Threefold

5| insight

Anya and Danny, A.K.A. Danielle (A.K.A. Julian's dishy woman), are having a discussion primarily about topics we chose not to be a part of. The only problem with that is, the night is over. The double date has ended. The checks are on the table and the tips have been placed underneath the plates. So why are we still here, you might ask. Well, Anya and Danny have sparked up a new plug and it's called friendship. From now on, they want to meet up at Truluck's Seafood and Crab Shack every Friday to have drinks and celebrate the ending of the week.

In that sentence, there are so many things I disagree with and so many things I'd rather not go over, so let's just leave it at that. If Anya wants to accompany my pal's girlfriend, I see no wrong. I am truly hopeful that she finally gets to befriend such a lovely woman, but I don't want Julian to get comfortable--that rule also abides for his woman delegate.

Before we leave, Anya says her good-byes to Danny, but I do not. Again, the whole concept of us going on the double date was to improve Julian's confidence. Though, the only thing we did tonight was get shitfaced, because we both were no longer confident. All my confidence was altered into anxiety and discomfort.

Danny and Julian grin, continuing to wave and I rush into the car. "You ready?" I swiftly ask as Anya slowly whips her seatbelt across her chest.

"Sure. What's gotten into you? You barely said a single word tonight."

I couldn't have revved the engine fast enough to leave that shack and head home. It feels like tons of pounds are mashing onto my chest, minimizing the air in my lungs. Anya takes heed of this, knowingly aware that something has me pestered. "What's wrong, dammit?" She demands.

That tone of voice leaves me with only two options. Do I tell her something that could shake us up? Or do I lie, hide it and put it aside for the meantime? The weight on my shoulders are leaning more so onto option two.

"Nothing, Anya. I'm just a little troubled."

"Troubled?" She interrogates whilst her face twists in confusion, "Troubled about what?"

"Do we have to discuss it?" I comeback with an attitude. Honestly, I don't realize I had one until I'm aware that the car has grown silent with tension. Isn't that the worst? Every time the car alters into silence, some real shit is tipping off the edge. Haven't we argued enough today?

Anya faces the window, breathing like a maniac, but I actually enjoy it when she does that. It turns me on. On a regular basis, everything she does turns me on. She's like an arousing magnet. If she does the grossest thing, it is unconditionally attractive.

When we get home, it still feels like we're in the car. No words have been shared between us both and it's annoying, even though this is my fault. However, I can't help but remain in silence, because I believe if I chose to speak first, I'll be drilled into the wall by her snappy comebacks and neck-rolls. Plus, I have no idea what to say to her. I've got cold feet and hot ears.

She heads up the stairs, piecing off her clothing until she is left with her fancy, lace undergarments. Was that supposed to be for me tonight? My guess is that I've ruined it for the both of us.

Right now, I'm staring at my silver, stainless steel coffee pot, determining if I should just tell her. Tell her what happened and how it was resolved and what she thinks about me. But the moment I commit to myself to inform her of the situation, she stands behind me with those delectable goo-goo eyes.

However, lately I haven't been able to decipher the proper implication of those eyes. What do they mean? Because I'm feeling aroused, angry, shameful, troubled and frightened. I inquire her through stupidity. "What..."