Chapter 2

Chapter 2

SHANE

“Thank you,” I say before I lose the courage to talk to him or before he leaves.

“No need to thank me. It was my mistake to be in the way. Apparently, you’re in a hurry…”

“Hunger,” I shut my big mouth as soon as those words leave it. He smirks slightly.

“Don’t let me stop you from your goal then.” He steps aside a bit, leaving the way clear for me. What would he think if I told him that my goal now is him? No, I push those ugly irrational thoughts out of my head.

“Thanks once again…”

“Liam Thomas.” He extends his hand, and mine joins his without my consent.

“Shane… Shanelle Murphy.”

“Nice name, Miss Shanelle.” Why the hell did my name sound so sensual on his sinful lips? I pull my hand away from his as I feel something strange.

“I have to go. Thanks once more.” I don’t wait for him to say anything and slip away as quickly as I arrived. But still, I can feel the man’s eyes on me. My legs are shaking. What the hell was all that stuff, and that sensation coursing through my body when I touched him? Now I think I’m really ready for those drinks and to forget about this day.

After eating alone because Marc never showed up, I stop by a bakery and buy a cake to take home.

(####)

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” I shout as I open the front door of the apartment, wanting to surprise Marc. But I’m the one who gets surprised when I see the scene in front of me; the first thing I see is Marc in the living room, on all fours like a damn dog, while another man is fucking him. Anger, embarrassment, and then anger wash over me.

I scream when I see it. Marc lifts his head, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Even though everything seems to go slow, it doesn't. They try to cover themselves, but it’s too late; they’ve messed with my brain forever. Still, I cover my eyes with my free hand and lock the door behind me with my foot. I quickly turn, giving my back to both guys, blood rushing through my body to my cheeks, feeling completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll just move to the kitchen to leave this... you guys carry on with what you were doing,” I don’t even know why the hell I’m apologizing or talking too much.

“Shit, Shane, I’m sorry! I…” Marc’s words cut off. There’s nothing he can say to fix this mess.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything,” what a lie. “You guys carry on with whatever. I’ll just leave this in the kitchen and head to my room.” As I say this, I walk, leaving the things on the kitchen counter, avoiding looking into the living room. I run to my room and lock the door. With a stranger in the apartment, I don’t feel safe. My heart races, and my mind starts to wander. How could Marc do this? Why bring a stranger into our home? Why fuck in the middle of the living room?

Anger and shame go hand in hand.

In the apartment we share? Okay, yeah, I know. We split the rent, but at least he could have the decency to take him to his room. That’s not too much to ask. The other thing that bothers me is him bringing home any crazy hookup he has; that’s dangerous; it puts both our lives at risk. And that’s something I’m not willing to allow or let slide.

I sit on my bed, trying to calm down and process what I just witnessed. I repeat to myself over and over that this isn’t my fault, that I shouldn’t feel ashamed. However, I can’t help but feel a huge discomfort about the situation. I feel like I’ve invaded their privacy, and that makes me feel like an intruder in my own home.

I cautiously open the door to my room, hoping the guys have finished. I step out and walk slowly towards the living room. Marc and the other guy are no longer there. I breathe a sigh of relief; at least I don’t have to confront them right now.

I decide to head to the kitchen and pretend nothing happened. I need to distract myself and occupy my mind with something. I start organizing the dirty dishes in the sink, trying to keep my composure. However, the images of what I saw keep swirling in my head, and it’s hard to concentrate.

I decide it’s time to talk to Marc. I can’t ignore what happened; I need to get it out of my system. I walk to his room and knock softly on the door.

“Marc, we need to talk,” I say while waiting for his response.

The door slowly opens, and Marc stands before me, visibly uncomfortable. I can’t help but feel a pang of hurt seeing him like that.

“Shanelle, I’m so sorry,” he tells me in a subdued voice. “I didn’t know you were going to arrive so soon; it was a mistake.”

I take a deep breath before responding.

“Marc, I understand you want to hook up, and that’s fine, you know? But I can’t let that affect our friendship and our living situation in this apartment. We need to set boundaries and respect each other’s space. I can’t forbid you from bringing someone here just like you can’t do that to me, but at least take them to your room and, before that, make sure they’re not a serial killer.”

Marc nods, showing sincerity on his face.

“You’re right, Shanelle. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Although I can’t wipe what I witnessed from my mind, at least I feel like we’ve had an honest conversation, and Marc understands my position. I hope this is enough for us to move forward as friends and as roommates.

“Are we going to go out to celebrate?” he asks in a subdued voice.

I sigh.

“Of course, we are. I need those drinks more than ever.”

“Ohhh, well, let’s go all out then,” he sings.