I stayed in Carter's bed, still naked, the sheet clutched to my chest, and listened. The beauty of a New York apartment when eavesdropping is its size. I heard clearly the moment when he opened the door, and I heard the surprise in his voice when he said her name.
"Presa?"
I don't know why he was surprised. I knew who it was as soon as the doorbell rang. I mean, come on. I saw the way she looked at him. More importantly, I saw the way she looked at me. As if I were nothing but should be squashed anyway. Just in case. I stood up and walked to the door, my hand on the doorknob. Carter had left the door ajar; he'd had boxer briefs on, nothing else. I peeked through the crack and saw the elaborate skirt of Presa's dress pooling about her feet in the foyer.
"It's not a good time." Carter spoke quietly. "Which I'm sure you know."
"Don't be silly. I came by for a drink. It was so nice to see you tonight."
"Chloe is here. My girlfriend? You met her tonight."
The girlfriend reference again. And again, I wasn't sure if he was just saying it just to needle her, using it as a tool to create distance.
"Oh. The little blonde."
That irritated me. Even more than the middle-of-the-night booty call. I looked for my dress but it was on the other side of the bedroom, hanging off a chair.
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"You should go. It's inappropriate, you being here." He moved a little, as if to usher her out.
"I thought you liked a party." Her voice sounded as if she hadn't moved an inch. "She doesn't like to share?"
"I don't want to share. Or be shared. I'm not going back into that world with you, Presa." He sounded tired. I guess discussing threesomes was exhausting. "Please leave."
Yes, Presa, I thought. Please leave before I run out of this room, completely naked, to smack that entitled smirk off your face. I hated being hidden away in the bedroom, like a child who might say something inappropriate. It wasn't Carter's fault, but still. I could feel myself getting pissed at him, could feel the early stages of a fight building. I opened the door further just to let in fresh air.
"Stop." That was Carter and the word was muffled. I stuck my head out of the door to try and see what was happening. I could hear the sounds of feet scuffling across the floor, and as I craned my neck, I could see Carter trying to push her through the door. The anger coursed through me. Who did she think she was? When, with a yelp of indignation, Presa finally reached the hall, his hand shutting the door quickly, the latch flapped shut, I was ready to go out there myself, damn my nakedness, and give her a piece of my mind.
Carter turned toward me, his eyes meeting mine. He looked tired, sad. And below, I stared at the shock of her lipstick, bright red on his mouth.
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