A Nice Guy

28

On the way back to Anna's place, I stop by the office to retrieve my phone. I've got a few texts from Anna, some texts from other friends, and a single text from Derrick. I stare at his name on my lock screen. I don't bother to unlock my phone to read any of the messages. I've got shit to do.

By the time I'm back at Anna's, it's 3p.m. Somehow I have to convince this crazy bitch that we should go over to Derrick and Hazel's house for a party in three hours. What a fucking task indeed. I stand at the door for a minute, preparing myself. Trying to plan out what I should say, how I should act. My palms are moist with an anxious sweat. Suddenly, the door opens and she's standing in front of me.

Of course she'd been tracking my location and knew I was back before I could even grab the doorknob. She smiles at me, throwing her arms around my body. She tells me how much she's missed me while I've been gone at work. I clench my teeth. "I missed you too, babe."

She pulls me inside and guides me to the couch, forcing me to sit down. She starts rubbing my shoulders as she stands behind me. "So, how was your day?" She asks. I think about my day, trying to create an appropriate answer, but all I picture is Hazel. I gulp.

"It was good—boring, but good. Uh—so Derrick texted me today, asked me to come over later. Well, you and I. He's throwing a party, everyone's going to be there." I squeeze my knees, avoiding her gaze as I wait for her to protest. I know it's coming.

She pulls her hands away from my shoulders and walks around the couch, now looming over me. "Oh, really?" She asks sarcastically. "A party at Derrick's house. Derrick's and Hazel's house. I don't think so," she laughs, crossing her arms. "You know how I feel about her." I'm not at all surprised by her response. In fact, I anticipated it. I know how to change her mind, though.

I roll my shoulders and relax into the couch. "Yeah, I know. It's not ideal, but I guess it's a party for me. Like, a birthday party or something." I pause, looking up at her. "It's no big deal though. We definitely don't have to go." Just as I planned, her arms fall to her side and she's got this apologetic expression now.

She takes a seat next to me. "Alex, I didn't even know it was your birthday. Why didn't you tell me?"

I rest my hand on the side of my neck. I take in a shaky breath. "I try not to tell many people, mostly because it's a pretty depressing day for me," I explain , glancing at her from the corner of my eye. "Three years ago today, my mom passed away from cancer. That's why Derrick wants me to go over there, he knows I need the distraction." Okay, so maybe that's a lie. But she did die from cancer. It just wasn't on my birthday, not even close.

She raises her brows, lets out a gasp, covers her mouth with her hand. She hugs me, tells me she's so sorry. I hug her back, grinning. "It's okay, really. Don't worry about it. And honestly, if you don't want to go over to Derrick's house then we can just stay in tonight," I tell her.

I feel her shake her head in disagreement. "No, no. It's fine. It's your birthday. We can do whatever you want." Bingo.

Whatever I want. Yeah, of course we can. I do that anyways, but hearing her say it gives me some sort of fucking high. She starts to peck at my neck, soon loosening my tie and trailing her kisses down to my collarbone. I don't want to have sex with her, I really don't. But my dick isn't listening to me, not in the slightest.

Speaking of my dick, she's got it in her hand now, jerking me off. I guess this is her way of trying to make me feel better about my dead mom. A distraction is a distraction, after all. I close my eyes, imagining Hazel in some of that lingerie from earlier. I think about the way she giggled, the way she smelled...the way she felt. It makes me fucking feral.

I grab her wrist, and in one swift motion I've got her face pressed into the cushion with one hand and her wrist pinned against her back with the other. I let her breathe just long enough to grab her shorts and pull them down to her knees, forcing her head down into the sofa again immediately afterwards.

I huff in amusement as she struggles; attempting to pull my hand away from the back of her head with her free hand. I scrunch a fistful of her hair, threading it between my fingers, and jerk her head back, letting her breathe again. She tells me to stop, but I know she doesn't mean it. After all, she's the one that said we can do whatever I want.