I lean on the brick wall behind me and stare out into the busy Boston street. The traffic is heavy, surprisingly so for this time of night and on a Thursday at that. I inhale a puff a smoke from my cigarette and run my hand through my hair as I wait for Monica to exit the building.

I hear the door open beside me and flick the rest of my cigarette away when Monica walks out. "Hey." I say, giving her a lopsided smile.

"Hey." She gives me a halfhearted smile back and then turns on her heel, walking in the direction of my truck which is parked on the street.

Hey. That's it? I arch my brow as I study her retreating frame from behind. Her steps are quick, almost hurried as she makes her way over to it. What the fuck is that about?

I don't think too much about it as I follow suit. Hopping in my truck I ask, "how was your shift?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yeah. Just fine." There's a twinge of something in her tone that I've never quite heard before.

I look over at her as I start the truck. Fine. Knowing Monica the way I do I'd say that particular tone suggests anything other than the word fine. I look at her for a moment longer, thinking maybe she'll continue talking but she's just staring out the window aimlessly.

Well, okay then...

I pull onto the street and am grateful for the fact that we don't live too far. The entire drive she's quiet, wordlessly fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. She purses her lips every now and again like she wants to say something but is holding back. I don't think I've ever been so god damn confused in my entire life.

Once we're home she quickly jumps out of the truck, hopping down onto the pavement. Her heels click quickly up the steps and through the door, with me trailing in confusion behind her. What the hell is going on? And this is one of the many reasons I don't do relationships.

When I'd dropped her off for her shift this afternoon Monica was all smiles. Now I have no idea what's gotten into her. She's done a complete one-eighty. She's clearly agitated about something even though she's apparently just fine. I eye the complex door and then eye the truck one last time, debating if I should just jump back in and take the fuck off.

Probably not a good idea. Let's just get whatever this is over with.

I let out a hearty sigh before heading inside. Monica's already in her apartment when I get there. I try the handle and it's open, thankfully. For some unknown reason a part of me didn't expect it to be. Once I swing open the door my eyes land directly on her half-naked body. I don't say anything as I watch her change but it's not long before she decides to speak.

"So, that Lola girl who works the bar," Monica begins slipping out of her tight black pants "she really fucking hates me."

"Why do you think that?" Truthfully, I knew that it was because Lola wanted yours truly all to herself, but there was no way I was saying that one to her. No reason to create unnecessary drama.

"Probably because you were fucking her before and now she's being a cunt to me because I'm with you now. That's probably why, Sean." She deadpans as she stands there in her underwear.

Oh life, can you please stop continuously trying to screw me over?

"What are you talking about?" I sound like a fucking lying idiot even to me own ears. I know what she's talking about but I'd much rather plead the fifth on this one.

She sighs and she puts her hands on her hips as she regards me, "I've worked there for all of a few shifts and you don't think I've heard all about your reputation. It's not like I was surprised by any of it, but still. I heard that you and Lola had kind of a friends with benefits relationship going on with each other."

"Relationship? With Lola? No. Fucking. Thank. You." Just no.

"It seems a lot of people thought otherwise."

"Listen, implying that sleeping with someone all of a few fucking times is a friends with benefits type of situation is ridiculous. I've never had a relationship with anyone but you, Monica. Lola isn't really my type anyway."

"Well, she was enough of your type to fuck her a few times." She bites at the skin on her lips in irritation then looks off to the side of the room. "I mean, how many women would you say you've slept with?"

Oh no. We are not fucking doing this right now.

"Nope, try again, sweetheart. That's not a topic that is even remotely up for discussion." I cross my arms over my chest. This topic is a definite no-go zone for me. In all honesty, I couldn't even remember their names let alone how many of them there were.

"Why? I kind of want to know how many of our coworkers you've had your dick in." She crosses her arms over her chest angrily, matching my stance. "I know it's probably anyone with a vagina but I'm just curio-."

"Lose the fucking attitude, Monica." I grit my jaw because I'm fighting back the urge to be a complete fucking asshole. "I'm not asking how many men you've been with because it doesn't fucking matter to me. I'm with you and that's all that matters or, at least, it's all that should matter, Monica."

"I've been with four other guys, Sean. Four, that's it. I wasn't going around sleeping with everyone in the known universe like you were." She shifts her hips, displaying a bit more of her unsavory attitude.

What the fuck did she just say?

"Good for you, Monica. That's fucking fantastic!" I clap my hands giving her a big fat, "Bravo!" in the process. I don't even know why we're going here right now because it's honestly the last place I want to go with her. I don't want to talk about this and I sure as hell don't want to argue with her. "I know my past is shit. We don't need to sit here and reminisce about the things I can't fucking change. But hey, good for you, Monica. Thanks for keeping your fucking legs closed." I continue clapping loudly for her.

"Fuck you, Sean. At least I can count on one hand how many people I've been with. You've probably been with more than your fingers and your toes combined."

What in the actual fuck has gotten into her?

"You're probably right about that one, Mon. Do you want a fucking celibacy prize or what?" I throw my hands in the air. "What are you getting out of this argument anyway? What the fuck are you trying to prove? Before you I was a man-whore, you knew it before deciding to be with me. It's not like it's this big fucking secret. Yes, I have a dick. Yes, I used it. What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Sometimes I just wish you weren't so fucked up!" She screams it and then clamps her hand down over her mouth.

And there it is...

That one fucking hurt. I can't explain exactly why it hurt so bad but it really fucking hurt. From the look on her face she knows she's done some damage. I grit my jaw and give her a few nods not knowing what exactly to say after that.

I know, sweetheart. I'm a fucking terrible, fucked-up human being with a fuck-ton of baggage. Thanks for the reminder.

"Sean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." She tries reaching out for me but I jerk away from her.

"Don't you dare try to fucking touch me after that one, Mon." I spit out angrily. "Don't you try and put your fucking hands on me."

My demons start boiling underneath my skin for the first time in what seems like forever. Monica usually made the demons go away, now she was beckoning them to the surface. Not just to the surface but burning me from the inside out.

"Yeah, you know what, Monica? I wish I wasn't so fucked up either. Sorry I'm not fucking good enough for you. Sorry some cunt I work with got to you so fucking bad you had to fucking lash out at me." I turn around and walk out of her apartment. "See you in a couple of days." I call out over my shoulder.

"Wait, Sean! Fuck! I didn't mean it!" She's calling from inside but she's in her underwear so I know she's not about to come chasing after me.

Should have fucking thought about that before those fucking words left your lips, sweetheart.

I jog my way down the stairs ready to just fucking erase the entire conversation away. I pull out my smokes and light one on my way out. I grab my phone out of my pocket and ring Trevor.

"What's good lover boy?" Usually his tone would make me laugh but not so much right now.

"What's good is that I'm ready to get fucking bent."

"Shit. Something happen with your girl?"

"Something like that."

"Did you double dip your dick? Give her the fire down under?" He chuckles into the phone and it makes me want to tell him to go fuck himself but I don't. Stupid prick.

"Lola mind fucked her and now she thinks I'm the fucking spawn of Satan with a fuck-ton of emotional baggage." I step up into my truck and slam the door.

"You know that's a pretty accurate description of yourself, man."

I do a mental eye roll. "Well, this fucked-up, piece-of-shit, too-much-emotional-fucking-baggage, asshole-of-the-year is about to live up to his fucking reputation." I say as my truck squeals out of the parking lot.

"Ahh, there's the Sean we all know and love." He laughs. "Get over here."

"Already on my way." I hang up the phone, tossing it into the passenger seat.

Time to do what I do best.