A Nice Guy

22

It's been nearly a week since Angel caught us. Six days of pure agony, not knowing what the fuck was happening, what was going to happen, to us. Hazel and I. I keep thinking we may never see each other again. It makes my stomach ache just thinking about the possibility. I can't let that happen, I won't. So I finally cave. I text her, instantly regretting it of course. Instantly feeling like I just made shit so much fucking worse.

It wasn't a lengthy text or anything. I just asked her if we could talk, that's all. And yet, it still feels like I said too much. The text doesn't go through, though. She blocked my number. Of course she did. Fuck. I start shaking; mostly in fear, because I'll go absolutely feral if I can't see her anymore, but also in fucking rage. Why am I being punished for something we both did? What's her punishment in this scenario? She gets to keep us a secret, pretend the baby is Derrick's, act like nothing happened. It's not fucking fair.

So, like before, I follow her to the mall. I've kept notes on when she leaves the house and for what purposes. She likes to go shopping on Mondays while Derrick is at work. Monday's because the mall isn't so busy and while he's at work because she probably gets lonely in that huge house of theirs, poor thing. I'll keep her company.

Angel has been staying with their parent's. Couldn't imagine why that is. Stupid bitch. Couldn't mind her own business, had to pretend she's a fucking detective and ruin everything. I could've milked that apology sex Hazel was throwing at me for at least another week, maybe two weeks tops. Could've been the best sex of my fucking life, and she just had to ruin it.

I'm parked a few spots away from Hazel, close enough to watch her, far enough to do it comfortably. And by 'it', I mean stroke my dick in my car as she slowly, teasingly, drags a fresh coat of lip gloss across her lips. It's like she knows I'm watching her, the way she's taking her sweet time.

She rubs her lips together and I cum all over my hand, stifling a moan. I think to myself; if this is what the rest of my life consists of I'll be a happy man. Post nut clarity quickly brings me back to fucking reality, though. The reality of this not being nearly enough of her for me, not in the slightest.

I grab a napkin, clean myself off, try to catch my breath. I watch her leave her car and head towards the mall, so I do the same. She visits the same store as last time, but I know I can't bump into her the same way, that'd be too coincidental, too obvious that I knew she was shopping there. So I decide to sit down at the food court instead and enjoy some lunch. I know she'll spot me here on her way out. I'm sitting close to the exit, she'll have to see me when she walks by.

Half an hour passes before I spot her walking my direction. I'm trying my best to scroll through my phone, as if I didn't notice her. She's about five feet from me when she realizes who I am. She stops walking and just looks at me, like she's frozen. I glance over my phone and our eyes meet. Time to act surprised to see her at the very place I followed her to.

I contort my face, acting shocked to see her. Place my phone down on the table. "Hazel? What are you—how are you?" I ask, smiling. The smile is genuine, though. I'm happy to see her, to be able to talk to her. She doesn't answer my question, though. Just continues to stare at me. "Please, sit," I tell her, standing to pull out the opposite chair. "Let's talk." She reluctantly sits. Doesn't utter a word. I don't know what to do with that; she's making me anxious.

I smile again. "So uh, how is everything?"

Finally she averts her gaze, now staring down at the table. "Everything's great," she says, blankly. "After Angel walked in on us, I told her everything." She looks up at me. "Everything."

I laugh. I mean, why she would want to tell her sister the details of her affair is beyond my understanding. I can't help but wonder why she would put so much emphasis on the word "everything" though. As in, she went into detail about the sex? Told her how fucking good it was? I bet she wanted to make her jealous.

I notice she's glaring at me now. My smile disappears. Fuck. I'm messing it up already, I shouldn't have laughed. Obviously she's trying to be serious right now. "I'm sorry. What do you mean by everything?" I ask.

She leans in close. Like, right in front of my fucking face, close. I can smell the spearmint in her breath. The rose scented perfume on her skin. I notice her cleavage hanging out of her shirt, refusing to be hidden. I stare at her lips; pink and shiny with that pretty gloss she rubbed all over them. I watch them as she answers my question in a hushed voice. "I told her how you fucking raped me."