You are trying to sneak back into your room like a bloody teenager after the iconic walk of shame. You quietly open the door and brace yourself for Thea’s assault. It doesn’t follow. You sigh in relief. She is probably receiving another massage from Tom. Or giving one to him. You tread in and fall on the bed.
Your body feels funny. Tired, wobbly, and as if thinned out. Every joint seems to complain. You slept for three hours, and now it feels like your brain rebels. You shed your clothes and set your alarm. You really need to sleep.
The first dream is familiar. It is a dream of waking up in his arms. This time, though, it’s not painfully embarrassing, and doesn’t feel like an impending apocalypse, like it had all those numerous times before. It actually feels like it felt just a few hours ago. His skin is warm, and he’s nuzzling you behind your ear. Elwig was right – Dr Dark and Sexy never sleeps. You catch his lips, and he sighs contently.
The second dream is a weird concoction of some ballroom dances, Cinderella-ish running down some glamourous stairs, after dancing in his arms. It’s probably the anxiety before the High Tea Party, but your mind keeps on pushing the Disney imagery onto you. They will definitely find out that you are not a princess, and then you will have to turn into a pumpkin. Or kiss a frog.
The blaring alarm jolts you out of the sleep. You drag your sorry arse into the shower. Your mind didn’t get any clearer, but at least you will look a bit fresher. If you are lucky.
You walk out of the shower and find Thea inspecting her stripy top you carefully folded and put on her bed.
“Well, hello there…” Oh no, that’s Thea’s judging tone.
“Did I stain it?”
“No, Wren, it is in the perfect condition. And that, my dear, is alarming. Was there any tearing off clothes involved or not?”
You texted Thea after round one to let her know you are not returning to the room. The answer was: ]You better not.’ Typical Thea.
“Yes, a bit, but I tried to be careful with your favourite top, Thea.”
“Uh-huh…” She looks at you skeptically. “Wren, I am worried about you. You don’t look elated and triumphant.” She gestures ‘bunny ears’ of quotation marks around each adjective. ” Look at yourself!”she continues. “You’re frowning and wriggling your hands.”
You actually are, and make yourself stop.
“Oh my God, he wasn’t any good! Oh, Wren were we wrong about him this whole time?!” She looks so sympathetic! Bloody hell, she looked less sympathetic when your proposal for that Richardson grant was rejected.
And that’s actually a very good opportunity to weasel your way out of telling her everything in excruciating details. You can say you don’t want to talk about it, you just have to plaster a disappointed grimace on your face. You open your mouth but her eyes are on the lovebite on your collar bone. Shite.
“How many, Wren?” Bollocks.
“How many of what, Thea?”
“Times, Wren.” She stalks towards you. “How many times did you shag Dr Dark and Sexy?”
Lie, lie, run for your life! Whom are you kidding, she’ll know. You lower your head.
“Eight. Well, nine, but that time in the shower it was just for me…” She squeals in delight.
“Give me the numbers, Wren.”
“I don’t know, Thea…”
“Wren.” She’s as much as growling menacingly. “Numbers!”
You defiantly lift your chin.
“I’m not evaluating him, Thea. It’s special.”
“Of course it is, Wren…” She’s murmuring now in a purry tone, and it’s even scarier. “How special?”
You sit on your bed and decorously cross your legs. Big mistake. The robe slips, and your thigh is naked. Bollocks, the teeth marks. You pull the flap to cover up again. Thea’s smirking.
“Thea, I’m not discussing the sex. It was good, very good. Maybe, the best I’ve ever had. And that’s all you are getting.” She hums and sits near you.
“If it was so good, why aren’t you singing about it on every corner?”
“There are some issues…”
“Oh…” She rounds her lips, and looks sympathetic again. “He is close to fifty after all…”
“God, not performance issues, Thea! Emotional stuff.”
“Let’s do it this way, Wren. You will give me numbers, and then you can whine about emotional stuff.”
“No, Thea, I am really not in the mood. And I need to get ready for my luncheon with the interns. And then the meeting with Elwig, and… I love him.”
The silence rings in the room, and Thea’s staring at your with enormous eyes.
“Wren..” You cover your face with your hands.
“I don’t know why I said it. I was so fucking tired of keeping it inside this whole time with him, so I just…”
She hugs your shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Wrennie.”
You laugh but it sounds suspiciously like a sob.
“I am not dying, Thea. The world isn’t ending, and altogether, it isn’t a tragedy. It still might be fine… Maybe he loves me too… A bit at least…” You bury your face into her neck. She’s stroking your hair.
“Even if he miraculously loves you more than you love him, it’s still a tragedy, Wren. It never ends well.”
“It might!” You jerk your head up and look at her. “We can be happy, and love each other, and understand, and care…”
“And get married, Wren?” You gasp. “Isn’t it what you were thinking just right now? Because with all your smartness and independence, you are a marrying type, Wren. And that is what you want. And babies, Wren, you want children.”
“Bullshit, Thea, I’m too young…”
“You love babies, Wren. And you want his babies. Tell me you haven’t though of a dark haired, blue-eyed toddler running around and screaming ‘Dada!’ to him, and the three of you hugging!”
You weren’t, honestly. But you dreamt about it. Repeatedly. You feel tears running down your face.
“How many children do you want with Dr John Thorington, Wren?”
Thea’s tone is cold. You know what she’s doing. She’s performing an emotional surgery – cut off the infected flesh, clean the wound before it rots. And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. But you are grateful. How many times, if it hadn’t been for her, you would allow yourself fantasies and illusions and wallow in self pity?
“Four, I want to have four of his children. Three boys and a girl.”
“Then pull yourself together and fight!”
You smile though your tears. She smiles back.
“Suck it up, Leary. No feeling sorry for yourself, no sad arse drooping mouth, suck it up, Wren!” You straighten your shoulders. “As mental as I think it is, you chose your man, Wren. Now pick up your glorious arse and get him!” You nod and hug her.
“Thank you, Thea.”
“You are welcome, Wren. Now give me the bloody numbers!” You guffaw.
“Ten, ten, ten, nine and a half, and ten.”
“No! No one is that perfect,” she squeaks.
“He is, Thea. He is majestic. And his cock has a curve.”
“Yes.” You tilt your head. “Like that.”
Thea is clapping her hands in delight.
“And the non-penetration skills also get a ten?”
“Thea, I would give him an eleven if it was on the scale.”
“Alright, but how come the cock got a nine and a half?”
You lean closer and whisper, “It is too big. I’m so sore, I am dying here.”
“Wren!” She is full of righteous indignation. “There is no such thing as too big.”
“You would think, Thea, but I’m telling you, it is so glorious that it is too much.” She is considering it.
“Alright, Wren, not to make you uncomfortable but I just have to know – is it better than his nephew’s?” You snort.
“Are you kidding me, Thea? Now that I have acquainted myself with… Mr Big and Glorious…” Thea roars with laughter. “Everyone else loses at least five points in comparison.”