Chapter 57: The Power of a ShowerMature

Narrator: Leslie Defiere

Fucking hell! Brent must have gained weight, as his arm and legs which were twisted around my naked body did not budge. He was snoring lightly, the volume of it being the one thing about him I do not have much of an aversion to. 

He grunted silently as I attempted to sit up, his arm stubborn to keep its place, but soon losing it. His legs were still locked on mine, and my ankles felt strained from the awkward position I was in. Brent must have felt it too, as his legs untangled itself from mine. 

I had not fallen into a deep sleep for the past hour as Brent had. Despite the air conditioner being on, the body heat I felt did not allow for a nap. Nor did the fact that I had to turn up at Juliet's at some point in the night. 

There was a bedside lamp on, otherwise all was dark. I took a good look at Brent, confirming his unconsciousness and reached to the end of the bed where my clothes lay. I put on my undergarments, careful to do so soundlessly and reached for my jeans. I dug into each of its pockets, and pulled the cold band out. 

I put the ring under the bedside light. The diamond was rather big, carved old-fashionedly in an oval-like shape. It looked to be around two carats, and the gold band looked slightly faded. The ring had been quite well-managed. I thought about the number of marriages within Brent's family the trinket represented. I doubted how many of those were managed well. 

No, that was unfair of me. The Defieres did not do so wonderfully in managing their marriages either. My mother, for example, divorced my father shortly after their ceremony, married another man who is now rotting in a morgue somewhere. Keyword being rotting, and therefore I find no point in thinking about him. But that's my point - his death was caused by a hooker and coke. My mom had married a man with such a vulgar nature, and made no attempt to fix it. Or even her own, for that matter. 

After tonight's events, there was no denying that I was to be any different. Here I was, with a naked man next to me, who is rightly my boyfriend. A man who has planned on asking me to marry him, whilst I had hot sex in the shower with another guy, whom I was quite positive I was close to loving.

It was wrong, and I felt sickened by the thought of it. Whore. Slut. Those words rang in my head endlessly, and I felt dirtier. I scratched my scalp, feeling a mental itchiness, rather than a physical one and I was suddenly desperate to trim my nails. They had grown a tad bit too long, and had unidentifiable things under them. 

The clock read 2:17 in the morning. I had time to take a shower and make it to Juliet's house by 3 o'clock. Brent always kept a spare set of underclothes for me in his room. It was hidden under the comic books and video games which were, however contrary to one's expectations, were arranged alphabetically and anyone who knew Brent, knew not to touch them. I lifted up a pile of comics carefully, and pulled out a red matching bra and underwear. It was lacy, and the underwear were G-strings which looked extremely uncomfortable. 

I took them, my clothes, and the ring into the bathroom and eagerly jumped into the shower. I was hesitant to use his generic shampoo which I feared would effect my dyed hair badly, but I needed the whole treatment.

The G-string felt like a wedgie, but one that could not be fixed with a quick pull to the side. It was a constant nuisance, and my skinny jeans were already tight enough. But the point was, I felt clean. The smell of lemons was shit compared to my lavender scent, but it was the best I could do. 

Brent was still fast asleep as I got out of the bathroom. I thought it was best to leave a note before he jumped to any of his own conclusions. 

Brent,

Good morning! Sorry I left, but Juliet was expecting me. See you later today.

Muah,

L. 

I made sure not to put Love, Leslie. I left the note on his desk, and crept out the way I had come in. 

The End

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