His Purple Heart

30 - Use your words

The sound of voices whispering woke me up the next morning. I rolled over and put the pillow over my head, but eventually curiosity got the best of me. My headache was gone, but I still felt sore. I needed water.

I walked into the kitchen and found Trystan leaning with his back to the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand with no shirt on. I paused for a moment. Hot damn. I'd forgotten how tight his abdomen was, how perfectly chiseled his jawline was, how totally fuckable he was.

Wipes drool.

I was so caught up staring at him that I didn't notice the woman standing by the fridge until she moved closer to Trystan. She wore a fashionable pantsuit and medium high heels. She had a head full off curls similar to mine, but hers were more defined and piled high on top of her head in a ponytail with loose curly tendrils hanging to the side.

"Trystan, you could have told me you had a visitor," she said, placing a manicured hand on his biceps. "I wouldn't have come by this early."

Trystan looked at me and then down at the hand on his arm and said nothing. He lifted his coffee cup and took a sip, his clear, but guarded eyes coming back to me like a magnet.

I glanced elsewhere and ran my hand through my sleep mussed hair. "It's okay. I'm only passing through. A cup of tea and an egg sandwich is all I need. After that the place is all yours... to do whatever you like."

"Debra..." He spoke softly, clearly, with a hint of agency.

I turned to face him. The frown lines on his forehead were hard to miss as he contemplated what to say next. I lifted an eyebrow in question, but all I got was silence. I pushed past the two of them and took two eggs out of the fridge. Behind me I heard the kettle come to life.

"I'm Carrie by the way. Trystan's agent." She held her hand out to me and I pretended not to notice as I looked through Trystan's cupboards looking for salt and pepper.

"Nice to meet you, Carrie. I'm Debra," I said with my head buried in the cupboard.

I approached the counter and Trystan handed me a bowl. I whispered thank you and proceeded to crack the eggs into it.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see a woman here." Carrie grinned and looked at Trystan. "This one is usually overly grumpy," she continued, "but this morning when I knocked, he was grumpier than usual and I wondered why. If the two of you haven't fucked yet, then get at it. There's way too much sexual tension hanging in the air right now. Holy shit. I need to go home and fuck my husband."

I nearly choked on my own spit. The whisking came to a complete stop as I replayed what I'd just heard. I couldn't turn around to look at Trystan, my cheeks warm with embarrassment.

"Carrie," Trystan said, "I think you're projecting your lack of sex on us. Stop being stubborn for once and tell your husband you want him."

She tilted her head to the side. "I think I'll do just that. Right after you sign these papers. Calvin Klein is going to be thrilled to have you on their team." She slid some papers across the counter and Trystan signed them, and then she was gone, leaving Trystan and I to deal with the heavy tension hanging like a stinky fart between us.

This tension was more than sexual. It was the uncertainty of what our relationship meant. If we were going to move forward from here or call it quits.

"I, ah, I'm going to go home," I said as I plated my egg and got bread from the breadbasket. "I want to check out the damage at my place and I don't want to get in your way by staying here."