The Bellamy Harris Affair {Lesbian Short Story}✔

Excuse Me . . . Who Are You?

The muggy afternoon air hit my face in fitful spurts through the half-open window. I could only breathe through one nostril. But the smell of wet earth was still unmistakable. I had always liked how the world smelled after a heavy rain.

The sound of the wind whipping past the car at seventy miles per hour gave cadence to the little drummer boy who kept concert in my head. The dull ache was worth the humid breeze though.

Harris had decided that fresh air was a far better choice than the air conditioning in her Audi. She said it would be easier on my lungs. For someone I’d met just hours before, she seemed rather concerned about my welfare.

The thought of her caring about me gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, like the week before when I drank half a bottle of marshmallow vodka by myself. I wanted to close my eyes and wrap myself in it. Either I had an acute girl crush, or I was having a small heart attack.

While I tried to determine whether I needed to pay another visit to the emergency room, she drove back to our Greystone neighborhood. I kept stealing glances at her during the drive, averting my gaze when she happened to look my way.

After she caught me for the second time, I settled my eyes on my hands and wished for the distraction of my smartphone. The silence felt awkward, which meant I felt the need to fill it.

“Thank you for taking me to the hospital,” I sputtered through intermittent coughs. “Most people probably would have just left me to bleed on the floor.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, and signaled to make the right turn onto our street. “Besides, I need you alive so I can sue you for the atrocities committed by that out of control mutt of yours.”

I felt bad for a second, until she laughed.

Her laugh. It wasn’t melodic or dainty. The heavens didn’t open up to allow a blazing beam of sunlight to shine down upon me in its wake. When she laughed it sounded more like a guffaw laced with a half-sneeze. It wasn’t polished like her appearance.

No, that laugh was pure unadulterated Harris. From that moment on, I wouldn’t be able to get enough of it.

She pulled into the shared drive, and walked around to the other side to help me from the car. Before I could protest her assistance, she had slung my arm across her shoulders and taken hold of my waist.

When we reached my doorstep, Walker was there waiting for me. His green eyes were frantic. I began to panic, thinking of whatever heinous scenario that might have had him so flustered.

“Where the hell have you been, Bellamy?” He rushed toward us, his brow furrowed. “I was worried half out my mind. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“Left it here.” I groaned and rubbed the side of my head. “We were at the emergency room all morning. What are you doing home?”

“Mrs. Toller called me at work. Said she heard Jaxon howling like a stuck pig.” Walker placed his hands on his hips, and adopted the look of a frustrated parent. “You locked him in the laundry room?”

“Yes,” I hissed through gritted teeth, as Harris helped me inside the house. “He attacked our new neighbor. So I gave him a little time-out.”

With her acting as my crutch, I eased down onto the sofa and laid my head back on the cushions. I thanked her and rolled my eyes at him.

Blood on the kitchen floor, an unlocked front door and I was nowhere to be found. And his first thought was of the dog’s safety. If our relationship wasn’t in such disrepair, I might have been hurt by his apparent lack of concern.

“Jaxon has never bitten anyone.”

“Well, he did today.” Harris lifted her legs onto my lap. A rather intimate gesture that seemed oddly comfortable for her. She turned up her nose and surveyed the room. “Where is the little beast anyway?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Walker asked. That tiny vein in the middle of his forehead was thumping harder than a dubstep beat.

The only response Harris gave to his question was to cut her eyes at him. Her jaw set. The tension in it gave her features a strong regal edge. She looked like a lioness who had just detected an intruder in her territory.

Seeing that she had no intention of acknowledging him, I took it upon myself to make introductions.

“Walker, meet Harris Lynwood. Our next door neighbor, and Jaxon’s latest victim.” I took a breath, and motioned in Walker’s direction. “Harris, this is Walker Ashcroft.”

“Her fiancé.” He added with the lilt of possession in his tone.

Why did he have to mention that?

It was the truth. He was my betrothed. But we were hardly smitten with each other. At best, we behaved like roommates. Lately, we couldn’t even manage that level of civility. We were more like passive-aggressive siblings.

He would eat the last of my organic greek yogurt, and leave the empty cartons on the counter for me to find. And I in turn would drink his imported beer, even though I despised the taste of the expensive swill.

I wanted to say something. I should have said something. But I didn’t know what to say, or to whom to say it. So instead I sniffled and coughed like a sick mute, hoping they would both just forget I was in the room.  

Her eyes were on me. I could feel them burning into the side of my face. His eyes were on me too. And I didn’t want to look at either one of them. For some reason that I couldn’t quite pin down, I was more anxious about what might have been on her mind.

The mood in the room had taken a turn for a possible soap opera showdown between two jealous lovers. And I felt like the piece of cheese caught in the middle of the standoff. Before it could get all Butch and Sundance up in there, I chose to extend the dreaded olive branch to Walker.

“Look, Walker. I’m sorry about leaving Jaxon.” I hung my head like a contrite child. “I know how much you care about him.”

“Bellamy,” he said shaking his head. “We all make mistakes. But you’ve got to be more careful. He’s a very sensitive animal.”

I nodded while he chided my negligence. It was best to take my licks in silence. I couldn’t stand the dog. So even if I wasn’t unconscious when Jaxon was left to his own devices, I likely wouldn’t have been too pressed about the state of his sanity in the small laundry room.

“Bellamy is fine, by the way.” In the middle of his gentle tirade, Harris broke her silent streak. “Just in case you give a shit.”

“Of course, I do,” he shot back. He took a seat next to me, and turned my head to get a look at the bandage just above my left temple. “What happened?”

“I fainted. Hit my head.” I shrugged, and brushed off his touch. “It’s nothing major.”

“I’ve got those meetings with Mcnamara and Wynn today. They’re both huge investors.” He sighed. “But I guess I can cancel if you need me to stay.”

Before I could answer, Harris chimed in again.

“I can take care of her.” She brushed a few strands of hair out of my face, and smirked at him. “So you can run along now, Walker.”

He glared at her. “I hardly think she wants some crazy stranger off the street taking care of her.”

“No, um . . . Walker, it’s fine,” I stammered. “She’s the only reason I didn’t bleed out today.”

“Are you sure?” He stole another heated glance at Harris.

“Yeah, go back to work. I’ll be fine.”

Walker studied the two of us for another minute or so, before he rose from the sofa. Bending to kiss my cheek, he promised to be home around nine. When nine o'clock rolled around, neither of us noticed that he failed to keep his promise.