Marital Bitch(14)

Colleen looks down and I hear her sniffle. Fuck. She’s crying. I stand up to walk over to her, but before I can apologize, she’s up and running out of the dining room. I grumble a string of curse words and chase her up the stairs. Damn, she’s quick. I catch up to her in her room. She’s sitting on her bed, looking at the floor.

“What just happened?” I ask her honestly, because I really haven’t a clue. She shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t say a word. “Okay,” I snap, again, “I’ll tell you what happened. I asked you to prom and you bit my head off.” She looks up at me with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“You’re such a jerk!” she screams, startling me. I begin to defend myself, but she keeps interrupting me. Why in the hell do I want to go out with this girl again? Soon, we’re both screaming at each other. I don’t have any clue what she’s screaming about, but apparently she’s really upset about it. She stands up and flings herself at me, her little fists flying at my chest. I laugh a little at first, but then it starts to hurt and it’s not funny anymore. I restrain her hands and glare at her. She’s glaring back, cheeks flushed, breathing labored, and her red lips are moist and inviting.

Without another thought, I grab the sides of her face and kiss her roughly. She freezes under my lips, but I continue to kiss her. If she doesn’t respond soon, I’m going to call it quits. Throw in the towel. Hang it up. Basically, I’m going to give up on this whole prom idea. A few moments later and her lips move gently against mine. This is a good sign, I decide. We continue to kiss until we’re both gasping for air.

“Fine,” she says and pushes back off my chest. I pray she doesn’t look down and see me pitching a tent. Wait, fine? Fine, what? “Fine,” she repeats, “I’ll go to prom with you,” she says, pretending to look annoyed.

“Okay,” I say, grinning like a fool, “cool.” She just shakes her head and laughs.

“Thank you, Brad,” she grins at me. “I know you’re just doing this so I don’t have to miss out on prom. I really appreciate it. You’re the best friend a girl could have.” I stare at her stupidly. “You almost had me convinced there,” she smacks my chest playfully, “that kiss.” She pushes past me, laughing lightly and heads downstairs. I stand in her room, confused and a little dejected, wondering if my pretty girl will ever see me as more than just her best friend.





CHAPTER FIVE

(Colleen)





Now enjoy being married.





I RUN INTO the en-suite bathroom like the chicken that I am. Brad’s terms of endearment don’t sit well with me. Not when I know that I’m just Colleen. I’m off limits. He’s not supposed to be aroused around me. I get it, Bradley. My stomach lurches at the thought.

I take several deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. I married my best childhood friend—I thought this was going to turn out… how? This was such a bad idea. What had I been thinking? You weren’t thinking, I remind myself. Oh, yeah. That explains it. When I feel myself sufficiently calmed down, I decide that it’s time to assess the situation at hand.

I start at the root of the problem: I’m an idiot. Aside from that, mine and Brad’s relationship is pretty volatile and has been for a long time. Brad has mastered the art of the push and pull. He will push me just far enough away and then when he’s in danger of doing irreconcilable harm to our relationship, he’ll pull me back. It works every time. Unfortunately, this last round of push and pull has resulted in the biggest mistake we’ve ever made. I don’t think I’ve told him “no” with any seriousness even once. The more I examine the situation that we’re in, I realize something truly unappealing about myself.

While Brad may be a master of the push and pull, I play along. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me lose my ability to think clearly. As I mentally categorize my issues that have led me to being fake married to my childhood best friend, I decide that this level of psychoanalysis can really only be dealt with by a professional. First thing back in Boston I’m going to make an appointment.

Childhood best friend.

I mull over that term for a few minutes as I shower and brush my teeth. Does that mean he’s not my best friend now? We don’t really have anything in common anymore. We don’t really hang out, especially not alone. We don’t like most of the same movies or music and we certainly don’t frequent the same establishments. So then, what links us? For the life of me, everything I come up with has to do with our shared history. Another realization hits me.