A Nice Guy

26

After leaving my phone at the office, I drive to the nearest hotel and buy a room just to sleep for a few more hours. I'm exhausted. My day doesn't need to start so early, anyways. What I have planned doesn't require me to be awake until around ten.

Well, maybe eleven. I overslept. When I wake up, I look at the digital clock that's sitting on the nightstand next to me. I groan, rubbing my eyes, and finally get out of bed. I check out of the hotel and return to my car. It's June 9th. Monday. My birthday. I'm thirty today. What an awful realization.

I drive to the mall. Yeah, yeah. You know the deal by now. I'll remind you anyways in case you forgot, though. Hazel goes to the mall every Monday to shop, and when I'm having trouble speaking to her in person, I'll bump into her while she's there. This will be the last time, though. Soon I won't need to be coincidentally bumping into her in order to talk to her, no, I'll be living with her. Or, she'll be living with me. Whatever.

I don't spot her car in the parking lot. At first, this worries me, makes me think I missed her. Even then, I park my car and head inside. I'll shop around in that store she likes so much, and hopefully she'll end up strolling in to shop around herself. She'll see me, and ask where I've been, why she hasn't heard from me, if I'm upset with her. I know her all too well.

Every twenty minutes I check my watch, only to realize that only five minutes have passed, not twenty. It feels like twenty, though. I've looked through the same clothes probably fifty times. I'm not actually looking, though. It's more like I'm trying to occupy my hands with a task in order to calm my nerves; pushing hangers back and forth to see what's hung on them, lifting shirts from piles in order to properly look at them, as if I give a fuck.

I'm holding a maternity shirt in front of me when I feel someone's sudden presence. I look to my left, only to jump at the sight of her. Of course it's her, though, I knew she'd come. I take a moment to appreciate her effortless beauty before I say anything. Her hair is in a single braid, some pieces left out to frame her face as per usual. Her eyelashes are long and dark, her lips are pink and glossy. But what really grabs my attention is her stomach; she's nearly eight months pregnant now.

I carelessly throw the shirt to the side, smiling at the sight of our unborn child. "Wow, Hazel. You look amazing!" I can't even contain myself. I pull her into a hug, gently squeezing her body. I breathe in her scent. I've missed it so fucking much.

I hear her giggle at my excitement. I involuntarily shiver. "Thank you," she replies. I force myself to conclude the embrace, but I still hold her shoulders in front of me, taking another look at her. She's getting embarrassed now, though, and playfully pushes me away. "You're making me blush, cut it out," she giggles again. I could get intoxicated from the sound of her. "What are you doing here, anyways?" She looks me over. "You look like you should be at the office."

I shrug my shoulders. "Yeah, well, I wanted to get my best friend a baby shower gift, so I figured I'd step out during my lunch, grab her something nice. I'm just having trouble picking something out. Maybe you can help me." I smile at her, slightly raising my brows.

She smiles back and starts to twirl a piece of her hair around her finger. "I can definitely help with that. We might have to try a different section, though." She grabs my hand, guiding me to the opposite side of the store through a doorway. We're now in a tucked away room full of bras, panties, and lingerie.

I bite my cheek, attempting to control my thoughts. But one creeps in anyways. I'm thinking of how we could fuck in here without anyone knowing. A bulge forms in my pants as I picture myself thrusting my dick in and out of her on the bench that sits in the middle of the room. I bite my cheek harder, tasting blood.

"Whatever you want," I begin, "get whatever you want—everything. The whole room if you want, I don't care." She rolls her eyes at me, as if doubting what I'd said, and begins skimming through the lingerie hanging on the wall. I mean it though. I'd buy her everything in sight if she asked me to.

I watch her eye something, only to move on to the next shorty after. She does this a few times as I watch contently, standing with my hands in my pockets. She sighs, looking at me over her shoulder. "Shopping for me isn't how you should spend your birthday, you know."

I shrug my shoulders. "I think it's the best way to spend it."

She stares at me for a moment, then turns around. Walks over to me. Places her hand on my cheek. "There are better ways to celebrate," she tells me. I know what she's getting at. I can't entertain her, though. I bite my cheek once more, further opening the fresh wound. The metallic taste dances across my tongue.

I step away from her. It's not an easy task, but I manage to create a small space between us regardless of how badly I want to do the very opposite. She gives me a confused look. "Are you upset with me?" She asks, but she doesn't give me a chance to answer. She adjusts her glasses and looks down at the floor. "I'm so stupid, I'm sorry. No wonder I haven't heard from you lately. I never apologized for what happened before. You know, last time we were here at the mall together."

I shake my head. "That's not it, Hazel. I'm not mad at you—never was. Never could be." She doesn't answer. Just keeps looking down at the floor. "Hey," I take a step closer, then lift her chin up. Instinctively, I kiss her lips in the same motion. Fuck. I hastily step away once more. "I'm dating Anna again," I rush out. "We've been seeing each other for a few weeks now." She doesn't answer, just softly sucks her bottom lip. "That's why I haven't reached out to you," I continue. "It's not because I'm mad, I promise."

She gives me this sultry look that makes my knees fucking weak, and her eyes are telling me that she doesn't give a flying fuck about anything I just said. Again, she steps closer to me. She stands on her toes, raising her mouth to the nape of my neck. She whispers, "I like the taste of your lips."