Read: Stubble

My clothes were hanging on the floor next to those of the Security Guard from the Body Shop. 

We were both in bed after having sex that had been quick and uneventful. 

He was smoking a cigarette; I hated people smoking in my flat, especially the bedroom! 

After leaving Martin’s flat, I felt all mixed up, and like I was floating. I went straight to the Body Shop on a mission. Sex with the security guard was the only thing that I could think of to ground me.

During the sex, I kept going over in my head the things that I should have said to Martin, to explain my side of the story. But what’s the point, it’s clear that he sides with Alex because he kept his promise of keeping their secret a secret.

I know that it’s immature to blame Martin but if he hadn’t told me what he knew; I wouldn’t be in my bed lying next to a stranger.

Why the hell, did Alex tell Martin, what happened between us; and mix him up in our business? After what he did to me, telling Martin about it felt like another violation.

Although I appeared to be laying in my bed quite calm, inside I was seething with a rage that I was fighting to contain. I felt angry at Justin and Martin. I was starting to feel that they had played me. Pretending to be my friend to my face, then behind my back relishing the tawdry break up of my relationship with Alex.

Part of me hoped that Justin would side with me. He’d always been a bit distant and non-committal where Alex was concerned. There was never an argument or a fall out between them but I always knew that they didn’t quite gel.

During the push and pull of sex with the security guard, I didn’t feel present, and started reciting, in my head, a poem that I’d written about Alex.

Throughout the sexual ordeal, I tried to pretend that it was Alex. He used to say that I was the missing piece to his jigsaw puzzle. That with me, locked in place, he felt complete

Lying next to me the security guard made me accept that I’d been lying to myself.

I didn’t want him, I still wanted Alex. 

I was starting to hate myself, but sought comfort in the long bath I was going have, as soon as he left; to wash the memory away.

Despair fell over me like a heavy duvet. How did I get to this point?

Is this how it’s going to be for me now, an endless round of casual sex?

Finally, the security guard stirred, and swung out of my bed muttering something about ‘it getting late’.

Watching him get dressed, I suddenly realised how clothes can conceal so much. They can cheat you into imagining that there’s more on offer. Or maybe I wanted to imagine there was more. Right now, more than anything, I wanted the security guard to leave. 

He came over to kiss me goodbye, and his stubble seemed to rip my face.

“Let’s stay he touch” he said. “Maybe we can hook up again?” I wanted to say not in a million years but instead the word “sure” fell from my lips.

As he walked out of the door, and out of my life, it suddenly struck me that I didn’t even know his name