyelids.
By the time my heart slows nearly to a stop, I'm disgusted and shaking with rage. Belle probably thinks the orgasm was so good that my body's still reacting. But it wasn't. It was mediocre at best. Barely enough to satisfy my lust, even.
"I need you to go," I blurt out, when I see her mouth open to ask me what's wrong.
I'm significantly soberer now than I was when she got here, and all I want is to be left alone.
"I can't do this."
She doesn't protest or ask why. She just leaves.
Thank God.
Except, the next morning, her cell phone is sitting on my nightstand.
"Fuck!" I scream.
The plan, upon falling asleep, had been to never speak to her again. Apparently – unless I involved Ruby – that wasn't an option anymore. I had to bring the phone back, or she had to come get it. I'd just as soon get it over with than have to wait for her to show up, so I shower and get dressed and leave the house in a hurry. When I arrive at her apartment, to my horror, it's Regina who answers the door.
"Hey. I-" she starts. "Wow. Shit. Are you okay?"
I look like dogshit. I know. But I'm in no mood to talk, so I remain sour and businesslike.
"Where's Belle?"
"She went to work. It's Friday?"
"Oh. Right. Here's her-"
I start to hand Regina the cell phone, but she takes a step back and says something I never thought I'd hear her say.
"Come in."
A little bewildered, I step inside. I'm not really sure why I'm doing it, but there I am, in the living room, waiting for Regina to tell me why the hell she just invited me inside.
"I heard what happened," she explains. "I'm sorry."
Who the fuck is this girl? What the fuck?
"No, really," she continues, when she sees the skepticism on my face. She knows I don't believe her, so she continues, "I am sorry. Look, I know what it's like to be cheated on and lied to. Back when we were sleeping together and I found out she had a thing with one of our neighbors, I-"
"What?"
I'm dumbfounded. Belle cheated on Regina?
"I mean, we never said we'd be exclusive or anything. What's the point in that, if we're not soul mates, you know? But it still hurt. And I didn't find out until like a month later that they'd been sleeping together the whole time."
"What the fuck," I gape, in total disbelief.
"I would have told you if she hadn't walked in on us that day. I'm sorry." I start to turn red in the face, and she can obviously sense that I'm quickly growing furious, so she backpedals, saying, "She's really a good person, Emma. She just… She doesn't… really… share things… about herself. You know?"
"I do now, yeah."
"I wanted to tell you sooner. I just. I don't know. You were just so… annoying."
I scowl at her.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're annoying. I don't know how else to say it."
"You're a major bitch, you know that?"
She laughs. She actually laughs. I can't fucking believe it. What a psycho.
"You're a sociopath too, apparently," I grumble, starting to make my way to the door.
She grabs my arm to stop me, though, and turns me around.
"Hey. Maybe you should have a drink."
I laugh. If only she knew.
"Oh. Sorry."
Apparently, my laughter said it all.
"It's fine. I should go."
"Why don't you sit for a while? She won't be home until late tonight. She's got a meeting after work with some guy. I dunno. Anyway, it's probably not good for you to be alone right now."
"What the fuck do you care?"
"Like I said, I've been there. I know what it's like."
"So why are you still friends with her?"
"I don't know. I guess I have more to lose in giving her up than I have to gain."
"What do you mean?"
"She knows everything about me. Everything. She's my best friend."
"Some fucking friend."
She bites her lip. I'm surprised at how suddenly insecure she looks. She's like a completely different person. It doesn't make sense, but I'm grateful. The last thing I need is to deal with her bullshit.
"Just sit down. I'll make you dinner, okay? You look like you need to eat."
I blink a few times and almost involuntarily find myself on the couch.
It's weird, but we eat dinner together in front of the television, not saying much for a while. I'm actually starting to relax when she finally speaks.
"God, this show is stupid," she laughs.
I nod and laugh too.
"Can't help but love it, though."
"I hate stupid humor."
"Then why are you smiling?"
She rolls her eyes at me, telling me to shut up without using words, so I laugh harder.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
For some reason, I can't stop laughing. The irony is so painful that my gut hurts. Here I am, sitting with the one person on Earth that I can't stand, who is being almost as nice to me as my own best friend.
"Everything," I answer her, when I'm finally able to stop laughing.
I'm still smiling, though, and I can tell she thinks I'm crazy. But here we are. And to my surprise, she starts laughing. This time, she's laughing at me. Oddly, it's intoxicating. I find myself loving the sound of her laugh and enjoying the fact that it's me who elicited the sound.
