Two Punks In Love

Miscommunication

Kat

Trace is rubbing my back, gently shaking me awake. I twist in his arms him and find my lips pressed against his neck. This tour bus bunk is so much more comfortable than most...and he hasn't touched me like this in a long time...

"Kat..."

"Trace..."

He smells good. Different, because he quit smoking, but good. Clean. Like old trees in older mountains. Its that designer soap I gave him for Christmas...I nip and suck at his throat...

"Kat!"

He sounds weird. For some strange reason, his voice has deepened from its usual tenor but it's not his sexy deep voice. He sounds alarmed—

Everything shifts, and I jerk awake, suddenly terrified that the bus is crashing. Then I wish I were on a tour bus and it had crashed, because it would be a less terrible scenario than this.

I am not in a tour bus bunk with Trace, I am on Colin's couch. Everything shifted, because Colin just fell off the damn thing. He's sitting on the floor, a hand wrapped around the side of his throat, a look of complete dismay on his face. Whether the dismay is from the fall or because I just tried to give him a hickey, I'm not sure.

"Oh...my...god...why do you use Baxter soap!?!?" I scream at him.

"It's my favorite," he replies blankly. Then, realization dawns. "Oh. It's Trace's brand? I smell like him? You thought—"

"No, he smells like cigarettes, almost always," I hiss, then, "Jesus Cols, it costs like twenty dollars a bar!" I'm crawling off the couch, making my way through his bedroom.

He follows me into the bathroom. "Is there a law that says I can't buy expensive soap just because I'm not a rock star? I played in the NFL for two years. I invested very well. You think I'm not ballin' just because I live in a condo instead of a compound, and I fly commercial instead of—"

He stops talking when I start vomiting.

"That's flattering, Kat. I honestly didn't think I could feel any shittier..."

"Shut-up!" I sob, then I gag again in the toilet, then, "Get out!" I'm crying and wretching and I have never felt so...ashamed and miserable in my entire life. I turn from the toilet and cling to the large tubwall, sobbing. 

He shuts up, but he does not get out. He brings me a glass of water and a wet cloth. Then he proceeds to inspect his neck in the mirror.

"I don't think you left a mark," he smirks. There is however, a red mark that makes me want to vomit again, but there's nothing left. I cling to the toilet—thank God Colin is a clean freak—and dry heave.

"Want me to hold your hair?"

I shake my head. "My purse...there's some Zofran..."

He dutifully retrieves the nauseau medication. It dissolves under the tongue and acts fast. I lie on the floor and wait to feel human.

Eventually the nauseau fades but I wouldn't say the feeling of humanity returns. I feel like something gross and disgusting that crawls in the ground. A slug. Or an earthworm.

Colin is sitting on the side of the tub, watching me I know, but I refuse to return his gaze.

"Kat, it's  not that big of a deal. Obviously I realize you were dreaming, you weren't fully aware of what you were doing..."

Is this how it happened? To Trace and Ashlynn? Did they fall asleep together on that damn purple couch, wake wrapped in each other's arms? Did lips find lips in the dark and before either of them fully decided, did hips meet hips? Did they make love and decide it was the biggest mistake they'd made since they married in the first place? Did they make some kind of pact to nullify it, pretend like it never happened? Did they lie to me and Leed all these years?