Broken Strings (18+)

08

In less than an hour, I’m turning twenty-five. I wouldn’t wish for anything more because I already have everything. My future was secured. Being an only child, I would inherit every cent my parents had worked for. And so they gave me the liberty to pursue what my heart wants. At my age, I established my name in the scientific community. I have the perfect boyfriend for six years and counting. I love my life, just the way it is.

Okay… if I really had to wish for something, maybe a marriage proposal from Storm would be fine. I mean, we’re not getting any younger, and our parents were constantly dropping hints that they already want to have their own grandchildren. I’d gladly grant their request, but I wouldn’t be bearing a child out of wedlock. Storm and I should get married first before we go ahead and start making babies.

A phone started ringing. It was Storm’s. I looked at the door he’d entered awhile ago. I guess I’d just tell him about the phone call when he gets out of the shower. After seeing the weary look on his face earlier, I couldn’t disrupt the little alone time he had. I just hope he comes out refreshed and energized.

The ringtone stopped, only to start again after a few seconds. What the hell did the caller want from my boyfriend at a Saturday night – specifically at 11:47 PM? I stood up from the bed and began locating Storm’s phone. It was on my dresser, together with his wallet and keys.

I picked up his phone and saw who was calling – Baby. My hands clenched, my grip tightening I was surprised I hadn’t crushed the phone into pieces. There really was a baby in my boyfriend’s life, huh? My stomach churned at the thought.

I took deep breaths to regain my composure. I should be level-headed. I hadn’t proven anything yet. I wasn’t sure if this caller was the same baby he called when we made love.

Just before my thumb touched the screen, the ringtone stopped and the display went back to phone lock. I swiped the screen and typed 0715. Password incorrect, try again. What? How come?

I slowly pressed each digit, but still the same response. He no longer used our anniversary which had been his passcode since he got this phone. And he didn’t bother telling me about it.

I breathed in and out, then typed 0316. If his birthday wasn’t able to unlock his phone, what would? Maybe my birthday would. Okay, last try. I typed 0918. Password incorrect, try again.

Fuck it, Storm. Why did you have to bring my demons back? I already let this go before. But I don’t know if I could do it again. What happened to honesty and transparency?

I set his phone back to its place. Feeling so drained all of a sudden, I flopped on my bed. I shut my eyes and tried to remember the last time I felt none of these insecurities – that time when I thought our relationship was, without a doubt, perfect.

With great care, I placed the painting on my couch. I dropped my bag as I sat down, stretching my arms and leaning my head back. What a tiring but productive Saturday.

When I recovered some energy, I opened my eyes and sat up straight. I was surprised to see a red paperbag on top of my coffee table. I grabbed the package and retrieved the rectangular, black box it held. A shoe box?

I removed the lid to see what was inside. The pair of red pumps embellished with swarovski crystals. The one I couldn’t take my eyes off earlier at the mall.

There was a small card that came with it. I read the note, recognizing the penmanship as Storm’s.

I was wondering why you didn’t buy this pair. You loved them, right?

Love you, honey. –S

The bathroom door creaked open, but I kept my eyes shut tight. They were starting to burn, and I don’t know how I could look at Storm without letting out a single tear. Crying is for the weak. And Mischa Brillantes is never weak. Should never be.

I felt the mattress dipped beside me. I blindly draped my arm over his torso. “Honey,” I breathed.

Cool fingertips touched my face, tucking my stray hair behind my ear. “You’re still awake?”

I snuggled closer to his side. “I couldn’t sleep… Don’t you have something to say?” I murmured against his chest.

He remained silent for a while. My heart almost stopped beating. I actually stopped breathing. “Good night,” he said, breaking the silence. Seriously? What the hell happened to my boyfriend? Who is this man in my arms tonight? Storm never forgot any important occasion in our entire six-year relationship. How could he forget my 25th birthday?

I pushed my bitterness to the back of my mind. My birthday couldn’t be ruined just like that.

And I perfectly knew what would turn things around – one thing that makes everything better for the two of us.

I pressed a light kiss on his chest. Even with a shirt as barrier, his nipple pebbled against my lips. “Honey, I want you,” I rasped.

I slid my fingertips down his abs. Storm caught my wrist as my hand reached the waistband of his boxers. “I’m tired, Mischa.”

I looked up at his face in disbelief. He was looking straight at the ceiling, his face impassive.

I shifted a bit so I could kiss his lips. He turned his head away, so my lips touched his jaw instead. Didn’t he want me?

I shook the thought off my head. Of course, he wanted me. He wouldn’t be here with me tonight if he didn’t.

I started nibbling his neck. My hand fought with his as I struggled to touch him underneath his boxers. I sucked on the sensitive skin near his throat, and his grip on my wrist loosened.

My hand successfully made its way inside his boxers. I gave him a tentative stroke, running my fingertips down his length. My brows furrowed when my touch didn’t garner any reaction from him. I stroked him harder, my fingers curling around his shaft. I ran my hand up and down his length, sometimes squeezing. His breathing became heavier, his shoulders tense.

But he didn’t get hard.

I couldn’t believe it. Since when did my touch not arouse him?

I slid down the bed until my face was level with his hips. I tugged his boxers down. Not thinking twice, I swirled my tongue around the tip of his shaft. I enveloped him with my lips, sucking on the head.

Still not hard.

I took more of his length inside my mouth and bobbed my head up and down. My tongue restlessly played the underside of his shaft, my hand pumping the base.

Still. Not. Hard.

I stopped my ministrations and looked up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shrieked.

“I’m tired, Mischa. Let’s get some sleep,” he mumbled drearily.

“You were never tired for sex! You were never not aroused by my touch! You were always hard and ready for me!”

“I’m not in the mood to argue. If you don’t want to sleep, fine… but I do. So good night.” He tugged his boxers up. He rolled on his side, turning away from me. He was really going to sleep on me.

I climbed down the bed and grabbed my silk robe. I put it on as I grabbed my keys on the dresser. I got out of my room, slamming the door shut, hard. I did the same with the front door.

I got in my car and started driving aimlessly. I didn’t know where to go. I just wanted to be away from Storm at the moment. I couldn’t stand another minute of my birthday feeling like shit.

© Cyan