I wished I wasn't so drunk. I wished I had used my head and didn't let any of this happen. I wished I was smarter, I felt so dumb right now. Sheldon sat next to me on the bed, his eye puffing up where Leonard had hit him, his lip bleeding. He was holding his side, wincing.
I felt so edgy and nervous, what was I going to do now? What about Leonard? Leonard probably hated me now. I hung my head. What should I do? Dump him and start dating Sheldon? How would that work, exactly? Amazing sex every once in a while and then things would just be the way they always were?
I squinted at Sheldon. This was his fault. It was his fault for taking me off guard and kissing me like that. It was his fault for not understanding any social rules whatsoever. But how could I blame Sheldon? I should have known, I did know, but I didn't care.
I licked my lips. I'd have to break it off with Leonard, or let him break it off with me, and some relationship with Sheldon still didn't seem like a possibility, even though I could still feel the aftershocks of the most amazing orgasm I'd ever had.
I stood up, slipped back into my panties, pulled my dress down. I tilted Sheldon's chin up, making him look at me. I saw those blue eyes, one watering and discolored, the other perfect, staring calmly at me.
"Sheldon, I'm gonna go," I said, and he jerked his head away from me, looked down.
"Alright," he said.
"Maybe you should sleep at my apartment tonight," I said, thinking of Leonard maybe killing him in his sleep.
"Why?" he said, genuine confusion in his eyes.
"Because of Leonard, maybe he's still mad..."
"I'll lock my door," he said, and I nodded. That would be okay, I supposed. I took a deep breath, knowing I'd have to leave this room and possibly face Leonard again. I didn't think I could.
"Bye, Sheldon," I said, and I kissed his cheek. He didn't respond, he just stared up at me. I swallowed and I could hear it, I heard the lump in my throat going reluctantly down. I'd have to go. I couldn't stay in here forever.
I pushed on the door, listened to the minute squeak of the hinges. I crept out into the hall, feeling like a fugitive and a whore. The hall was dark, the living room was dark. Leonard wasn't here. Maybe he was in his room or maybe he left, but I wouldn't have to face him at this moment. I closed my eyes and uttered thanks, and then I left their apartment and went to my own.
The morning was no better. I awoke with the guilt trapped in my throat, making it hard to breathe. How could I do that to Leonard? What was wrong with me? But it felt so good, it was so unexpected, it was so exquisite, and Sheldon was so gorgeous. There was never much reason to think that, or to dwell on it, or even to notice it. But I noticed it now. His clear blue eyes, the shape of his lips, the long lines of his limbs.
That didn't matter. Leonard mattered, Leonard with his hurt little eyes behind his thick glasses, Leonard with the crack in his voice, the tears sliding down his cheeks. I caused that, I did it, and I didn't like feeling so guilty. This wasn't high school where these things didn't really matter.
I got up, made some coffee, paced in front of my couch, let the silly T.V. voices wash over me. I would avoid them, both of them, that's what I'd do. What else could I do? I didn't think Leonard would kill Sheldon, he'd hit him and that would be that. I hoped. I shook my head. I'd go to work, I'd go about my routine without them. I couldn't deal with this, with them, with either of them. I felt like a toy that each had a hold of, and both were tugging, and I could feel myself being ripped apart.
I went to work, mindlessly bringing people their food and then clearing it away. I barely saw anyone at the tables as I took their orders on autopilot. I was starting to feel numb, but I wanted to. I couldn't take feeling so torn, so bad, so guilty. I wanted numbness to come and save me, to fill every crevice and let me off the hook.
My shift was ending, and my hair was coming out of the tight ponytail strand by strand. I felt the tips creating a slight bulge in my pocket, I felt the slight ache in the arches of my feet. I was ready to go home, ready to fall in my bed and sleep a dreamless sleep.
I was heading toward the back of the restaurant to get my coat when I saw a familiar figure at the bar. Dark messy hair, hoodie sweatshirt under a jean jacket. Converse sneakers and jeans. Leonard. I sucked in my breath. I had to face him. I marched over to the bar, touched his back.
"Leonard?" I said, and when he turned toward me all the anger from last night was gone, and his eyes were red from crying. He looked so devastated, and I felt devastated, too. I bit my lip and looked down.
"Penny," he said, his voice scraped raw.