This is a long time coming
This is cut into three parts because LJ was being a bitch and complained this was too long.
TITLE: Dirty Little Secret (part III of Undefinable)
SERIES: Sailor Moon
RATING: PG-15
CHAPTERS/ONE SHOT: One-shot
GENRE: Angst, romance
PAIRING:Usagi/Mamoru
SUMMARY: They say, it’s when you’re the happiest that you should prepare for the worst.
AN: Took me two days of little to no sleep to write this. This is unbeta’d so any mistakes you catch, please point it out. I know this one’s long overdue. I don’t like the first scene and you’ll notice why once you’ve read it>< Let’s hope this was worth the wait.
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon copyright © Naoko Takeuchi.
“I so rule!” The words are out of my mouth before I could stop them. My nimble fingers wrapped around my prize, the remote to Darien’s big screen TV (which always left me in awe whenever my eyes landed upon it). It had been hidden somewhere amidst the piles of magazines that littered the coffee table.
I hugged the remote control to my chest, ears wide open, waiting for the other current occupant of this apartment to make his presence known. He didn’t and I sighed in relief, my shoulders relaxing as I slouched onto the couch, leather creaking noisily. I propped my sock-covered feet on the coffee table, shifting my calculus and biology books out of the way.
Darien, the poor misguided soul, had taken on the Herculean task of helping me study for my midterms. The biology review had gone as I had expected it to: it had been a total disaster in which I was insulted and beaten over the head with a number two pencil numerous times. That, of course, we had chosen to abandon, Darien stating that he would “try again later.” Then we had moved on to the current bane of my existence: that evil thing called calculus. After thirty frustrating minutes of unsuccessfully trying to help me understand transcendental functions and integrals, it soon became apparent that I could not be helped (no matter how hard he tried to dumb it down for me).
He had become resigned to this and had stated that we both needed a break -that is, before he tried to strangle me or I ended up beating him unconscious for having stolen my graphing calculator (again).
I, of course, had taken his words to heart, going into his perfectly spotless kitchen and making myself an ice cream sundae, a sandwich, and of course there was the incident in which I ended up smuggling a precious bag of Oreo cookies. And somehow, a glass of milk found itself being worked into the deal. Really, what were Oreo cookies without milk?
He had disappeared into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and the water running was the only sign that he was still in there. Not that I was complaining. I was going to give myself an aneurism trying to understand what the connection between integrals and curves were and why I should even care that it existed.
I sighed, shoving a spoonful of fudge covered vanilla into my mouth. All stressful thoughts of calculus and midterms disappeared as I savored that first spoonful of chocolate, vanilla and cookie dough. There was nothing better than relaxing in front of the television and eating someone else’s food. Nothing except for Darien himself.
Darien who was now officially my boyfriend. The weeks since his confession had been rocky as we both tried to adjust to our new roles. We’d moved past occasional fucks and meetings to what most would call “casual dating.” A big step for the both of us. Once a week we went somewhere different, spent two or three night locked away in his apartment, and went to restaurants I knew none of the girls (especially Rei) would ever frequent.
He was my secret and I constantly dreaded the day one of the girls would find out and told Rei. Rei would have to be told. Of all their reactions, hers was what I feared the most. Rei had an explosive temper, was notoriously known for not being a fan of second chances or of forgiving those she thought of as traitors. And in her eyes, I’d be considered as such. I had betrayed her confidence, started sleeping with her ex not three months after their break-up -when her wounds were still fresh and she still held hope in her heart of him returning to her.
‘God,’ I took a shaky breath, tried to erase the fear from my mind, ‘do I even deserve her forgiveness?’ I had betrayed her in the worst possible way: Friends don’t sleep with each other’s ex’s. It was a rule that was well established between us five. I was such a fucked up friend.
Depressed, I took another spoonful of vanilla mint chocolate-chip cookie dough and relished. I took a sip from the glass of milk I had secured between my thighs and shoved a well-soaked cookie into my mouth. My other hand was busy with the remote control, my mouth chewing methodically, in synch with the flipping of channels.
There seemed to be nothing on television, as per usual during the day time. I refused to switch to the Lifetime Channel, knowing that whatever was on would reduce me to tears in seconds. I wasn’t called Crybaby in middle school for nothing, and in my current saddened state, the tears were likely to come when I least expected them to.
I switched the channel once again, took a bite from my ham and cheese sandwich, and cast a concerned look towards the bathroom. It was still locked. ‘Just hope he hasn’t drowned himself.’ I shrugged at the thought, concern shoved towards the farthest corner of my mind. He’d come out when he was good and ready to.
So engrossed in my musings was I, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt rough, callous fingers slinking down from my shoulders to my arms. My breathing hitched when I felt warm lips against my flushed skin. I groaned, titled my head and offered him my throat, my lips -anything he wanted. All that is mine was his for the taking. And he took, parted my lips with his tongue and plundered my mouth. And I willingly succumbed, moaning for more, wanting his hands on my body. I was more than addicted to his touch, it as an obsession.
The suction of our lips parting brought me out of my lust-laden daze.
I panted a little, titling my head to rest it against his still wet hair. I couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “I’m guessing you didn’t drown in the bathroom.” I felt him chuckle against my ear, felt it vibrate through me. I sighed in pure bliss.
“You taste like vanilla and fudge.”
I blushed pleasantly flattered.
You are worse than weird.
I tried vehemently to silence that little voice.
So what if I like guys who thought I taste like food? I inwardly frowned, these days, I was fighting with myself more and more. It was getting out of control. But hell, who wouldn’t want Darien Shields to tell them they tasted like ice cream?
I giggled at my train of thought, the lack of oxygen not doing anything to help me in my dazed state. “Yeah, well, you taste like peppermint toothpaste.”
“Let’s have dinner on the terrace.”
I looked at him around the sandwich and took a healthy bit. He’s got to be kidding me. “You mean outside?” I felt him nod against my shoulder. “Where I can easily fall to my death and there’d be no chance of survival?”
“Well...” his warm lips smirked against my beating pulse, “when you put it that way...”
“I don’t think so Dare-bear. I love you and all, but I like having my body intact.”
He sighed and the heat of his breath sent tingles rushing down my spine. “C’mon, move over then.”
I shifted the plate containing my half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich, the glass of milk still nestled tightly between my thighs -moved them all onto the coffee table, and lowered my feet to the ground, knowing he was soon going to complain about me putting my feet on his beloved glass coffee table. Darien could be such a neurotic at times.
I shifted over to the other half of the couch, gave him enough room to both move around and have a nice view of the television screen (not that he wouldn’t. The damn thing still took up half the space in the living room). I changed the channel to Cartoon Network. They were giving Codename: kids next door. I switched the channel just as Nigel -
My wicked, curious eyes (which had of course been on him and hardly on the screen) were currently getting an eyeful. Darien was presently eating my ice cream sundae. Not just any ice cream, but mine. He was licking the spoon with such enthusiasm that I at that moment envied that spoon. I wanted him licking me all over, to have his tongue trail a burning path along my willing flesh, to feel his soft lips brand my skin with their warmth. I wanted-
‘Urg! Bad Serena, bad! No thinking about sex!’ But I couldn’t help it. My eyes were locked on that spoon and on his mouth. Was it any wonder that I wanted to be that spoonful of ice cream that was currently melting in his mouth?
‘Damn it! Self, distract me!’ It was either my inner self was a sadist with a masochistic streak or I needed to really learn some self control. But did he have to be so sexy and tempting and all those other adjectives that made him sound sinful and forbidden to my mind, which it turn made me become a mass of quivering goo?
I forcefully swiveled my eyes back to the television. “Don’t you have TiVo or something?” The question came out like a whine. I couldn’t keep the pout I felt forming from my lips. We were watching MTV for God’s sake...and they were giving one of those dating shows that made no sense to me whatsoever.
“I swear, I will subject you to the torture of that evil sexist thing known as the Disney Channel if you can’t find me something to watch.”
He laughed and pulled me into his arms. The remote was taken from me and soon I found myself flat on my back with him nestled between my thighs. He gave me a mischievous grin and my heart rate spiked. “I know something else we could do.”
I giggled gleefully and arched into him, my arms automatically going around his neck. I pulled him closer to me and gasped when I felt him licking and biting at my neck. His hands were on my body and heat filled me. I resisted the urge to moan, plead for him to touch me all over, to take me right then and there. He pulled away, ignored my exposed neck -a blatant offering if ever there was one. My arms around his neck slackened and he sat up, staring at me thoughtfully.
It took him minutes of staring, of the television being the only source of sound in the entire room, to make me uncomfortable.
Sometimes, I hated his silences. They crawled under my skin, entered my bloodstream and froze me, made me itch to say anything to the fill the maddening silence. I fought against the urge to rub my arms as goose bumps rose along them. I shifted under him, trying to make him talk for I did not know what to say to this.
He cleared his throat and finally said, “I have a gallery opening next week.”
I nodded, saying “that’s nice” even though I had no idea why I should care. He always had a gallery opening. What was so special about this one?
“I have some photographs that I want you to see.”
I went from nonchalant to interested in three nanoseconds flat. If I could, I would cackle in maddened gleefulness. ‘This is going to be so much fun,’ the thought nearly sent me into a riotous fit of giggles. I was going to see him sweat. Darien didn’t know how to ask someone out, hadn’t ever had to ask. He had confided this to me once. It was going to be so much fun messing with him.
“Really?” My heart fluttered against my chest and I tried not to show how eager I was. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah, they were taken a while ago. I think you’d recognize some of them.”
I nodded. ‘God,’ eagerness quickly gave way to barely restrained agitation, why couldn’t he just come out and say it? It was all I could do to not scream, “Just ask me!” at him.
“I really want you to see them.”
I wanted to laugh at how awkward and adorable he was being, sitting there, hardly making eye contact. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragged him down until our noses were touching and his tussled raven black hair blocked my vision and I was engulfed by his unique scent of cinnamon and roses. “When’s the gallery opening?”
He sighed against my lips. “On the tenth. Thursday. At 7 p.m.”
I laughed, pressing my lips against his, “I’ll be there.”
~*~*~
Preparing to go anywhere with Darien meant that I, Serena Tsukino, winner of the “Most Likely to Forget her Wedding Day” award in high school, turned into an obsessive compulsive. I usually turned my closet upside down, annoyed Mina to no end. I couldn’t be blamed though. The one and only time I had gone to one, I had been humiliated and had left before Darien had even seen me. Being told I couldn’t afford him had been more than enough to chase me away. This time would be different, I vowed to myself, I would be prepared. The only problem was I had no idea how I was expected to dress, which was where bugging the hell out of Mina came into play.
Mina hadn’t seemed to mind. All I had to tell her was that I had a hot date with Darien (“and yes, it is the same Darien that Rei dated.”). It had rendered her speechless for a good thirty seconds before she squealed her delight and promptly tried to squeeze all the oxygen from my lungs. After gushing about how I’d managed to snag a date with “Dreamboat Darien,” she’d then grabbed my arm and hauled me into my room. It wasn’t long before she started to throw random outfits at me.
Telling her had left me feeling as if a great load had been lifted from my shoulders. It wasn’t as if I could hide it from her forever. Not Mina who seemed more like my other half as the years flew by. Knowing someone since preschool sure had its disadvantages. And okay so I wasn’t completely truthful with Mina. But Darien and I were going on a date. A half-truth was still a truth until one got caught in the lie.
That was three hours ago and I was starting to get a headache from all the outfit changes. Really, did it matter what I wore to a gallery opening?
“Mina,” I wailed, “I’m hungry!” I couldn’t help but pout at her back, trying out my best puppy look -the one I learned from her.
Her head still stuck in my slightly cramped closet, she dismissed my complaint of hunger with a wave of her hand.
“Mina!” I tried again, my stomach growling its own form of protest at this injustice of being denied food it so evidently craved. Clothes could wait, but hunger waited for no man.
It was a good thing that Darien knew how to cook or this regular dating and staying over at his place thing wouldn’t have worked out so well.
And unless he wanted me to burn down his kitchen he’d keep me as far away from the stove and all flammable materials. Well at least I wasn’t as bad as Mina who managed to kill our first toaster.
I sighed deprecatingly. And Lita had brought over a really good pot roast earlier. My mouth watered as I started to imagine what it’d feel like to finally sink my teeth into that-
My stomach growling interrupted my thoughts. I patted it wearily.
“Mina!” I wailed in despair.
Her head finally peeked out the closet, her blonde hair in disarray, her blue eyes, so identical to my own, sparkled with excitement.
“Try this on!” She treaded through the piles of clothing that littered the floor and shoved the clothes into my wanting hands where I was perched on my pink Hello Kitty duvet.
“I’ll go get the food. If you’re not dressed by the time I could back…I’ll eat it right in front of you.”
Mina could be so cruel at times.
“You’d better try it on with one of my black boots!” she yelled from the kitchen.
Staring at the all black assemble in my hand, I sighed heavily. The things I was willing to do for food.
~*~*~
If there’s one thing I should have learned by now, it was the fact that there was one too many art galleries in this city. But this street that Darien had chosen to have his galley opening on was notoriously known for having way too many for its own good. It wasn’t long before I began to wonder how anyone could actually have chosen to have an art gallery in this side of town of all places.
Walking around for what seemed like hours, I could not seem to find the place of Darien’s solo gallery opening. I knew it was on this street and asking pedestrians for directions had only turned out to be one of my not too bright ideas. Tourists were so confusing.
Finally, I spotted a police officer and with a few politely placed questions I was finally on my way.
The gallery was nothing like I had expected. It wasn’t being held in a particularly large building. In fact, the building was another non-descriptive brownstone structure surrounded by beautiful storefronts. It could easily be overlooked. And there was no signs out front proclaiming Darien’s presence. If there’d been a big fat sign that read: “The sexy man-beast Darien Shields is in this building, come one, come all”, I’m sure I would have found it before. Some of these storefronts looked deceptively familiar.
I shrugged off my irritation and walked up the narrow stairway to the third floor. The doors leading to the gallery were wide open. After entering the cream colored hallway, I followed it into the main gallery.
I was shocked by the fact that there were a lot of elegantly dressed people there. It hadn’t occurred to me that people would actually like Darien’s photographs. After all, they were only pictures.
Finding Darien turned out to be harder than I had first thought. He seemed to be everywhere at once, talking to everyone that had come out to see his art work. I had a hard time thinking of this as his working space. That his photographs would actually be bought at high prices by these art fiends. That he’d easily make a cool ten thousand by the end of the night. That woman had been right in telling me that I couldn’t afford him.
Watching him work was stranger than watching him pin up pictures in his studio, where he would get an intense look of concentration on his face as if finding the perfect place for that particular photograph was all that mattered in the world. No, this was different, weird because it felt as if he were selling himself to these people. His creations, I’ve come to believe, were a part of him and each one that I saw being sold, each one was a piece of himself being sold off.
I shook my head, not liking these thoughts. They made no sense, but I could not shake off the feeling of dread that accompanied them.
I decided to walk around. After all, that’s what everyone else was doing. Grabbing hold of a champagne flute, I began my walk around the room, giving each black and white photograph only a cursory look over. Wanting to know which one he had wanted me to see.
Then I saw it.
It was hard not to gasp in shock. On one the wall, isolated from the rest, there was a large blown up picture of a girl lounging on a sofa, with one stocking clad leg tucked beneath her and the other dangling in front of her; her head was cocked to the side, her long pink and white ribboned hair spilling onto the floor. A dainty pair of white Mary Jane shoes was strapped on one visible foot, adorned with a little pink bow. It was the only colored picture in his entire collection. What fascinated me the most was not the fact that the girl was outfitted in a pink Lolita-styled dress with satin lace frills and ribbons that made her alabaster skin seem flushed and as rosy as the outfit she was in. No what drew me in, what made me move closer to the photograph was that look on her face.
A picture, they say, can speak a thousand words, with her sinfully pouting lips and half-lidded eyes she looked wanton, seductive and I could not see her as me, no matter how much we looked alike. But the girl in the picture, if she could have laughed, would have and informed me, while wagging a well-manicured finger, that self-deception came at a price.
Even now I could still remember how nervous I had been stepping into his studio for the first time. My eyes hadn’t known where to look and in my nervous state, I ended up looking at the furniture. There hadn’t been much aside from a few stools, lighting equipment, and some backdrops. If it hadn’t been for his prompts, my eyes would never have dared to travel to the stark white walls decorated by hundred of color and black-and-white prints. They hung on the walls some framed, some matted, but most were just held up by pushpins.
I could still remember when he had taken this picture. How he had seduced me into wearing the outfit and managed to get me to agree on letting him take a picture. Looking at said picture now, I wished I had said no, but even then I could not seem to refuse him anything.
“My muse,” the words were whispered into my ear and I could not hold back a shiver of delight. Darien had an arm wrapped around my waist and his body’s heat seemed to sear me like a brand. I relaxed into his touch, always wanting more. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.” I sighed, biting my lip, “is this what you wanted me to see?”
He playfully nipped at my ear. “If I say yes?”
“Well, I don’t know?” I scrunched my face, trying to find something to say that didn’t make me sound like a fool. “That girl in the picture, she doesn’t seem like me, you know?”
“She is you.”
“No she’s not! Just look at her.” I was getting a bit angry. I didn’t want to think that I could actually look like that: wanton, coquettish-
“She looks like a tramp.” That voice filled with such disdain. I’d know it anywhere.
I shook Darien’s hand from my waist and tried hard not to swallow, to not fear actually turning around. Of all the people I could have run into here, she just had to be it. This was God’s way of punishing me. I just knew it.
“No, she’s more beautiful this way.” Darien was smirking, his eyes turning into cold marble as he turned to face Rei. He put an arm around my waist, pulling me closer even as I tried to put distance between us.
“Hey Rei. Fancy seeing you here.” I looked at her from under my eyelashes, hoping she wouldn’t make a scene.
Dressed in a red sweater and black jacket and dress pants, she looked like the fiery beauty she’d always been. She looked like the woman I always thrived to be and knew I failed at being. Hanging off Chad’s arm (boyfriend or conquest, I never knew what he was to her, but she had wanted him and sure enough, he was hers) her raven black hair was fashioned into a loose bun. She had a slight smile adorning her lips even as she leaned in to kiss my cheek. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. She was acting as if it wasn’t an abnormal to find Darien and I together.
“Yes, it’s nice to see you, too Serena.” Though she said it amicably, a part of me knew she hardly meant it. She was giving me that look. The one she gave when she thought I was up to something. “I didn’t know you liked Darien’s art.”
Darien’s grip on my waist tightened, his stance became defensive as he steadily gazed at Rei. I lowered my head staving off a blush. “He’s a great photographer.”
Chad nodded in agreement. “I saw your nature exhibit once.”
A tense silence soon followed as Rei continued to look at the blown up photograph of me. Once in a while, she gaze would stray to Darien and then her eyes would become unreadable. And though he had struck up a conversation with Chad, he stayed close to me, his grip on my waist never loosening. He didn’t seem to want to leave me alone or sense that being this close to me was causing Rei to get suspicious. I didn’t want her suspicious.
I began to feel awkward. Looking at my feet and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot wasn’t my idea of fun and Rei didn’t look as if she would leave anytime soon.
I sighed, knowing I’d lost this battle. I didn’t want to fight for Darien, that’s what it all came down to if I thought about it. I didn’t want to cause a scene or have Rei be angry with me. Yes we quarreled like children from time to time, but Rei never stayed mad for too long. If she found out that I’d betrayed her in this way, it would end our friendship.
My mind made up, I excused myself when I saw that Darien became distracted. If he knew that I was leaving because of Rei, he’d find a way to make me stay.
Getting away undetected seemed easier than I thought. But before I could even make it to the door, a hand clasped on my elbow, pulling me to a stop.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the words came out like an angry hiss, breathed into my ear and as always, I couldn’t help but shiver. Knowing that Darien was that close sent my pulsing racing.
“I’m going home,” I answered, lowering my head. His smooth lips followed my movement.
“I thought you came to see my show.”
“I did. I came, I saw and now I’m leaving.”
His lips brushed against my racing pulse. My legs wobbled and I began to feel faint. His grip on my arm tightened and I gasped. “You’re staying.”
“Yes,” I whimpered, feeling his teeth scrape against my heated flesh, “I’m staying.”
~*~*~
It’s girls’ night out and Lita’s letting us get drunk for free. Did I mention how much I loved her? Because really, I do.
As another round of shots was ordered, Amy, our designated driver (that’s if and only if Mina hasn’t found a way to spike her drink), led us from the bar toward the table she had managed to find us. This was strategic on her part because it was in one of the few corners of the club where Mina’s drunken silly antics wouldn’t draw too much attention.
When inebriated, Mina became needy.
As soon as we were seated, she began to babble incoherent things while her head rested on my shoulder. I stroked her hair after every pause in her long winded speech about why penguins would one day rule the world, if only to reassure her that I was paying some form of attention to her.
It wasn’t long before someone we all recognized came by with our drinks. Mina gulped hers down with a loud cheer and following her example the rest of us downed ours.
We were all too quickly becoming intoxicated.
Rei leaned across Mina -who had by this time managed to wrap herself around me and would most likely fall asleep if left to her own devices-to whisper in my ear, “Guess who I ran into yesterday?”
Pulling Mina’s head to rest on my chest, I turned my head to stare at Rei quizzically. We were in a quieter part of the club, where the music still reached us, but the noise level was decent enough to hold a conversation.
Rei was wearing a sly smirk. It made her look mean and made the hairs on the back of my neck rise in apprehension. It’s only been a week since our run in at the art gallery. She hadn’t brought the subject up and I had thought she had forgotten. How wrong I was.
When I don’t answer, she becomes distracted, begins playing with strands of her long black hair. “Who?” I finally ventured to ask.
“Darien, of course.”
When drunk, Rei could become one of two things: a brooding drunk who spent most of the night staring at her drink as if it held all the answers in the universe or a mean drunk. I guess meanie was coming out to play.
“Oh” is all I can say as the implications behind her words began to drive me to imagine scenarios of her and Darien together.
Ignoring me, she continued to talk, still absentmindedly fingering her hair. “He bought me coffee and we talked about old times.”
“That’s nice.” I managed to choke out.
“It was. Reminiscing with him made me realize how much I miss him.”
I don’t answer.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we got back together?”
I tried to shut her out. The one arm I had around Mina’s waist tightened. I lowered my eyes to the contemplation of my drink only to find it empty.
I had to get away from Rei and her words.
In a flustered voice, I muttered, “going to get more drinks.”
Mina made her displeasure known and looked at me with hurt marring eyes that looked too much like mine as I disentangle myself from her.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, giving her head a quick pat as I made my way towards humanity.
The club was packed with bodies. The flashing neon lights made everything seem surreal and as I made my way towards the bar, a sense of claustrophobia engulfed me.
It wasn’t long before I found the bar and squeezed my way into a stool. Tapping my nails against the glass, I waited for a bartender to notice me. If Seiya was working tonight, I’d already have my drink. He had an uncanny sense when it came to knowing I was around.
"Water?" Someone asked from behind the counter.
I laughed as the bartender wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.
"Tequila. Straight." I told her.
It wasn’t Seiya, not this time, but I still knew who she was. She slid the shot down the counter towards me. I caught it, downed it without a thought. The taste had me grasping for breath. I coughed the effect off and ordered another one. What was the point of coming to a bar if I couldn’t get drunk?
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before setting my empty glass before me and waited for a refill.
It was easy to turn a speculative eye toward my drink. Who knew, maybe those contemplative drunks were right in thinking that it might hold the answers to all internal wars and important things like where all my missing socks went after I placed them in the dryer. Damn it, I haven’t worn clean socks in days.
A tap on my shoulder startled me out of my prosaic reflections.
“I feel abandoned. Wanna dance?”
Now even girls were hitting on me. A refusal on the tip of m tongue, I looked up.
It was Mina and I couldn’t refuse. She downed my next shot and dragged me off the stool without a second of hesitation.
~*~*~
Still inebriated and tittering, Mina and I left the Underground with arms wrapped around each other’s waists. How we both managed the task of getting ourselves to our apartment without incident was still unknown to me, but somehow we managed to make it without a scratch. Once we managed to blindly stumble into the still dark apartment, Mina drunkenly made her way to bed. Cursing as she bumped into the wall for the third time, she mumbled about beauty sleep and about how the wall was trying to eat her.
I stayed up longer than I thought was possible. My mind in a clouded alcohol induced haze, brooding about Rei’s words.
To most people they were probably just that: words. But to me, it had induced a sense of urgency, of doubt that only highly insecure girlfriends like me hadn’t known they could possess. What if she were telling the truth? That she and Darien were somehow going to get back together again? Darien wasn’t the cheating type. I knew that…but what if it were true. What if she knew where he lived? What if she’d been in that space that I thought I was the only one privileged to know?
Love is a foolish thing, and because we are human we are susceptible to things like doubt, jealousy and envy when one thought themselves madly in love. I was madly in love and drunk out of my mind, two things that shouldn’t ever be mixed.
As the night wore on, my drunken paranoia increased and I did the only thing I could do: I called Darien.
Since the beginning of time, the idea of drunk-dialing has been highly frowned upon. But there I was, after having taken off most of my clothes to relieve that annoying feeling of being uncomfortable within my own skin, a cell phone clutched within my shaking grip and three shots of tequila still running rampant within my bloodstream. Though my fingers shook slightly and my slumbering conscience located somewhere at the back of my mind made a silly attempt of stirring itself awake, I still managed to dial his number.
I got his answering machine.
Phrases like ‘why do you do this to me?’ and ‘aren’t I good enough?’ found themselves being repeated over and over in my message. How I wanted nothing more than not sounding like a pathetically jealous and insecure girlfriend, but I knew I fit the bill.
At some point during the call, it crossed my mind that I might live to regret this drunken tirade once I sobered up in the morning. I did the only sensible thing in a situation like that: I hung up.
Sleep refused to come and after tossing restlessly on the couch in confused anger, came the pitifully exhausting tears. And with me, tears came much easier than I’d like to admit once the floodgates were open.
Hours later, I was still sleeping on the couch. I woke up to the shrill ringing of the telephone. I felt exhausted beyond belief and the pounding headache that made itself known as soon as I lifted my head, wasn’t helping the situation either. But I was sober enough to realize that familiar ringing was indeed a telephone-and not the doorbell- and blindly fumbled for it.
Picking it up, I mumbled a groggy “hello” and hoped that whoever was on the other line would say what they had to already so I could go back to sleep. All this waiting was making me hungry.
“Sere?”
Placing the cordless to my ear I stumbled into the kitchen trying to find anything edible that Lita might have bought over. That was one of the major disadvantages of living with someone else who had no idea how to cook: there was never enough food to go around. If it weren’t for Lita, Mina and I would have starved to death a long time ago, eating only ramen and take-out.
I stopped in front of the fridge, Darien’s voice froze me.
“Dare?” What was he doing calling so early in the morning?
“I got your messages.” Silence. “All ten of ‘em actually.”
“Messages?” I don’t remember calling him at all. What was he talking about? “What do you mean?”
“Serena, you called me last night.”
Oh shit.
It was all coming back to me. I knew it’d been a bad idea. This is what I get for not listening to my brain. It knew more than I did. Of course it did.
“Yeah…about that.” I nervously began.
He cut me off before I could make more of a fool of myself. “You really shouldn’t let Rei get to you. You should know that there’s nothing going on between us.”
Of course I knew that, but the way she’d said it…as if she could get Darien back any time she wanted and I wouldn’t stand a chance…it hadn’t sounded like bragging to me.
“I know that.” I said, pouting like a petulant child. It wasn’t as if I didn’t believe him.
“Come over tomorrow,” he ordered in his silky smooth voice. “If that’s what’s going to show you that Rei and I are long since over…come over tomorrow.”
“I will.” And if she’s there when I get there, I mentally added…I’ll deal with that later.
[mood|
frustrated]
[text| Law of the Blood: Companions by Susan Sizemore]