"Okay, you gotta roll off of me, I need to clean up," she said finally.

"Got it," he murmured, pulling out of her as she released him and rolling off of her onto his back. He stared up at her unfamiliar ceiling as she got up, then glanced quickly at her bare ass as she walked out of the room.

She had a really nice ass, a fat ass that made him wonder what it would be like to pound her doggystyle.

Jeez, he really was fucking horny. He'd gotten laid twice today, by two different women, and he was still thinking about sex.

Probably a good thing if he was actually intending to keep up with three girlfriends.

"Hey, uh, I'm gonna take a shower," Claire called from her bathroom. "You wanna join me?"

"Yeah," he replied, getting up.

He heard the shower start up and as he joined her in the bathroom, found her already in, the showerhead pulled down and put up under herself, between her legs.

"I haven't dealt with this in a long time," she said as he slipped in and closed the curtain.

"Sorry it's gross and annoying, but if it helps, it feels amazing," he replied.

She laughed. "Honestly, I'm okay with it after those orgasms. Your tongue is just-wow." She finished up and replaced the showerhead, then began washing up. As he waited his turn, he noticed a shift in her mood. A bad and abrupt one. Her expression soured, then trembled, then abruptly she turned away from him and started crying.

"Oh wow-shit. Um...what's wrong?" he asked.

"It isn't you," she managed.

"Do you want a hug?"

She paused. "Yes."

"Come here."

She turned back around and they hugged as she continued crying. Trent waited, trying his best to soothe her. At least it wasn't 'I'm losing my mind, breaking down, hysterical sobbing' crying. Both for obvious reasons, but also for the practical one that anyone who might've heard their sex probably would be willing to overlook it, but hearing outright sobbing after loud sex could be interpreted as a very bad thing that would likely be worth calling the police over.

They stood there together for awhile, her crying against him, him trying not to feel bad or weird or guilty. They'd just fucked and this was her reaction? But he believed her that it wasn't about him. She'd just let her guard down in a massive way to a relative stranger for the first time in who knew how long, and some extra stuff might have come tumbling out.

Finally, she sniffed once, then let go of him, turned around, and washed her face. Turning back around, she rubbed at her eyes, looking at him. She looked upset, frustrated, angry even.

"I don't want to date you," she said, sounding distraught.

"I...know. We already-"

"No," she said, giving her head an angry shake. "I mean, I thought I might want to. Maybe this time. We had amazing sex, and you're so nice, and patient, and you're actually pretty funny, and you write books, and I like writers, and-I don't want to date you. Not even a little."

Trent stared at her, trying to parse out what was happening. "...I don't understand," he replied. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I-goddamnit!" She sighed. "Here, just-take the water," she said, stepping away.

They maneuvered around until he was under the water and, ever the pragmatist, he began cleaning up. "I want to understand," he said. "I'm listening."

She laughed bitterly. "So fucking kind. Trent...when I told you that I didn't want a relationship, I did mean it, because I'm not really in a place for a relationship, let alone with a guy who is dating three other women and trying to get a writing career off the ground. But there's another reason I said it, and I was kind of hoping I was wrong about you, and how I'd feel about you."

"So...you wanted to date me?"

"I wanted to want to date you," she replied.

"But you don't."

"No."

"And that's bad?"

"Yes!" She sighed. "Fuck, lemme just...hold on, I need to dry off. I need to think."

"Okay."

They finished washing up and dried off, then returned to her bedroom. He pulled on his boxers, jeans, and socks.

"Trent," she said, not bothering to put anything on. "I've never wanted to date anyone." She looked at him beseechingly.

"I don't get it," he said finally. "You've had boyfriends."

"Yeah, and I mean, I liked them to varying degrees, but not like-it never felt right, you know? Not with any of them. I've dated six guys, two seriously enough to get a place together. And I liked them, I mean, enough to have sex with them and go on dates and even move in sometimes, but it never felt...I don't know, right. It never felt like a relationship? I don't know how else to describe it. And I thought it'd be different with you! I don't know why, and I don't even know if that's what I wanted, but I wanted to at least know what it feels like! Something's wrong with me!"

"Wait, wait," Trent said as something began to occur to him. "So...you enjoy sex. Right?"

"Yes." She sighed. "I wasn't faking, Trent."

"No, that's not-I'm not looking for you to boost my ego, I'm trying to help. You were really horny? And wanted to fuck me?" he asked.

"Yes. That was totally real," she said.

"And the other guys?" he asked. She gave him a suspicious look. He sighed. "I swear to God, Claire, this isn't a jealousy thing. I'm really trying to help here, I think I know what's up."

"Okay, yeah. I liked having sex with them, for the most part. I was horny. I mean a couple of them I was just kinda horny and just sorta decided 'eh why not?' for? But yes." She hugged herself suddenly. "God, I'm a fucking whore. All I care about is sex. Dating has always felt like just...faking. But not all of it? But-ugh, fuck!"

"No, wait, don't freak out," Trent said. He sat down next to her. "I think you might be aro."

"A-what?" she asked.

He began to respond but there was suddenly a sharp knock at the door.

"Claire?!"

Trent felt an icy fist clench around his gut. He recognized that voice.

"What the fuck?" Claire whispered, shooting to her feet. She looked around hastily and grabbed the blanket suddenly.

"Why is he here?" Trent asked.

"I don't know!"

It was her brother, Chris.

"Maybe he'll just fuck off," she whispered. They waited as another knock came.

"Claire, fucking-come on! I know you're in there, I saw your car." Suddenly they heard a key in the lock.

"What the fuck!?" she snapped, wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself and heading for the door. "Don't come out," she said, and closed the door behind her.

"Fuck," Trent whispered, getting to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. He clenched and released his fists a few times, considering the situation as he heard the front door open.

"Claire-what the hell? Why are you in a blanket?" Chris asked.

"I was taking a shower! What the fuck, dude?! You just walk into my apartment!? I've fucking told you-"

"I need to borrow some cash," he said.

"Go to mom and dad!"

He sighed. "They said no."

"Wow, really? Jesus, you must've fucking tapped them out already if they actually told you no. I don't have enough to spare right now. Will you go away?" she asked.

"Why? Come on, you work two jobs."

"I'm busy, Chris!"

"Doing what? What's so fucking important? You don't ever fucking do anything, Claire. Come on, I just need twenty bucks for gas, I can pay you back next month...wait. Do you have someone over?" he asked.

"I don't have a twenty to spare, I have rent coming up, and electric and-will you fuck off?"

"Your bedroom door is closed! Come on, what fucking loser did you talk into screwing you?" he asked.

Aw shit. Trent pulled his shoes on. He might have to run. He didn't want to. Part of him wanted to actually confront the asshole, but another part of him knew Chris was clearly insane enough to actually come after him and Mae, in plain view of other people, with a fucking box cutter. And although he still had a knife on him, he didn't want to stab the guy. And though part of him was tempted to get into a fight and kick his ass, he'd heard too many stories of scraps that turned into people fucking dying because someone fell and hit their head wrong.

It was way too easy to just fucking die from a head injury.

Plus, he knew he had a very low chance of actually winning a fight against him.

"Chris, just get the fuck out of my apartment and give me your fucking key," Claire snapped.

"Come on! Whoever's back there get out here!"

"Chris! Go!"

"What?! If you're dating someone I think I should be able to know who it is. I actually liked the last guy you dated. He was cool."

"He fucking cheated on me!"

"Yeah, probably because you weren't putting out or you were moping and bitching about everything like you always do-"

"Chris! Get the fuck out!"

"You really don't have a fucking twenty?"

"No!"

"A ten? A five? Come on."

"No!"

"Fuck, fine. But first-"

"Chris!"

Fuck. Fuck. Trent hadn't been able to find his shirt among all her clothes that were scattered across her floor and-

"Hope you got your pants on, dude!"

"Chris! Seriously don't!"

The door opened up.

"Oh what the fuck!?" Chris yelled. "Are you kidding me?! Are you seriously fucking kidding me?! You!? Fucking seriously!?"

"You should leave," Trent said.

"Fuck you," he snapped, stepping into the room. "You're fucking dead, pussy."

"I'm the pussy? You're the fucking pussy who pulled a goddamned box cutter on me."

"I don't need one right now," he said, coming closer.

"Chris! Jesus Christ, fuck off!" Claire yelled, grabbing his arm.

He shrugged her off. "There's no fucking way I'm letting this slide."

"You don't get to let anything fucking slide, Chris! It's my decision! Just fucking leave!"

Well, this was getting out of hand. Trent reached into his pocket, pulled out the knife Gregg had given him, snapped it open and put it to Chris's throat. He wasn't sure what would happen, but thankfully the guy froze up.

"Don't," Trent said quietly.

"Get that fucking thing away from me," Chris snapped, but he could hear fear in his voice.

"Not until you leave. And give Claire your key."

"Fuck you-" Trent pushed the blade a little closer to his throat. "Fuck!" he snapped, then reached into his pocket. "Claire, take your fucking stupid key!"

"Jesus, Chris," Claire growled, grabbing his keyring from him and, somehow managing to keep the blanket wrapped around her, got her own key off, then slapped it back in his hand. "Now get the fuck out."

"I'm telling your fucking girlfriend about this, I'm telling everyone about this," he snapped.

"She already knows," Trent replied, "and you aren't telling anyone anything. You do and I'll call Molly. That store has cameras and they damn sure recorded you. I don't want to fucking fight with you, so if you don't want to go to prison for assault with a deadly weapon, then just fucking leave me and my friends alone."

He lowered the knife, slowly, but didn't put it away.

"Fuck!" Chris snapped after a few seconds of gritting his teeth. "Fuck both of you!" he snapped, then turned and stomped out of the room. A moment later the front door opened and slammed close.

For a long moment, he and Claire just stood across the room from each other, staring. Finally, Trent slowly put his knife away, folding it up and slipping it back into his pocket, then sat down heavily on her bed.

"I'm so sorry about that," Claire said, coming over and sitting down next to him. "I'm really sorry, Trent."

"It isn't your fault," he replied.

"Jesus, he's such a fucking asshole."

"He really is. I figured you two had a bad relationship but God, that conversation hurt. He doesn't give a single shit about anything you have to say," Trent muttered.

"He doesn't! This isn't the first time he's just fucking come into my apartment. The only reason I gave him a key was because my parents kept fucking harassing me about it, all, 'what if there's an emergency?!', like-are you all right?" she asked.

"I need a minute," Trent replied. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm himself. He was shaking from the adrenaline.

"Yeah, me too. Shit. Uh...I'm gonna get dressed," she muttered.

He just nodded. She dropped the blanket and stood up, then began pulling her clothes on. After she dressed, she seemed as distracted and dazed as he did. After a bit, she suddenly started gathering her clothes up. She tossed everything on the floor into a basket and at one point tossed his shirt onto the bed next to him, then headed out of the room. He pulled his shirt on, listening to her start a load of laundry, then she came back and sat down next to him again.

"I don't really know why I did that," she murmured.

"Probably to help calm yourself down," he replied. "Has he always been like that?"

"Yeah. He's always had a temper. He always got in fights in school. He was suspended twice. He's a bully. And a bit of a psycho. He's just...so angry."

"Has he ever hit you?" Trent asked.

"He pushed me a lot when we were kids, and tripped me. He stopped in middle school because I fell and broke my nose and my parents just laid into his ass." She sighed. "Although mostly they were just pissed about the medical bills."

"Christ, your fucking family…"

"I know. They suck shit." She sighed. "I'm sorry about this whole thing."

"Like I said, not your fault. Uh...not sure how you feel about me pulling a knife on your brother."

"I mean, it worked. And there's a part of me that actually wanted to see you fucking beat him down, honestly. But I'm afraid he'd just do something really nuts in response. He doesn't know when to quit." She giggled suddenly. "Man. It shouldn't be this way, but I honestly think it's fucking hilarious that he knows we fucked and it pisses him off so much. It's gotta piss him off even more, because you confirmed that you're here with permission from your girlfriend! Not only are you getting laid by a girlfriend, but also by his sister!...um, what were you trying to tell me earlier? Before he showed up?" she asked.

Trent thought about it, trying to remember. This had all jarred his thoughts loose. "Oh! I think you might be aro."

"What's aro?" she asked.

"Aromantic."

"I haven't heard of that...is that like asexual? I've kind of heard about that…"

"Okay, so, aromantic means that you don't have romantic feelings for people. Like, I don't know a lot about this, because I just kind of come across this stuff online. From what I understand, I think usually people who are asexual, basically people who don't care about sex or feel horny for other people, are also aromantic, in that they don't form romantic attachments."

"So...what, they don't care about people? Have friends?"

"No. They still have friends. They can have really good, close friends that they love. Just not romantically. I mean I'm sure you know people who are like 'you are cool and I like you and want to hang out with you, just not date you', right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, it's like that. And there's a lot of combinations. I think I read that aro people are also usually asexual, but not always."

"So there's not...something wrong with me?" she asked.

"No, there isn't. I mean, is there something wrong with you for having gray fur? Or being a wolf? Or me for having black fur or being a cat?"

"No, but we didn't choose those things."

"Exactly."

"...hmm." She frowned, looking down at the floor between her feet. "I always worried I might be a psychopath or something. I care about people, just...I don't know. Dating always felt like waiting for something to happen, but it never did. I always thought something was wrong with me...are you sure?" she asked.

"That aromantic people exist? Yes. That you are aromantic? I mean, I guess I'm not sure but it sure sounds like you are. It's basically what you're describing."

She hugged herself suddenly. "Is it...okay? Can I just...be friends and sometimes have sex? People will call me a fucking whore."

"People are assholes and yes, it's okay to live how you want to live as long as you aren't hurting anyone. I think it'd be shitty to be out there leading guys on, knowing you have no intention to actually date them and just use them for sex," he replied.

"Like most guys don't fucking do that to women?" she asked, looking at him sharply.

"A lot of guys are cool with doing that, but they aren't all like that, Claire. Not everyone is as shitty as you think they might be. But you shouldn't feel bad about this. If you don't want to date anyone, then don't. If you want to, then do…" He sighed suddenly. "Sorry, I don't want to tell you what to do. I'm just trying to help."

"I appreciate it," she said, and hugged him suddenly. "Besides Ann, you're honestly the first person in a really, really long time I've felt like actually fucking listens to me. And isn't silently judging me...I'm sorry I cried after we had sex."

"Don't be," he replied. "Crying is normal."

"I guess so, but that has to be a bad reaction to get."

"Yeah, don't get me wrong, I was really worried I'd done something wrong at first."

She laughed, sitting back a bit as she let go of him. "You did everything right." She lost her smile and hugged herself again suddenly. "Oh man...I just realized...maybe I was more deserving of getting cheated on than I thought. He tried to tell me he didn't feel like I loved him or I didn't really care about him more than once, and I kinda thought he was right, but I didn't really let myself think that. I sure didn't tell him. I thought it was because I was depressed. He just wanted to feel like his girlfriend gave a shit about him...fuck, I'm such a bitch."

"You aren't, Claire," Trent said. "You didn't deserve to get cheated on. It was probably for the best that you two broke up, but he should've handled it better. Maybe you both should have, I don't know, I wasn't there, but he should've broken up with you instead of cheating on you."

"Maybe," she murmured. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily, then shook her head. "Can I…"

"What?" he asked.

"I don't really want to be here tonight, by myself. And I don't want to ask you to spend the night, really. This place is a mess and it just feels bad now after what happened. Can I spend the night at your place? We don't even have to sleep together again...although I won't say no to that. Holy crap was that sex good...although actually my pussy is kinda sore now...but can I?"

"Yeah. Lemme call my girlfriends," he replied. "I'm positive they'll understand."

"Okay. I'll need to take my car and follow you, since I gotta go to work tomorrow."

While she grabbed some things, Trent called Bea after considering who to call for a moment. She picked up on the second ring. "Hey, boyfriend. What's happening? You all done with your date?"

"Uh...not exactly," he replied.

"Did it go wrong?"

"No, it went like really right, and then it went really wrong, but not, like, with Claire."

"What happened?"

"Her brother walked into her apartment right after I got through fucking her brains out."

"Holy shit, seriously?!"

"Yep."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. We're okay."

"Speak for yourself, my pussy is sore," Claire called.

Bea laughed. "Okay, obviously it wasn't that bad if she's saying that."

"Well...we're a little shaken up. So she wants to spend the night at our place. It got...uh, a little violent."

"Oh, shit. You want me to come get you?"

"No, I'm good to drive. Will you make sure it's okay with Mae and Ann?"

"I'll let them know but of course she can come here tonight if she needs a place to feel safe."

"Thanks, babe. We'll be there soon."

"All right. Just...be careful."

"We will."

Claire stepped into the living room holding a little duffel bag as he pulled his hoodie on. "I'm ready to go," she said.

"Everything's set, let's go."