The Pretend Girlfriend

Chapter Twenty Five~ This is It...

Closing the door to her apartment behind her, Gwen leaned against it. She buried her face in her hands, pulling her fingers down her cheeks. On one hand, things had gone extremely well. Shockingly so, even. Aiden had seduced her. Or had she seduced him? Maybe it was mutual. In any case, it really happened. The aches now flaring up around her body attested to that.

But then I had to open my big mouth, Gwen thought. At one point last night, Gwen thought that Aiden might actually ask her to leave. He'd been somewhat cold the rest of the night. Cold and withdrawn. Though she did have some pleasant memories of spooning during the night, waking up in his bed and realizing that yes, Aiden really was asleep next to her.

Getting to sleep proved to be somewhat difficult, as she felt terrified that she might snore. Or whisper more secrets into the darkness. When she woke up, she'd climbed out of bed as quietly as she could and snuck out of his condo. And now here she was, wearing the same wrinkled dress from yesterday.

She went into the kitchen, squinting when she turned on the light. A few dirty dishes cluttered the counter, and the place smelled vaguely of the half-empty bottle of lavender dish soap which sat beside the tap. Throwing a slice of bread into the toaster, she wished for the hundredth time that she'd just kept the truth to herself for a little bit longer. Aiden knew how to cook, he'd said. What sort of breakfast might he have made? Pancakes, Gwen bet. Nice fluffy, buttery pancakes.

The bread began toasting, filling the kitchen with what Gwen now considered a lackluster aroma. Lackluster compared to the gourmet pancakes that she was sure she was missing out on. Peanut butter toast in hand, she went to her room. More unpleasant sights greeted her there, from the pile of unopened, unstudied books, to her laptop and the incomplete essay, the messy bed, the pile of clothes...

Sighing, she sat at her desk and took out her phone. Should I try giving B another call? Gwen wondered. This was exactly the type of thing she'd want to talk about with her friend. But she doubted that B wanted to talk with her, yet. Another thing to throw on the heaping pile of things to do. There were so many things in that pile already that she expected an avalanche of overdue due dates, lost friendships, and squandered opportunities to come crashing down on her at any moment. And lurking beneath it all: the fear that even Aiden now hated her, or thought less of her at the bare minimum.

Gwen glanced around her unkempt bedroom, her mind going out into the empty apartment beyond the door. I'm alone, she thought. Despite having the rent paid, feelings of fear and worry descended over her almost to the same point as when the reality of her roommate skipping out on her came crashing down. And there, on the desk, sat her ticket to London. Gwen picked up the glossy piece of paper, watching the light coming in from the window leave a glittering streak across the type. The plane was probably already over in the UK. Probably refueling, ready to haul another load of people back over the Atlantic. Not wanting to think about it anymore, Gwen yanked open a desk drawer, threw the ticket in, and slammed the drawer shut. She flinched at the sharpness of the
sound.

Gwen ate the piece of toast mechanically. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Unfortunately, she hadn't grabbed any drink for the Rinse stage, and peanut butter quickly gummed itself to the roof of her mouth. Each mouthful felt like a hard little ball in her stomach. From there, she flipped open her laptop and stared at her essay for a good ten minutes, moving the mouse when the screen darkened in an attempt to enter power saving mode. Her fingertips grazed the keys, unable and unwilling to apply the force necessary to make letters appear on the screen. Her mind filled with the staticky grey fuzz you used to get on old TV stations that weren't in service. She knew that throwing herself at school might be the best idea right at that moment. She could lose herself in facts and dates and theories, forgetting real life for academic sophistry. Yet her mind simply wouldn't allow it. The more she tried to force an idea, the further from her grasp the ideas fled. It was like trying to herd cats. Clearly, Gwen thought, I need some recovery time.