Love's Ache_Gently Broken Series

by Ava Alise

  The sound of my bedroom door opening startles me, and my eyes fly open.

  “Wake up, sleepy head,” Ros says.

  I feel her sit down on the bed, but I’m still staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It was a dream, and at that thought, the brief weight that was lifting off my chest hits me like a bulldozer causing my heart to drop into my stomach. Tears burn my eyes; I turn my head away and begin blinking rapidly. After a beat, I realize Ros is still talking.

  “Wait, what?” I say when I feel in control of my tears and I turn to look at her.

  Fuck you, tears.

  “I said, you have a hair appointment in forty-five minutes, and the Uber will be here in thirty, so get up and get dressed.”

  We leave the hair salon around five P.M. Ros is still full of energy as she tells the driver to take us to the mall.

  “I love your hair!” Ros says excitedly.

  After the fuss of detangling my curls, I had the stylist straighten my hair and cut it into layers. It turned out nice; it’s full, bouncy, and the new cut seems to bring out my brown eyes.

  “I like it too,” I say and force a smile. I still don’t feel like smiling, but I am starting to feel a bit more rejuvenated.

  “So why are we going to the mall again?” I huff.

  “Party clothes, duh. And makeup,” she says sarcastically.

  “I have clothes and makeup at home, Ros.”

  “We’re going out to The Lounge, not to St. Peters,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I say, creasing my brows.

  “You used to have a great wardrobe, but there’s a reason I stopped borrowing your clothes, boo. After Sean, you started dressing like an old lady.”

  “Whatever,” I scoff. “I didn’t get rid of my other clothes, I just choose to dress more professionally. Sean always said—Dress for the lifestyle you want, not the one you have. Dressing professional made me feel more professional.”

  “Professional and old.” Ros laughs again.

  I sigh and roll my eyes.

  Ros has always been my rock, she never lets me wallow in my shit for too long. So I’m not surprised at her persistence with this, regardless of how annoying it is. We’ve been best friends since we were eight-years-old. By the time we were fourteen, she already had the rest of our lives planned out. We would attend Emory University together and buy large houses with Olympic-sized swimming pools next door to each other. Awesomely enough, we were both accepted into Emory our senior year of high school, but after Della died and Grayson went to prison, neither of us were in the mindset to start school, so we decided to reapply to Emory the following year. Della and Ros were very close, and Ros and I leaned on each other a lot that first year.

  Anyway, when the time came to apply to Emory, we decided to ease back into school and start at the local community college. With the help of our parents, we share an apartment and work only during the summer. We got our acceptance letters last month, right before Christmas, and if all goes well, this semester we should both transfer in as juniors at Emory.

  Ros immediately drags me to a dress shop as soon as we walk into the mall.

  “We’re going to find you the hottest party dress this mall has to offer. This is the best place for it,” she says, gesturing to a storefront. I look from Ros to a large illuminated sign that says ‘weddings, proms, and evening wear,”.

  “It’s not that serious, we’re just going to The Lounge,” I grumble.

  “Yeah, but tonight… it is that serious! Just hush and let’s try on some dresses. If you don’t like anything, we’ll go somewhere else. This is my treat; it is my divorce gift to you.”

  I don’t respond, I just follow her into the shop. The shop associate shows us a few dresses she recommends for the occasion. One option is an all-black short strapless dress that I don’t like, but Ros loves so much she tries it on.

  “Yes… you have got to put this one on!” Ros says from behind me. I’m halfway thumbing through a rack of dresses with nothing piquing my interest.

  I take one look at the dress she’s holding.

  “No!”

  “Just try it on, please!”

  This dress, in wine red, is very short in the front but long in the back. The dress is form fitting and gathers a bit on the sides, complementing my small waist and long legs. As much as I hate to admit it, the dress looks amazing on me. I’m surprised I don’t look like a whale wearing it as I’m sure my diet has been reduced to corn dogs, cereal, ice cream and smoothies for the last six weeks.

  “YES! Liz, that one, I choose that one!” Ros squeals, wide-eyed when I step out of the dressing room.

  I don’t put up a fight, and she purchases the red dress for me and the black one for herself. After we leave the dress shop, we walk into Macy’s, and Ros pushes me to the MAC counter. Two lip colors, a new eyeshadow, and a new concealer later, we begin to walk away and Ros heads straight for the lingerie section.

  “Um, why are we in lingerie?” I ask, curious if she’s trying to find something to surprise her kind of boyfriend, Kevin, with.

  “We’re here for you. I know, I know, you have sexy nighties, but everything you’ve got has been worn for Sean. You need a rebound, and when you find one, the last thing you need to do is pull out some shit that reminds you of that dickhead.”

  “Girl,” I chuckle, “the last thing I’m thinking about is hooking up with some rebound.”

  I laugh again, this time out loud.

  She’s crazy.

  “I know but you need some fun, and it’s time to take a break from all that relationship mess and just have fun. You know?”

  I think about her words as we browse through the aisles. I don’t know, maybe she’s right, I have always been the relationship type of girl. My fingers slide across a red silk robe as we pass, and I look up at Ros as we walk into the underwear section. Ros looks back at me and smiles; she has a smooth caramel complexion and the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. She can always put me at ease. I’ve always admired that she always manages to have fun, and she doesn’t over think things or take life too seriously. I’m the perfectionist in our duo, always have been, especially when it comes to dating. She’s not a whore or anything, but when she and Kevin would break up, Ros would have hookups and have fun as she saw fit. I was always closed off and wouldn’t give myself to anyone I wasn’t dating. Well shit, now that I think about it, I’ve been married or in a relationship most of my short time as an adult. The few guys I dated before Grayson were also bad apples; they’d have trouble with the law… or worst. I probably could’ve avoided a lot of frustration even as a teen if I kept things simple. Ros grabs two teddies and a few pairs of boy shorts with matching cami’s and throws them into the basket.

  Ros is beaming as we get into the Uber to head home, but as soon as her eyes fall on me she frowns.

  “Aw, honey. We’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”

  “Six weeks Ros, Sean and I were together for a whole year. Why did he wait until six weeks before my divorce was final to give up? It makes no sense!” I say, eyes downcast.

  “I know, but if he wasn’t man enough to be honest with you about his feelings, then he’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah,” I say, weakly. Turning from Ros, I watch as we pull away from the mall, and I sit quietly, while internally I’m screaming.

  CHRIS

  I will never hit a woman, ever. I think any man who does is a piece of dog shit. That being said, this woman makes me want to hit things. She is unbelievable. I am not an aggressive guy, I don’t lose my temper or yell and break shit, but I’m trying, with all my willpower, not to go Incredible Hulk on this fucking table. There’s always one person in your life who can pull you outside of yourself, and this is why I stay the hell away from her.

  “How in the fuck does that make any sense?” I say through gritted teeth.

  Shayla just stares at me with a blank expression.

  “It’s not fair!”<
br />
  The sound of wood squeaking against wood splits the air as she stands forcefully.

  “You’re living it up in that big ass house, and I have an apartment! You wear nice clothes, drive a freaking sports car, and probably have more money in your pocket now than I’ve had all week,” she yells.

  “I have four roommates in that big ass house you like to bring up so much, so no I’m not ‘living it up’, Shayla. As far as everything else, yes I have a lot, but I also work my ass off for it.”

  Shayla groans and flops back down in the chair with her arms folded, her long blonde hair falling to her back as she does.

  “And don’t give me a sob story about how broke you are. You need to stay out of the mall, and maybe you’d have more money,” I tell her with narrowed eyes.

  Now this sets her off. Her voice rises to a squeak as she proceeds to throw every four-letter word she can think of at me. It’s always the same shit with her—money. Maybe I spoiled her too much when we were together, or maybe she has a fucking mental condition, but she needs a reality check.

  “He’s your son too, Chris.”

  I had completely tuned her out and was planning my exit, but this catches my attention.

  “And? What does MJ have to do with this? I take care of my son,” I say, brows knitted.

  “Well… I need more money for him,” she says this while placing two well-manicured hands on her hips.

  That sight makes me laugh out loud.

  “Answer this, Shayla… how much is your rent? Or your electric bill? Water?” I pause dramatically, knowing damn well she has no idea.

  Shifting uncomfortably, Shayla glances around her dining room.

  “That’s right, you have no fucking idea.” I shake my head and glare at her. “I pay all the bills here, and I don’t do it for you, I do it for my son. So the few days a month he’s actually here with you, I know he has what he needs.”

  “So! That’s the least you can do. He needs more clothes, shoes,” she says.

  Shayla meets my glare head on.

  “Are you sure? MJ stays with me more than he is with you. I think I’m more versed in what he needs. Are you sure you aren’t the one who needs the clothes and shoes? I’m certain, with you having zero bills, you can afford to throw him a shirt or two in your weekly shopping trips,” I say, breaking the stare.

  She’s fucking insane.

  “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. You can leave now.” She stomps to the front door to hold it open. I jump to my feet.

  “No fucking problem.”

  If she thinks I’m going to pay all of her bills plus give her spending money, while she pretends she’s using it for MJ, she’s sick. It’s one thing if she actually took care of him and he needed things, of course I’d help, but he’s with me full-time. She gets him most weekends. Shit, I send her a fucking overnight bag for him, and she has the audacity to cry for a handout?!

  “I’ll be by to pick up my son tonight!” she yells and slams the door.

  I stare at the door, disgusted.

  Every time I see her, I ask myself how I survived three years with her and now I can barely make it three minutes. I know it’s not right, MJ deserves a life where his parents can at least tolerate each other. I’d do anything for that kid, but she makes it impossible.

  Taking a deep breath, I stroll toward my car.

  MJ is with my parents for the night so I shoot my mother a quick text, telling her to expect Shayla tonight because they were expecting to keep him the whole weekend. I played hooky from work yesterday because MJ wasn’t feeling well, and I had only just dropped him off this afternoon. It has been almost a week since I’ve been to the house I share with roommates. I refuse to bring MJ around those crazy fucks, so when I have him, we stay in the duplex my parents keep empty on their land. A few years after I was born, my parents decided they weren’t going to have any more kids, and they had the duplex built.

  “So when one of you fuck up, you’ll always have a place,” that’s what dad told us when asked about it.

  I have twin siblings Cameron and Kelsa, who are two years older. We used to say our parents were crazy for never renting it out, but we sure as hell enjoyed all the parties we had there throughout high school. Then, at the start of my senior year, Shayla told me she was pregnant, and that shit stopped. I began viewing the duplex in a different light. With a baby on the way, the duplex began to look heaven sent.

  Thirty minutes later, I pull onto my street. Still fuming from Shayla’s recent bullshit, I know I drove way too fast, but driving my beauty at full throttle usually loosens me up. I take care of my car like I take care of my women, and sometimes she needs to be opened wide and rode hard.

  Fuck meditating; I would take making a girl scream in bed, over humming in dead silence, any day of the week. Speaking of fucking, that’s the other thing that relaxes me, and a smile creeps across my face as I pull into the driveway.

  Looks like a party is going on.

  “Look who’s home,” my roommate, JJ, says, as soon as I walk through the garage entrance. He’s sitting at the bar with a sexy redhead on his lap wearing only a bra and a mini skirt, and just like that, I’m happy as fuck to be home.

  Music swells through the house, and I nod, greeting my friends and roommates as I walk toward my bedroom. People are everywhere—on the deck, in the yard, playing drinking games in the dining room and dancing in the living room. It isn’t exactly surprising. If these guys aren’t working, they’re partying which doesn’t say a lot; our job is like a twenty-four-hour party. The guys and I have worked together at Tease, a local strip club, for the last few years. The guys and I travel to do shows from time to time, but I usually opt out if it’s too far away from home. Sam, our manager, is understanding of my situation, plus the club is pretty profitable as is, and the travel shows are just to create buzz. I started stripping shortly after MJ was born. I had tried college for a while, but I had to drop out due to Shayla’s lack of parenting. I found ‘Tease’, the guys rented a room, and I guess the rest is history.

  I miss my son, always, but this is nice too. Being able to get away and reset has made me a better father. I’m not one of those young fathers who would dump my kid for pussy, or stay out partying because he fucked up and got a girl pregnant before he should have. When MJ is with me, it’s all about him—all the fatherly shit—no shortcuts. There’s a time and a place for everything, and this is my time and place. The parties are one of the reasons I keep a room here. I don’t do relationships, and I can’t see myself fucking girls where my son sleeps. The other reason is location, my parents’ place is about an hour away from my job. My parents agreed to keep MJ for me on the days I work, depending on if Shayla comes to get him or not. They’re a huge help.

  “Hi, Chris,” a playful voice rings in behind me. The tension that held me moments ago starts to dissipate; finally, I take a deep breath and drop my car keys and wallet on my dresser.

  Right on time.

  Tossing my bag in the closet, I feel the smile grow on my face before I turn to her.

  The owner of the playful voice is leaning against my bedroom door in heels and a dress that is too tight which zips down the front. Teasing the zipper, she gives me a hot as fuck view of her perfect breasts; she’s not wearing a bra, and my dick appreciates it, jumping to attention. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes crawl all over me.

  Nice.

  “Haley.” I smile, walking toward her.

  “Been missing you this week,” she says, smirking as her eyes trail my body.

  Haley doesn’t really miss me, which is good because that would mean this shit would need to end quickly. What she misses is my dick. I can’t fault her for that, she’s been pretty up close and personal with him a lot in the last few weeks. What I like the most about Haley is her boldness, like right now, for example, I’ve barely spoken to her and she’s already has a hand my pants. Got to love that. She doesn’t give a shit if I say another
word or not, she doesn’t expect me to kiss, cuddle, or make her feel special either. What Haley expects is what she’s about to get—bent over and screaming.

  I pull her forward and push the door shut. Her eyes never leave my dick as she watches it grow harder while she strokes.

  “Mmm, looks like someone missed me too.” She smiles.

  “Yeah, I think he did,” I groan, voice thick. I take my time teasing her. I wait until her flesh grows hot against my tongue, and she’s soaking wet, grinding against my hand. Then I grab a condom, bend her over my dresser, and give her exactly what she came for.

  After my hookup with Haley, I finally make it out to the party. It’s clear we aren’t working tonight because most of my roommates are drunk already.

  “Fuck,” Paul yells. He’s at the table with our old roommate, Ty, and two girls. The group laughs as Paul throws his cards down, stands, drops his pants and takes a shot. Clearly, he’s getting his ass kicked at strip poker.

  JJ and the redhead from earlier are dancing in the living room, though JJ is swaying a bit.

  “Aye, man,” my roommate, Nard, says, appearing to my right.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I say, leaning in and giving Nard a bro hug.

  “Wanted to ask you something, saw you come in then you disappeared,” he says.

  “Oh. My bad, I had to burn off some energy,” I say, allowing my eyes to follow Haley as she walks toward the kitchen.

  Nard follows my gaze then nods.

  The guys and I have lived here for a few years. Being that our house is so far outside of the city, we usually get old ass ladies for neighbors. When Haley and her sister moved into the only other house on this end of the street, we were happy as hell; they’re our age and like to party just as hard. We wouldn’t have to worry about any more nasty letters from old lady Henson about quiet hours or complaints about naked girls in the yard. Fuck, I know skinny dipping has been a thing for a while now, and even back in the 1800’s when she was a kid. That old lady was a huge pain.

  Haley and I hit it off immediately; she gets my view on relationships and understands that I just don’t have the time; my son comes first, and our life is good just the way it is. Letting a girl all the way in so we can argue about money or go days not speaking like Shayla and I use to, isn’t something I’m willing to put him through. I get pussy whenever I want, and I have my friends and family for the rest of the shit.