Moved
eyes.”
    “Ewww. don't, my
hair's standing on end.”
    “I put it in the
bushes across the road, okay?”
    “I guess that's far
enough.”
    I look at him, waiting
for the other, more important subject matter to arise. He munches
his toast and drinks his coffee.
    “About last night...”
he starts.
    Here we go.
    “Yes?” My heart starts
hammering like crazy.
    “You may as well
know... I kinda got it on with Sandy.”
    “No...” I say in a
tiny voice.
    What? And then he did
that with me, straight afterwards?
    My heart goes cold.
Until I realise, that's almost exactly what I did with Jackson,
before him. It all hurts so bad.
    “Yeah, I did,
kinda...” he furthers.
    “What's 'kinda' mean?
Did you fuck her or not?”
    “I kinda did. A few
times.”
    “I see. So you're
what? Seeing her now, are you?”
    “Not if you don't want
me to. But I figured if you and Jackson were game on, it shouldn't
be a problem.”
    Is he being serious? I
can't believe this. Or is he just being evil and rubbing my face in
it?
    “I guess it's not a
problem. If Jackson's not a problem with you.”
    “Hell, live and let
live eh?” he laughs, in a hollow fashion.
    “Yeah, great. Living,
I mean,” I grind out, miserably.
    “I'm getting odd vibes
Kaydee. What’s up? I thought you'd be okay about it. Sandy seemed
to think you'd be fine.”
    And I had been,
before. But not now. My whole world changed last night. And he's
not even mentioning it. He's scrubbed it from his mind. His brief
brunette fling. I'm not exactly his usual fluff, am I? It must have
been disappointing somehow. Disappointing and so shocking, he
passed out in horror.
    I start to tear up and
brim over, my sensitive self coming out in a rush. I run off to my
room. As I get there my phone rings. I grab it and flop on the bed
on my stomach.
    It's Jackson.
    “Hi,” I sniff.
    “Are you okay?”
    I clear my throat, and
put on a brave and cheerful voice.
    “Yeah, fine, you?
    “Great, I've booked us
a table at eight. It's a surprise.”
    “Looking forward to
it, speak later, have to go, someone at the door,” I lie.
    I click off fast.
    I'm so choked.
    A strangled sob comes
out of my mouth.
    I turn over and get
up. He's standing there, leaning against the doorway.
    The tears start to
flow properly.
    “Now suppose you tell
me what the tears are about, hmmm?”
    “You don't
remember?”
    “What don't I
remember?
    “Let me remind you. I
was in your bed.”
    “Because of the
spider. I remember that of course. What happened after that
Kaydee? ” his voice rises in alarm.
    “What d'you
think?”
    “ Oh...no... ” He
says slowly.
    “ Oh...yes... ” I
reply in the same manner.
    “I'm so sorry. I swear
I can't remember a damned thing.”
    “Well that's a shame,
because we became fuck buddies. Just about.”
    “Just about?”
    “You passed out on me
after the first stroke.”
    “Jesus, I didn't? Is
that good or bad news? I don't know what to say.”
    I start to cry
uncontrollably. Because for one wonderful moment last night I
thought he loved me and I loved him. And I do love him. But the 'he
loves me' part was a drunken rambling.
    “Leave me alone,
please...” I sob.
    “But why did you go
along with it? Couldn't you tell I was drunk? I threw a half a
bottle of scotch down my throat. I must have reeked of it. How did
I even get it up? I'm amazed?”
    “You seemed sober
enough to me and everything was fully functional. And you said
things. I said things. It was...”
    He is watching my
teary face intently, unblinking.
    I am so destroyed
inside. But I've gotta do this.
    “It was what?” he
coaxes, in a soft voice.
    “It was what I wanted
at the time,” I begin. “I must have been drunk myself. Let's forget
it, shall we? Not that you'll have trouble with that.”
    His face shows instant
relief.
    I try to smile.
    He pulls me towards
him and gives me a hug.
    I absorb his lovely
fresh smell and die inside a little more.
    “I'm really sorry,” he
says, dropping a

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