Love is a Place Ch. 02: The Solution - Sex Stories

Love is a Place Ch. 02: The Solution

... flat. Hers is a single - no wonder she and Keith are hardly ever here. I text her to tell her. Her reply is almost immediate:

Why? What happened? Is Samantha ok? Are you ok?

Yeah we're fine. I'll tell you tomorrow.

Like hell I will. Like I'm going to confess that I'm some predatory dyke lusting over my best friend and that she's finally worked it out and flipped. As if I'll admit to that. I mean, it was my idea we share the double - it'll seem like this was my goal all along. And I'm not sure it wasn't.

I want to sleep but can't. I feel dead. Like a carcass. My heart is breaking and I don't deserve to feel bad for myself. I feel bad for Samantha instead. This is going to knock her so far back. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I text Amanda, asking her to look in on Samantha when she gets back. If, as I suspect, she's been meddling, well she can reap what she's sown. I ignore her reply. And the three following texts. I reply without looking:

I'll tell you tomorrow.

My phone keeps beeping. I put it on silent.

My mind races. What am I going to do?

I need to find somewhere else to live. Thank God the term ends tomorrow. Samantha is due to go home on Saturday. Maybe if I stay here and work as many extra shifts as I can find, get some temp work for the day times, I can save some money. I've managed not to go overdrawn, but that isn't going to last. Worst case scenario, I drop down to part time and take an extra year to finish so I can work more. My parents can't ...

... contribute shit and my loans only just cover tuition; it's Samantha's parents who pay the rent here. Not that she realises that little arrangement. Another little stab to my conscience. They've been amazing to me, surrogate parents almost, and this is how I repay them? Lusting over and then breaking their precious daughter. Some fucking friend I am.

I wipe my face. I don't deserve to feel sorry for myself, to cry for myself.

Yeah, I'll stay here over Christmas and look for somewhere else to live. I won't go home. It'll be shit anyway, and being here will give me an easy way to avoid Samantha and the exquisite combination of guilt and heartache.

MaybeI should take a valium?

I run and grab one from the locked cabinet in the kitchen, then make it back just before Amanda and Louise come in. I turn off Lydia's light, but bless them, they go straight to Samantha's room. I shouldn't be too hard on them. They've only known her for 18 months. They've never seen her bad. They just don't know.

I'll need to clear out early. I set my phone alarm for 6am. I pop the pill.

Oblivion eventually takes me.

* * *

Despite being as groggy as a dog on dope, I manage to make it out of the flat at 6:30. I've "borrowed" some of Lydia's clothes, and drag myself to the 24 hour computer room. Amazingly, some people are actually here: some look like they've been up all night working on last minute essays. Deadline day today I guess. Mine are all in. That's a small mercy I suppose.

I ...