What Do You Mean?

Chapter 3

"B...." I call out when I move to throw my arm around her but find her side of the bed empty. The sheets are cold so she's probably been up for a while. "B...." I yell a little louder "Where you at?"

I'm met with silence once again. She's probably downstairs. My phone isn't where it usually is on the end table. A brief flash of a memory pops into my head, the sound of it hitting the floor when I shoved a tangle of sheets over. She kept nestling her face into them, trying to stay quiet, and obviously I wasn't having any of that shit. I reach down, feel around for it and then grab it from under the bed when my fingers brush over the screen

"Come back to bed, baby...." I text her "I was just thinking about fucking you last night, now my dick's hard. Come up and help me out with that."

I can picture her reaction as clearly as if she were standing in front of me. She'll blush a little, and shake her head, but she'll come up. I won't have to ask twice.

"That's hot as fuck." She texts back after a minute or two "Unfortunately, I'm not even home you nerd. Guess you're gonna have to wait. Or do something about it all by yourself."

I roll over with groan and pull the covers over my head (it's too damn bright in here) taking the phone with me "Shit ain't even right, B. Where are you anyway?"

"Had some errands to run, I left early. Didn't want to wake you."

"Fiiiiiiiine," I reply, adding extra i's with feigned annoyance and then take a pouty selfie to send to her to prove how sad I am without her.

"You're adorable. I'll be home in an hour or two. Betty's got Lyric, go back to sleep for a while and I'll wake you up when I get home. Love you."

I toss my phone aside and pull myself up, rubbing my eyes, trying to wake up a little more. It's too early for me to be up, especially on a day where I have nothing planned, but I'll never get back to sleep now.

We've been back home in LA for a minute, and since the night of our huge fight over her photo-shoot, things have been good. Really good, actually. I know when I've been a dick and need to make things right. If only I could figure out how to not be a dick in the first place. In keeping with my 'please forgive me and forget what an idiot I am' crusade, I decide to shower and plan something fun for the three of us to surprise her with when she gets back.

"Damn it!" I drop my head in irritation a few minutes later when I realize my shampoo bottle is completely empty. After shaking it around a couple times stupidly, as if more will magically appear, I slip out of the warm water raining down on me and stalk over to the cabinet to grab a fresh bottle, dripping water all over the pristine tile along the way.

"Jesus Christ..." I shake my head when I yank the cabinet door open. There's got to be at least a hundred damn bottles in here of various shapes, sizes and colors. "What the fuck is all this, B?" I ask even though she can't hear me "Who needs this much shit?"

Taking my time has never been something I'm the greatest at, so rather than picking through them carefully, I just dive in. Knocking half of them over like bowling pins as I look for what I'm after. Bobbi would give me hell about making a mess of things, and once again, she would be right because the next thing I know, a tall can of hairspray crashes into the tiny trash can beside it, spilling little boxes, tissues, and empty toilet paper rolls at my feet. "Fucking seriously?" Now I'm highly annoyed, but I have no one but myself to be annoyed with. I start grabbing shit up, shoving it back into the trash blindly, but come to a screeching, frozen halt when I notice the box that predominately displays a pregnancy test and the promise of being the most accurate test on the market.

"What the fuck?" I snatch it up in my shaking hands and hear something rattling around inside. I turn it upside down and catch the actual test in my hands when it slides out. A bright blue plus sign sits clear and undeniable in the little window.