Date Night

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” John announced as he came through the front door. This was, of course, for no one’s benefit but his own, a strange little habit he had gotten in which served only to amuse himself, as since Carrie’s recent move, he had the house to himself. Work had been the ordinary level of both stressful and boring, and he was particularly looking forward to opening a beer, flopping down on the couch and doing nothing else for at least an hour.

And so it came as a bit of a surprise when his facetious greeting was returned to him a second later: “Hi, honey.” The voice was distinctly Carrie’s, and distinctly heavy on the sarcasm. He looked to the living room and saw her sit up and turn around, gazing at him over the back of the couch. Behind her, the tv was playing something which even the most cursory of glances revealed to him to be a Korean drama of some sort.

She watched as he hung up his jacket and proceeded to the living room, where he took a seat on a chair near the couch. “Did you forget your new address or something?”

She scowled her cute little scowl. “Don’t sound so happy to see me. Rough day at work or something?”

John sighed and slouched back in the chair. “Sorry, I meant to say, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?'”

She gave him a look somewhere between amused and annoyed.

“Not particularly rough, no. Really, though, what’s up? Did you just miss me or something?”

“Not particularly,” she replied with a satisfied little smile. “I did kind of miss this tv, though. Much nicer than mine.” She turned her attention back to the screen as if to emphasize the point.

“Fair enough,” he responded. He didn’t mind the company, actually; zoning out alone was not necessarily preferable to doing so with a partner, and Carrie’s having already selected some background noise for him eased the process slightly, if anything. “I’m getting a beer. You want one?” He stood back up as he spoke.

“Got one, thanks,” she said without taking her eyes from the screen, simply indicating with her head towards the coffee table, which, John noticed on following her gesture, indeed had a bottle of beer, complete with droplets of condensed water dripping down its side, sitting on it.

“Cool, cool,” he sighed, amused at Carrie being Carrie. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Nah,” she answered while watching the screen intently. As John had just reached the kitchen she added, “Oh, actually, can you give me a ride home later? I took the bus over, but you know how the fucking buses are.”

“Uh huh,” he answered. He did not know or even particularly care which particular complaint she had with the public transportation in the city; all were probably valid. He proceeded to the kitchen and retrieved his beer, then returned to his seat and pulled out his phone.

“Texting Chloe?” Carrie glanced sideways at John.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he answered. He had pulled the phone from his pocket almost entirely out of habit and did not have a course of action in mind.

“Bullshit,” Carrie replied, turning back to the tv. “Anyway she’s probably not going to answer.”

John’s face twisted up into a quizzical expression involuntarily. “What makes you say that?”

She turned to face him, a smile spreading across her face as she looked him over for a second, then said, “Well, she’s got a guy over.” She seemed to enjoy letting that sink in for a second before adding, “So you should probably not expect a reply any time soon.”

John forced his expression back to neutral if only to confuse Carrie. “Ah,” he said after a brief pause, then started trying to find something to occupy himself on the phone’s screen.

“That’s it?” Carrie asked. “Just ‘Ah’? That’s all you’re going to say about it?”

“About Chloe?” John said, looking up again. “Uh…yeah, I guess? ‘Ah’ not suitable?”

“I swear to god,” Carrie said. She made a vaguely frustrated sound and continued, “You are so full of shit. You’re just going to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t bother you? Why? You don’t want to give me the satisfaction or something?”

“What satisfaction?” John asked. He did have to admit it was kind of amusing to see her get annoyed.

“I swear to god,” she repeated, “you’re so fucking annoying.” She shook her head and smiled. “I know it bothers you. Of course it does. Why do you have to pretend it doesn’t bother you even a little bit that your girlfriend is getting dicked down as we speak?”

“Dicked down? Really?” John laughed at her phrasing.

“Whatever,” Carrie said. She turned back to the tv but almost immediately returned to facing John. “I mean, she’s over there getting her tight little pussy pounded and you’re over here fingering your phone and you’re seriously going to pretend like you’re cool with that because you’re just so cool and so casual and so, I don’t know, whatever. Just, like, agh!”

John shrugged. “I’m not going to lie, I’m not, like, celebrating, but that’s the nature of casual relationships. If you want to fuck around, you have to bağcılar escort learn to live with them fucking around, too.” He scrolled through a list of notifications on his phone, finding none to be of interest.

“Whatever,” Carrie said, following it with an exasperated sigh. “I think you just don’t want to admit it to me that it bothers you.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Why would it matter to you, anyway?”

“It doesn’t! It doesn’t matter to me,” she replied. Evidently bored with her drama, she clicked it off and began looking for something else.

“If you say so,” John said. He stretched and took a drink of his beer, eliciting a half-amused glare from Carrie.

“And she’s fine with you fucking around, too?” Carrie said, having quickly given up on her search.

“I guess,” John answered. “That’s what she said, anyway. I’m inclined to believe her. Who’s the guy, anyway?”

“Ha! I knew it,” Carrie sat up, practically lunging towards him. “I knew it bothered you!”

“I just asked who the guy is,” John said, trying and failing to produce a suitably apathetic gesture.

“Because it bothers you. You want to know if he’s hotter than you or younger or has a bigger cock or whatever.” She wore a satisfied, giddy look on her face as she spoke.

“Whatever,” John said, “just making conversation. I don’t really care.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Carrie slumped back into the couch. “But to answer your question, I don’t know. I didn’t actually meet him. I just heard the two of them through the walls.” She picked up the beer and took a drink, seeming to focus on something distant as she did so. “Sounded pretty wild.”

“Yeah?” John said. He took another drink.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him once again. “Judging by the noise alone I’m guessing whoever he is has a fucking magical cock. Might want to start looking for another girlfriend is all I’m saying.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” John said. “Know anyone?”

“For you?” Carrie asked. “No.”

“Shucks,” John said. He put the beer down. “You want some dinner?”

“Are you asking me out?” she asked in a tone that let John know it was not a serious question.

“I’m asking if you want dinner. I’m going to cook dinner and I want to know if you want any,” he answered, rising to his feet.

“Do you need any help?” Carrie asked.

He considered for a second, taking mental inventory of what he had that could be used to construct a meal. “Nah,” he said.

“Oh, then, yes, please,” Carrie said. She started flipping through her viewing options again.

Never change, Carrie.

…

“So, did you want me to drive you back?” John asked as he placed the dishes in the sink.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Carrie asked. She stretched her arms out wide as she sat at the kitchen table.

He chuckled to himself. “Stay as long as you want,” he answered. “But if I fall asleep and you’re still watching tv, you’re going to be stuck here till morning.”

“I’ll just wake you up,” Carrie said.

“Nah,” said John, beginning the process of washing dishes, “my hospitality only extends so far. No waking me up unless there’s a fire, and only then if it’s three alarm or more.”

She sighed and rose to her feet, walking up behind him as he washed the dishes. “Eh, I might as well spend the night, then,” she said.

He turned his head slightly to get a better look at her expression, but he could not judge what it meant.

She must have picked up on his curiosity because she answered, “What? I don’t mean fucking. I’m not letting you fuck me again. I’m still low-key mad at you, remember?”

“I seem to recall something about that,” John said. To confuse the matter further, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing herself against him. “Playing with fire here,” he muttered.

“What are you worried about, Mr. Casual? Your girlfriend wouldn’t care, anyway. Not that we’re going to fuck. We’re not going to fuck tonight, I reiterate.” She pressed her chin into his shoulder.

“I heard you, I heard you,” John replied. “It’s fine, stay over if you want. You can have the couch.”

She pulled away from him. “You’re so mean,” she said, walking casually over to the refrigerator and opening the freezer door. “Don’t you have any ice cream?”

“Like I said, my hospitality only extends so far,” John said. He had finished with the dishes and started drying his hands. “Ice cream only available for premium guests at Casa de John.”

“Lame,” she answered, giving up her search and closing the freezer door.

“Anything else you find is yours for the taking,” he said. “I’m going to go hit the gym for a bit.”

“You mean the junk room?” she replied with a knowing look.

“Yeah, the junk room,” John answered. “Then a shower. Just warning you so there’s no accidental nakedness. Stay if you want. If you change your mind, let me know before bedtime, alright?”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes.

…

By the time bahçelievler escort he had finished with his shower, Carrie had prepared herself for bed, having apparently borrowed some shorts and a hoodie from him. He found her watching what appeared to be a different Korean drama, although he could not be sure.

“Alright,” he announced upon entering the room, “I am going to bed. Last chance to catch a ride home before morning.”

She turned and considered him for a moment. He found it odd how conscious this made him of the sweat pants and t-shirt combination he was wearing.

“Whatever,” she said finally. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

“Ok,” he said, suddenly feeling unsure for a reason he could not articulate if asked, “you know where the blankets are. Goodnight, dear.”

She nodded an acknowledgement and then turned back to her tv, leaving John to head back upstairs. He assumed that the workout must have helped, because rather than spend the next hour tossing and turning, he found that he could not keep his eyes open if he wanted to.

He had not even noticed a drifting off period, but rather realized he had fallen asleep only when something jostled against him, waking him from a dream he immediately forgot. The something was warm, soft, and distinctly Carrie-shaped. “Huh?” he managed groggily.

“Move over,” she said. She pressed her backside into him, a feeling that was at once somehow familiar and forgotten, unwanted and pleasant. He shuffled back a bit, yielding the warm spot he had been producing to her for a colder region of the sheets; she offset this a little with her body heat, but his back was cold, her warmth only applied to his front as he found himself spooning her.

“I…” he started to say something without having it fully formulated.

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “You’re just warm and comfortable and that couch of yours is not. I don’t know how you slept on that thing these last few weeks.” She spoke without turning around to look at him, although in the dark it mattered little, given how little he could see in the first place.

“I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter, as I recall,” John responded.

He could hear her breathe for a few seconds as she considered a response. “Whatever,” she said, then, after another few seconds, “Sorry about that. But you deserved it.”

“Uh huh,” he said for lack of wanting to do anything but sleep.

“What?” she said, “You did. Even you should know better than to fuck your ex’s best friend.”

“Even me?” he asked. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to roll away from her or not, although he was sure he did not want to be having this argument; in any case, both decisions were out of his hands, as she was pinning his right arm to the mattress.

“Yes,” she said, “even you. Look, I get it. You’re a dumb guy.”

“Thanks for the understanding,” he said, thankful that she could not see him roll his eyes.

“I mean it. Well, I mean, you’re a dumb guy about stuff like that. You think with your dick; I get it. Riley had just broken your heart and Linda was hot and she made herself available and you did what came naturally to a stupid, horny dickhead asshole.”

“Stupid, horny dickhead asshole?” He couldn’t help chuckling at the epithet.

“I stand by my characterization,” Carrie replied. “The fact that you’re horny all the time, that’s not your fault. It’s how you’re built. And that you’re naturally kind of stupid, that’s not really your fault, either. It would almost be charming if it were any other combination of traits. The problem is you’re stupid and horny and so you fuck everything that moves and don’t understand why that’s a bad idea.”

“Is that really what you think about me?” John said. It felt like she had stabbed him with a very soft knife.

She rolled over. “I don’t know, kind of. I mean, the alternative is that you really are just a dickhead asshole who doesn’t care. Like, you get that it’s going to hurt me and you do it, anyway. Because it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t matter because I’m just your ex. Is it better if I think of you like that?”

“No,” he said, “but, yes, you’re an ex. Like, why do you care who I fuck?”

She shrugged, a motion that he felt more than saw in the dark.

“See? There’s the problem,” he said. “I mean, you’re right. She came over and I was hurting and, well, you know. And I get that it’s a bad idea in the abstract. But in the moment, it’s just like, it doesn’t matter.”

“So I don’t matter, like I said,” she replied, the hurt in her voice palpable.

“No, I don’t…that’s not…” he tried to answer. “It’s like, I want this thing that’s there, like, right in front of my face…”

“Linda’s pussy?”

“No, well, yes, but not just that,” John replied. “I mean, whatever. It’s like there’s a voice going off in my head telling me not to but this other voice saying ‘just do it, it doesn’t matter; Carrie doesn’t give a shit about you.'”

“That’s not şirinevler escort fair,” she said, “Don’t pin that on me.”

“Maybe it’s not. I’m just saying that that’s what part of my brain is screaming at me.” Now it was his turn to shrug.

“Your brain or your dick?” she asked. He could see she was staring into his eyes from the moonlight reflecting off hers but couldn’t make out much more detail of her expression.

“Both? I don’t know.” He put his hand on her arm and noticed that she had removed the hoodie at some point before climbing into bed; she wore only a t-shirt, leaving the warm skin of her arm exposed to his fingers.

“Yeah, inside you there are two wolves, right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I hurt you. But also I do feel like you probably overreacted. You didn’t, by your own admission, have any skin in the game.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but that’s why I say you’re stupid and not just an asshole.”

“I don’t follow,” he responded.

“Yeah, of course you don’t, because you’re stupid. Most people would get that even if it’s irrational for me to be upset, I’m still going to be upset, and they’ll sacrifice the easy pussy for not pissing me off. But you, you’re dumb and so you don’t get why it matters and when your dick wants something it gets what it wants.” She let out a loud, frustrated sounding breath.

“Alright, you’re right, I’m stupid,” he said. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

“No,” she said. “You’re still an asshole and you still fucked my best friend and you still got me kicked out of that house.”

“And I got you that apartment and a new best friend. One who’s considerably better, I think,” he responded, his smile no doubt lost in the dark.

“True,” she said. “But you just think she’s better because she lets you fuck her.”

“I’m pretty sure the whole reason we’re fighting is because Linda let me fuck her,” John responded.

“Yeah, Linda is a dumb fucking slut, I’ll give you that,” she said.

“Are you still mad at her?” John asked. “You forgive me but not her?”

Carrie scoffed. “First, no, I didn’t say you’re forgiven. Don’t try to weasel that out of me. Second, yeah, you’re stupid, we’ve been over this. She knew full well it would piss me off and she did it anyway because she’s like that.”

“She’s like what?” John asked.

“A dumb fucking slut who was jealous of me from day one,” Carrie answered.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, obviously,” Carrie said, exasperation creeping into her voice. “How did you not notice that?”

John made the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

“You really are stupid,” she said, “but at least I guess that worked out. She wanted your dick bad, dude. I guess I’m kind of glad you’re so stupid because if you were just a little smarter you would have picked up on that and then you would inevitably have fucked her while we were together and then I would have cut your fucking balls off.”

“I’ll grant you that I am bad at picking up signals,” John said.

She made a gruffly cute sound of agreement and rolled back over to face away from him. For a few moments he tried to get back to sleep, assuming she was doing the same thing, though this was difficult to do with her ass pressing against him. Giving up, he asked, “Am I missing some signals at the moment?”

“No,” she said. “I still hate you, remember? You’re just warm, like I said.”

“Alright,” he said, slightly disappointed, if amused. “Good night.” He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything besides the ass that was pressing into his crotch.

This lasted for at most a few minutes before Carrie spoke again. “You know you really fucked up with Linda, right?”

“Didn’t we just go over this?” he said. “I really don’t want to fight about this. I’m extremely tired and I already said I’m sorry.”

She rolled over to face him again. This was something of a relief for his efforts to remain flaccid. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” she said. “I mean, if you hadn’t fucked her, you could have kept fucking me. You know that, right?”

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, that exasperation creeping back into her voice. “That’s so. I was going to let you keep fucking me until you did that. I know I said I wasn’t, but I was going to. But then you did that and it hurt me so much. Then I swore to myself I wouldn’t hook up with you again because you’re such a dumb asshole.”

“You swore to yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now, anyway. You’ve got a girlfriend, so even if I hadn’t, which I definitely did swear, I wouldn’t let you fuck me, regardless,” she said.

“‘Girlfriend’ is probably not the right term,” he started.

“I don’t care,” she interrupted. “I told you before I’m not going to litigate the exact terminology for whoever you’re putting your dick in. She’s a sweet girl and you’re going to break her heart but I’m not going to be the one to help you do it. I’m not a piece of shit.”

“Sorry,” John said, “I wasn’t trying to…I was just asking. I’m stupid, sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re stupid,” she said, “but I know I’m not making it easy.” She rolled over once again, and once again pressed her perfect ass into his crotch. “For what it’s worth, it’s not easy for me, either. You really did hurt me. I really would have kept fucking you, for better or worse.”