Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Let me ask again.
What the fuck?
I don’t know why, but with my phone in my hand, I take a damn picture. It’s as if my fingers can’t comprehend what’s going on. In this moment, I hate him, so much. Zach grabs my jersey, which is lying on the bed, and uses it to wipe his cock. He’s so lost in the afterglow of his climax that he doesn’t even realize that I’m standing by the door.
Snap, another photo!
And as I take the picture, my hate turns to detachment.
Zach is fucking dead to me.
After I take the second photo, he realizes that I’m in the room, “Karen, we thought that you weren’t finishing until two!” He puts his limp dick back into his pants, zips up and gets off my bed.
“So, I’m early, that makes this okay?” I ask, gesturing around.
Rachel’s moving slow and confident. I want to scream at her and tell her not to move. Tell her that she’s sunk so low; ask her why she would do that to me. I thought that she was my friend. I want to cry, but the tears don’t leave my eyes.
“You never want to have sex. I was frustrated in the bathroom, and Rachel said that she could help,” Zach explains, as if that’s justification for what I’ve just seen.
“On my bed! In my room?”
“Our room,” Rachel corrects me, and then she just leaves. As if she’s done nothing wrong.
Zach holds on to me, pleading. “Look, it’s not like you ever want to have sex. You’ve been stressed.” Then his tone turns into a purr as if he’s trying to make out that somehow this is my fault. I know this tone so well. He does it to me all the time. Whenever I don’t want to have sex, his voice changes to this tone. Whenever I want him to come and visit me, his voice changes to the same tone, telling me that it would be easier for me to visit him. Zach has a way of manipulating me to do anything that he wants me to do, which is why I get nervous around him. It starts hitting home that this relationship isn’t what I say it is to other people or even what I tell myself that it is most of the time.
It’s like mom and her drugs.
Zach’s an addiction that I really need to get rid of.
He’s still talking, “I get it. I just needed a…” Then he winks at me as if I’m one of his college buddies.
“Get out!” I tell him softly. But while my words may be soft, my tone is louder than any yell.
He looks at me.
He hesitates for a minute and then blurts out, “I think that you’re overreacting. It’s not like I had sex on your bed or anything. Call me when you come to your senses!” Then he throws my sweater on the floor as if it’s a piece of trash before slamming the door shut behind him.
My phone’s still in my hand, and I mutter, “Overreacting am I?”
I start to post his five-inch cock on Facebook with a message about his premature-ejaculation problem. I’ll probably be going to Facebook jail because it’s a cock pic, but whatever.
It’ll be worth it.
This is the real reason that we haven’t had sex in forever. By the time I start getting wet, he’s already finished. I’ve tolerated it and thought about his other qualities, and the fact that we’ve been together since high school. The fact that I thought he loved me. I'm angry: not with myself, but with him. I found him with Rachel and yet I've not shed one tear. It’s as if somehow I feel free, yet humiliated. I don’t deserve to be humiliated; he does. So I post on Facebook, for all his friends to see. As soon as I hit the post, I start getting likes for the picture with the message, “Zach coming before the action starts!”
I grab the last of my things and look around my room. I’m glad that I shipped most of them home on Tuesday. I only have a couple of thing to pick up before I hop into the car for the long drive. Daniel, my stepdad, said that he wanted me to come home before I went on vacation with Zach. I wasn’t going to do it, especially after I gave Zach the wrong date for the end of term. Now I see no reason not to. After all, I’ve got to plan my summer and I don’t feel like staying here a second longer for Rachel to come back and see me. I plan to avoid her like the plague. Thank God we’re not sharing again next year.
As I walk to the car, my phone’s vibrating like crazy. This is when I see that most of his friends have liked the picture and shared it. I have around forty views, but I’m sure by the time I get home, it will have gone viral, and then Zach will be the one worrying about my actions, rather than me worrying about his.