Over me: Chapter 8

I cancelled all my commitments for the next few days, realising I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I didn’t know, couldn’t guarantee that Al was safe. For her part she seemed happiest throwing herself into her work at home. I didn’t mention my fears that Ethan might not be done with us. I wanted to protect her even from myself.

While she wrote, I brooded. I worked out lots at the apartment and that helped but it still didn’t seem to shift the mass of nerves and anger underneath my surface. I felt like everything was on hold: I hadn’t heard from Lara, and so didn’t know if she had moved out or whether she was ready to. It didn’t seem fair to rush her but it was inevitable and I wasn’t about to move in with Alice. Taking it slow was hardly defined by merging our lives like that. So I teetered on the cliff edge of change, feeling as if a strong wind could send me hurtling over at anytime.

The third day I woke up to the tap-tap of Alice’s fingers on the keyboard coming from the living room. I yawned and then squinted as the first morning rays filtered through the curtains. The other side of the bed was cool and I wondered how long Al had been up. Could it be that she was finding our current “platonic” sleeping arrangements, as comforting and fulfilling as they were, just the slightest bit tortuous? I knew I was. But as we had decided sex would get in the way at the moment, we needed to find a new way forward in this second chance for us, one unclouded by lust. Well, it was a good idea in theory anyway…

I wandered into the living room. Al was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her brow creased in concentration as she chewed on her pen cap and typed away furiously.

“Hey.” I waved.

“Hey, baby.” She paused and looked up to give me a cute smile. I felt a rush of warmth infuse my chest, and moved to sit beside her, resting my head lightly on her shoulder.

“What are you up to today?” She murmured as she resumed typing, then cut and repasted a section of the page.