OUT OF TOUCH

Chapter 8| Post nut clarity

Chapter 8: Post nut clarity

Christopher

I pulled up just outside the small fence, so small you could see every inch of the house down to the dark marble flooring that covered the entire expanse. Then I alighted the white Lexus with the canine in my arms and barely managed to put the car on lock.

"Be a good girl and stop wriggling, goddamn it. Let's understand I'm not so fond of you and we'll have no problems in the future, aiit?"

I could have sworn the little creature pouted and stared at me in a sulk before blinking those large brown orbs for eyes and topped the guilt trip by hanging down her ears and making a small whine.

"Detestable piece of scum." I grumbled before going through the brown gate just about my height.

Getting to the front door, I worked towards calming my nerves first. Tracy had arrived home yesterday just two weeks after she left. Lonely didn't come close to how I felt since then. So lonely, I might have jerked off to her name one time which was weird. I could not remember the last time I masturbated as I had always, the option of hooking up with a girl.

Texting helped, I would admit. Being in constant touch despite the distance was a huge help. Although more than half the time, Tracy would talk about her obsession with Instagram. That was a girl that once preferred to bury her face in Facebook memes or just binge-watch movie series than be so active on the gram. That one mutual idea we shared misted when she became an artiste and got excited by the number of hearts she received under every vlogs she made. Not that I was complaining, her page had been fun to skim through. Yes, I might have been stalking her Instagram while she was gone.

On the flip side, I passed time by slowly and reluctantly coming out of my shell once again. Being reclusive when I was younger was me dwelling in my company alone due to social anxiety but just hating the company of others. Now, I was people phobic because I didn't want to get hurt anymore.

Much as I wanted to be on my own and holler fuck family for the rest of my life, deep down, I not only hated but feared solitude. I've been there so I knew what it was like. Act like a dick and ghost friends, but that very moment you needed someone, anyone at all, you stare at the wall and come to terms with how stupid you've been.

I made sure it was on my own terms <I deserve that much>, when I hung out with Maxwell and I made sure to guard my feelings a bit around him. I didn't even agree to meet my mom until much later and only twice so far. I had maintained a good two meters distance between us like she had the flu and she noticed my action with sad eyes much to my fuckless concern.

We tried to catch up on each other's lives, painstakingly tried. I had to simmer down my resentment on several occasions and she had nothing much to talk about except her cellmate whose name slipped off my mind the minute she mentioned it.

The conversations we had was based on excuses and apologies for not being there for me and causing a shitty dilemma between my foster dad and I. Then she opened a subject of me meeting with my grandparents, the Whales family who lost their only son and whose only compensation would be me, their grandson. A nice fuck no was a surety to that proposition. I didn't even know of my biological dad, no, sperm donor until about three weeks ago and I wasn't even sure what surname would bring me less disgust. Whales or Thompson. Or maybe Wilson. Just fuckery set ablaze soaring to the sky in ashes of the words bull of absolute shit.

I pushed the small button looking like a stuck chewed up gum on the wall before cocking my head up to see the security cam in a limpid globular case at the corner. The doorbell buzzed out a battered looking Tracy with locks cascading down her shoulders, tired half open eyes and still in some mickey mouse pyjamas at ten o'clock sun up.