Back Whacked
Chapters (22)
  1. COVER
  2. DEDICATION
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. The Next Day

I reeled at his mention of Chloe, then tried to ground myself and cycle through what he was saying. I had been really consumed with work, but Dave was often shooting at night and I really didn’t think he’d noticed. This show was my big break, and I had to make it work. My job wasn’t making me any busier than he was, though. Dave was just used to my always being around for a text message or a phone call. The trip to Quantico had been only for four days. Since I’d returned from Quantico we’d stayed over at each other’s houses several times, but that still left him with a lot of nights on his own.

Standing there in front of Dave, running my hands through my hair, I thought of that bitch Chloe. She must have planned this whole thing out. She had targeted Dave, even after he said he had a long-time girlfriend. Then she waited until I was out of town to seduce my boyfriend with tales of A-list directors and stories about her raw thighs. Then she delivered the final blow by telling him I was cheating on him.

Suddenly I was furious again. “You couldn’t get it up with me the other night because you’d been fucking her! You were tired. Did you even wipe your dick off before you tried to slide it inside me?”

“Holy shit, can you just calm down? None of that’s true. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I told you I didn’t fuck her. I swear I didn’t fuck her.”

I don’t know why, but when he stepped toward me and put his arms around me, I didn’t push him away. I let myself melt into him and sobbed into his shirt. He leaned his head into mine and I could feel his damp face. He wouldn’t be over here this upset if he cared about her and not me.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’ll never happen again. I’ll never let someone or something come between us.”

His hands held my head close, and he started caressing my hair. This made me cry harder.

“Do you know what I want to do today?” he whispered into my hair.

“What?”

“I want us to go to St. Monica’s Church and pray. I want us to pray for some sort of guidance, some way to right all this wrong between us. I don’t want to give up on us.”