My Five Night Fling by Maci Dillon

 

 

JARETT

 

“Sophia!” I shout into the phone. Finally, somebody fucking answers me. “I’ve been calling for ten minutes.”

“Chill, baby bro,” she huffs. “I was busy unpacking all my new finds from the shops today.”

“What have you done to Kassidy?”

“Done to her? What do you mean?” Whatever she was doing in the background fades out, and I have her full attention.

“She’s not answering my calls.”

“Relax, I not long walked in, so she’s likely still en-route to her room.”

Right.

I keep telling myself all the things she might be doing instead of ignoring my calls on purpose. Like lying dead in the street somewhere, kidnapped by a random subway troll, bludgeoned to death by a modern-day London serial killer. Yeah, none of that’s helping.

“Then why isn’t she answering her phone?”

“Jarett, stop!” Her abrupt words fall over me in a motherly tone. I know I’m overreacting, but the last time my calls went unanswered…

… I can’t go there.

“Her phone might be flat. We’ve been out all day, and she Instagrammed a ton of shit for her billions of followers. And you know what the signal is like on the subway.”

True.

I open the fridge and flick the top of a Peroni, chugging the entire bottle.

Get your shit together, Jarett.

“Okay, I’ll give her an hour and try again.” 

Kassidy is likely exhausted after last night, and on top of that, a day of shopping with my sister. I don’t want her too exhausted for what I have planned tonight.

I tap out a quick text.

 

Me: Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Me: Get some rest, I have a big night planned.

Me: Call me when you get this.

 

Okay, so three messages. On my second beer, I find myself wandering around my apartment, unsure what to do next. I’m so eager to see Kassidy, I can’t think straight. At least if I were to hear from her, I’d know she’s okay.

Time is running out, and I haven’t laid eyes on her or kissed her beautiful lips since she left this morning.

An hour later, I wade through my art box to discover my favorite pencils and prepare an easel in the art room. A room I haven’t stepped foot in since the accident.

Creativity has eluded me, and fear has overwhelmed me for too long now.

Memories. I dreaded the flood of memories sketching would bring to the forefront of my mind. Ignorance is bliss. I have kept the door to this room locked shut until now.

Anxiety threatens to engulf me. Between the concern of not hearing from Kassidy, the thrill of seeing her again soon, and anticipating how much fun we’ll have tonight, it’s all too much to bear. The need to do something to keep me from going insane is growing stronger by the second.

Before too long, I’m staring at an outlined sketch of Kassidy in front of me.

I let it happen.

It’s time.

And I don’t feel any guilt for doing so. Memories of the past of Helena and the many times I sketched her, crash over me in waves several times.

Instead of crippling me with pain like the past year, the memories of her inspire me. Music fills my workspace, and I allow hope and lust to fuel my creativity. Kassidy is coming to life in front of me.

I have never sketched any other woman before.

Only Helena.

Never have I sketched without a live subject or photo. This is completely freehand, from memory only.

I recreate the scene from yesterday morning. After our night of passion, I waltz into the bedroom with a cup of coffee to find Kassidy with the sheets tangled around her legs and her long blonde waves spilled over the royal blue pillowcases. She was the picture of pure bliss. Her breast peeked out from the sheet as she stretched her arms above her. With her back arched like a feline, a sleepy grin crept over her face until she was all smiles. Her eyes popped when I moved in to kiss her good morning.

She’s so fucking beautiful. Without realizing it, she is reinventing me. One piece at a time, she is putting together the remnants of my shattered heart.

Once again, I believe.

In life.

In hope.

In love.

Reality slams into me, knocking the wind from my chest.

Love.

I can’t love her. She isn’t mine to love.

She never will be.

Kassidy has a one-way ticket home to Australia, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. 

One thing I’ll forever be grateful for is her presence in my life. If only for five short days, Kassidy has lit my world on fire in the best way.

In less than a week. How is that even possible?

When she leaves, I honestly believe my life will be better because of the five nights I’ve spent with her.

Stepping away from the portrait, my heart swells.

With pride.

My first masterpiece. I can’t wait to show Kassidy.

Speaking of her, the sun has set, and darkness is creeping in and there’s still no response. Opening another beer, I ponder my next move.

Deciding not to message or call her in case she’s sleeping off the day, I shower and prepare for the evening.

The surprise I have planned for Kassidy tonight is something she’ll never anticipate. I hope the bold plans don’t backfire on me. It’s possibly something I should’ve run past her first but, I have no expectations for how the night will go. She’ll have complete control over what does and doesn’t happen.

There’s no way I’ll let our night be ruined because of a bad judgment call. Maybe I should talk to her on the way. If she’s dead against it, I’ll abort the mission.

I make a call. “Boss, it’s Jarett.”

Boss is his nickname, the only name he’s known by in the community.

“Hey, man, what can I do for you? Coming in tonight?” he asks.

“Ah, yeah. Two of us.”

Dead silence falls between us.

“You bringing a buddy to enjoy the show?”

I laugh. He’s never seen me with a woman at the club or otherwise.

“A female friend, yes. Kassidy. She’s visiting from Australia.”

“Shit, good on you, man. Need me to book a room?”

“Tentatively, yes. I’m not sure how perceptive she is yet.”

“Jarett, my man, don’t bring any freak show to my club. She better be open to this and know the deal before you both arrive.”

“All over it,” I confirm. 

“See you tonight.”