Sam sat at her desk spinning her pen around between her
fingers. The clock seemed to be racing towards 6pm, much to her aversion. She
allowed her mind to wonder into dangerous places, visions of Frankie’s smug
grin amid Cat’s guilty eyes.

Across town, Cat sat in a cafe pondering on what she had
become. So conflicted, so weak, a total let down. As she sipped her latte, the
scolding liquid barely made her blink. How could her first love put her in such
an awful position, again. Why could she always get under her skin?

‘It doesn’t matter whether I’m with Sam or Frankie; I’m
never truly there, not completely. Neither one of them has all of me,’ she
contemplated.

Meanwhile, Frankie was dragging herself out of bed, nursing
a hangover. The third of the week, on a Wednesday afternoon. She acknowledged
Tess on her way to the shower and perched on the edge of the bath whilst
rubbing her forehead like somehow it would erase all of the poison whirl-pooling
around her brain.

The engine revved, Sam turned the CD volume up to max and
hesitantly took off. Each lyric rang in her ears; each beat thudded against her
chest like a bullet. There was purpose in her manner though; Sam’s style wasn’t
half hearted. She knew what she had to do, she didn’t like it, but it was a
feeling she had become familiar with.

She pulled up, yards from the flat. Fixed her hair in the
mirror before making her way towards the front door. She walked through the
door with a swagger, attempting to cover any heartache from Cat’s eyes.

‘Hey’

‘Hi.’

Cat looked to the floor as she passed Sam a drink.

‘No thanks.’

The brunettes’ eyes shot up to meet the glare of the cops.

‘I need to talk to you Cat.’

The response was soft, so quiet it was barely spoken; ‘ok’.
She sat down uncomfortably, while Sam stood – hands in pockets, she licked her
lips so she wouldn’t choke on the words she knew had to be said.

‘I don’t know what’s going on with you and Frankie. I don’t
want to know the details, I’ve got a pretty good picture in my mind already.’

Sam swallowed hard, feeling the back of her neck burn, her
pulse hitting the skins surface like a shipwreck.  Cat pressed her fists against her mouth,
couldn’t muster a single word.

‘So I’m gonna stay with a mate for a while, let you figure
out what it is you really want. I can’t play second fiddle, i don’t do that. I’ll
fight for you, but i can’t fight the way you feel. I’ll just grab my things.’

Cat watched Sam disappear into the bedroom, her eyes welling
and knees trembling. Sam shut the door behind her and leant back against it looking
to the skies. Her bottom lip was quivering; it angered her that she’d allowed
herself to get into this situation. She longed for Cat to burst in and declare
her undying love, to make her stay. But in reality, she knew it was a release,
a way out for Cat.

She knew the risks, she was throwing Cat straight back into
Frankie’s bed, she knew she may never hear from the woman she loved again. But
the alternative of being the safe choice wasn’t enough.

Cat was stationary, like a tasered animal. Conflicted by her
heart crying out to stop Sam, but restrained by the guilt of putting her
through such betrayal. How could she beg her to stay when every word she had
spoken was so painfully accurate?

Sam dumped her bags at the front door and picked up her car
keys. She glanced at Cat to see a tear stained half smile.

‘See ya!’ Sam muttered lightly as she put her bag over her
shoulder trying to avoid eye contact.

She went to pull the door shut behind her, teeth gritted tightly,
the vein in her head defined.

‘Do you still love me?’ A look of need dressed Cat’s vulnerable
face.

Sam stopped and turned around slowly to face her, putting
one hand on the door handle.

‘Isn’t that my line?’

The door pulled shut.