Joe just kept staring at the ceiling, noticing a mouldy spot in the corner, it happens when you live in a shitty apartment. He tried to ignore the more then likely unsatisfied woman next to him. Feeling her shift in the bed awkwardly as she covered herself.
'I just saw every inch of you.. and now your covering yourself?'
He felt like a dork, like he hadn't had sex before. This was embarrassing. He almost appreciated her silence. Honestly it couldn't get worse, he came in two thrusts and eight seconds.. and was a big baby about it, like it was the best sex of his life. While she just lay there, unsatisfied.. hardly impressed. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she was meant to scream his name, break the bed.. like in his fantasy's. She hadn't even looked over at him, he couldn't get the surprised look out of his face. Like 'did he really cum already? Who does this guy think he is?'
He was thinking, still staring at the ceiling, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed, at least she's not making this more awkward.
'It happens'
'It happens!?'
He didn't have some erectile distinction, oh god, she made it sound like he was-
He was- a horny nerd. How embarrassing.
'I killed a man for you, and I can't even keep it in long enough to satisfy you? I'm the man of your dreams Ella and- did she just punch my shoulder? Like chums?'
Joe still refused to look over at her, not helping the awkward situation they were both left in. He felt the bed dip slightly as she sat up.
'Was she leaving? Is she that mad?'
He looked over as she beant down to grab a shirt, looking away before her head popped through the hole. He didn't say anything as she excused herself. She took her phone, 'is she going to message her friends about this? Am I going to be known as eight second Joe?'
Joe sat up, sliding off of the bed quietly and grabbing his boxer shorts. There was a wet patch on the bed, but he would choose to deal with that later, shrugging on his pants. Before rubbing his face.
What was he supposed to do now? Small talk? Maybe he should just leave... but this was his apartment. He could still leave, Mexico is nice this time around.
He watched the bathroom door, she'd been in there a while. Was she hiding from him? He hung his head slightly before shrugging a shirt on, he collected the rest of Ella's clothes for her, it was the least he could do.. well second least.With a sigh he moved, sitting on the couch. Yes, it felt good, amazing, for him. She got nothing, he wanted to give her everything. He heard the bathroom door open and went slightly ridged.
He checked his phone, she hadn't messaged anyone, but she did get a message from tinder.. god, was she going to use some jockstrap with arms to finish what he couldn't?
One hundred and one ways to feel less like a man. If it was a book, Joe was sure he'd be the first page.
He tried to play it cool, but really, he was pissed off, at himself, at her tinder, and why was it still on her phone?
Joe rubbed his hands on his legs, "agh, actually maybe you should go," he said quietly, he didn't want to be mad at her, it was his fault, but the night was ruined, and he had dishes to do.
He grabbed her clothes, handing them to her, a hand moving to the small of her back as he guided her out the door. It was a shit thing to do, a douche thing, fuck, a Benji thing to do.. but he didn't care, not right now. He didn't say anything when he slammed the door after her. Leaning against the door as he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck Joe!" He whispered.
"Paco! What did I tell you about these damn books," the man currently shoving Paco into the apartment stopped and looked at Ella, giving Paco one last shove before waltzing over to her, "so he's getting himself prostitutes now huh," he questioned, a gruff look on his face, "there's kids in this building, never liked the guy, you just watch out," he pointed, "he likes to buy duct tape, propane," he mumbled, turning away from her, "Says it's for the back garden, funny cause I ain't seen him out there once," he scoffs, "he's a creep, and unless you wanna end up like one of those ladies on the news, I'd stop taking him as a client, trust me sweetheart, I'm an ex cop, the fifty bucks he's paying you, ain't worth," he warned. His voice was judgmental, scary, but his concern for her was genuine. He gave her one last look before opening the apartment door and slamming it behind him. Muffled arguing, presumably Paco getting into trouble started sounding from behind the thin walls.
*
Joe was up early the next morning, he'd been scrolling through that damn usb on his laptop most of the night, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was a horny douchebag. What made him madder was the fact that this juicy usb labeled Ella was the sweetest gift ever. It had strategically labelled letters for her to read, poems, and photos. All put together with so much time. Joe assumed it was some sort of grand gesture that he never have her. He wasn't some monster, he was in love. But he was in love with Ella. And Ella was his.
Joe changed into a white tshirt, blue button up and tan jacket. Shoving on a dark blue cap and heading out the door. He needed to get back into Evans house, well Marcos house. There was something he needed, he wanted. Evan talked about a diary in one of his poems to Ella, about how he would write when they first met, the things she loved, he even pressed leaves from every-time they went out to Central Park. It was exhausting, 'honestly Ella he's obsessed?'
He noted that Paco wasn't outside today, which was a concerning, but Ron could be out, Pacos mom was nice, he'd only seen her once, with a bruised eye, but Paco admired her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down. This diary could be his last chance to truly connect to Ella.
**
*
Blythe leant against the bookshop counter, watching Ethan work, she loved when he worked, he looked so focused, but after the Whole laptop incident, he seemed disheartened, and Blythe knew, she saw the laptop, he had it, so she started her own investigation, when they were.. being intimate, she saw the laptop in his bag. And that morning, the window was open. Which was weird, she'd never leave it open. And she also found a single black curly hair.
Ethan's hair was black, but not this curly, this curl was tight, and that window was small. And she new a small skinny man with curly tight hair, and she hated him.
So she texted Ella, thanks to Ethan who had her number.
"We need to talk," Blythe.
