I fidget around in my seat for a couple of minutes before realizing that we aren't moving anymore. The engine's purring, I can feel the AC blowing in my direction, but the vehicle itself is not accelerating forward. Houston, we have a problem.

Without forward motion towards our destination, how am I supposed to escape this cramped space with Mr. M? More importantly, how long will I be able to keep up my poker face and act like I normally would? Hell, I can settle into Clueless Phoebe but sooner or later I'm sure that she'll say something damning. Clueless people always do.

'Oh well. Let's face this head on.' My inner cheerleader and warrior merge words together into a pep talk with commanding force. 'LET'S DO THIS!!'

I open my eyes to realize two things simultaneously.

One, I took a nap without realizing it and two, we are in my apartments parking garage.
Which makes me thankful but confused, surely Mr. M could've shaken me gently awake to tell me that we made it.

Though, I am surprised that I fell asleep in the first place, because honestly, there's no way I should've been relaxed enough to snooze. Especially not with tensions being the way they were before I closed my eyes.

'I do love my naps though.' I think to myself shrugging.

After successfully peeking at Mr. M, I can deduct that he either hasn't recognized that we've made it or he just doesn't care. But then again it looks to me like he's having his own inner rambling session going on.

'It's best not to bother him, just let the man talk to himself in peace Phoebe.' A tranquil voice whispers in my mind, almost as if it'll break the quiet of the car if it's too loud.

But I do grab the gear shift and place the car in park. Mr. M's foot may be on the brake pedal, nevertheless I just want to be sure that we don't end up rolling into another car or the wall. That definitely wouldn't make matters any better between us.

After brief deliberation, I soon decide to just cut off the car and to take the keys out of the ignition. It's not like it's crazy hot inside of the parking garage and even then I could just open the door to get fresh air.

Mr. M doesn't acknowledge my safety precautions, hell, he doesn't even blink irregularly. His posture is stiff like he's still driving, both hands are clenched on the steering wheel, and he's starring ahead of him like he wants to smash the car into whatever problem his mind has conjured up. It should look intimidating but the undivided focus on his face simply intrigues me.

My phone pings and I stare at Mr. M's face to see if he hears it. I may not want to have 'THE TALK' with him but his eerie silence nags at my eardrums. I abandon my search for a reaction after I stare at him long enough to where I feel like a privileged stalker.

The phone in my hand phone pings again so I look down at it to see a message from Rachel, asking me to cover her shift later this week. Rachel doesn't give me a reason and she knows that I don't require one. After all, I definitely didn't tell her why I needed her last minute to cover my shift some time ago.

For all I know, she's skipping work for amazing orgasms like I did. If Rachel has a big smile on her face when we come in for our early morning shift Thursday, then I'll know someone or something went down.

'And I won't say a damned thing about it. We are all deserving of privacy.' I think to myself as I type a simple conformation to Rachel letting her know that I got her back.

The text sends and I check my other unread messages, which are all from Ross. They go from ecstatic to depressing as I scroll up to read some of the first texts.

It's the last picture message that has me up the stairs in a hurry, ready to rip his heads off. Yeah I said heads.

"Ross!" I scream at my closed apartment door.

Part of me is smug that even in my haste, I still automatically grab my purse. TTG at it's finest. Hell, my phone's still in my hand, not that I care about it much as I throw open my unlocked door.

My shout didn't spook them, but the sound of the door knob ricocheting hard off the wall sure did.

To her credit, Meghan did move fast-but not before she let out a terrified shriek. The look in her eyes tells me that she's praying I didn't see her riding my best friend like he's a gold medal race horse, which-of course I did.

It's not the fact that they're having sex on my couch that grinds my gears. What makes me heated is the fact that my best friend wrapped his girlfriend's bare ass in-

"-MY FAVORITE BLANKET! Are you kidding me!?" I roar.

Ross snaps out of his shock and moves Meghan out of the way so that he can stand up to face me. I have to give the man props, Ross doesn't even bother to pull up his pants and he doesn't look a bit embarrassed.

So, I do what any self respecting best friend would do, I discreetly (meaning I didn't just point blank stare) check out what Ross has to work with. It's not disappointing.

Compared to Mr. M, the only other male's penis I've seen up close, Ross doesn't have the girth but he looks a tad longer. His penis looks like it curves to the left too. No wonder Meghan's hooked.

I finish my quick evaluation and gather my anger just in time to hear Ross snap at me.

"What else was I supposed to use Phoebe? She was cold." His frustration with me is clear. That tends to happen when you barge into a sexy situation before it's concluded.

"Yeah, I bet she was real cold while riding your-" I cut myself off and glance at Meghan, who's still in my blanket.

I stick out my hand to her, and the idiot puts her hand in mine! Like we're about to go for a casual stroll through the park. I hiss in annoyance, tighten my grip on her hand, and pull her up from the couch.

Before she can say anything, or tighten her grip on my blanket, I tug the fabric away from her slim body. She squeaks out in embarrassment but I don't know what she does next because I'm already making my way to the washer and setting the water to hot. I'm not germ-a-phobic enough to wash the blanket multiple times, but I do know that only really hot water can get rid of most things. Along with generous amounts of soap.

Out of genuine decency, I grab one of my lesser blankets for her. It's soft and actually pretty nice, but it isn't the one that's gotten me through countless movie marathons with Ross at his cold ass apartment. Plus, it doesn't have the feel, length, or thickness ratio that's just perfect for me.

I walk back into my tiny living room to notice that Mr. M was in my kitchen, leaning against the counter. I take a second to wonder about how long he's been there before I have a slight panic attack over Meghan's damn near naked body. I may not care to see people naked, due mostly to being comfortable with my own body, but that doesn't mean I'd purposely show their bodies to others. It's a personal choice to be an overall kind human being.

I make my way to Meghan to notice that Ross has already covered her up in his shirt and he has also pulled up his pants. Now he's shirtless, but at least his dick isn't out anymore. I hear the cold makes things shrink, and I have my air conditioning on.

Meghan looks grateful when I offer her the replacement blanket, however, she looks close to crying when I tell her where my bathroom is. I guess she's a freak in private but a prude in front of company.

Ross turns to me when she's out of sight and it's then that I see the true depth of his anger. His chest starts heaving in and out, nostrils flared, and his mouth open ready to shout at me.

I cut off his rant before he can even say a word.

"I don't want to hear it. Y'all were broken up when I left earlier today and now I catch you fucking on my couch. Be happy that I'm not charging for dry cleaning." I give him my best glare but it doesn't even phase him.

"Phoebe. What the fuck man? All this over a stupid blanket! You're being childish." Ross chastises.

I lower my head in fake shame before bringing it back up and challenging him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that we were in your house. The bills are in the filing cabinet, feel free to pay them." I snap with a scowl on my face.

Ross doesn't bother to say another word to me as he leaves for the bathroom. It didn't feel good to put him in his place but I can act however I see fit in my domicile.

Mr. M wraps his arms around my waist and I jump from the unexpected contact. In all honesty I had forgotten that he was here.

He pulls me to him with my back against his chest. The only thing running through my mind is the fact that he may be doing this to his ex wife in the near future. I feel him kiss the weak spot behind my ear and I nearly melt.

"I thought he left hours ago." Mr. M admits.

"I did too, until I saw his damn text." I reply.

"What did it say?" He asks.

"It wasn't about the words, because it simply said that they were back together. It was the pic that went with it. And in that picture they were cuddled up on the couch in my blanket. My favorite blanket. The one that has the best texture, the best length for me to tuck my feet in, and the only one thick enough to keep me warm if we ever go into another Ice Age." I rant.

Mr. M takes in all of my words without a reply. Instead he just holds me, which makes me think back to him going back to his ex wife. The women he's known for forever. The woman he was, maybe even is, in love with. The women he has no problem claiming.

I can feel my spine stiffening up in Mr. M's continued closeness and I try to fight it. Instinctively I know that it's a losing battle. So I do the next best thing, I fake indignation and wrestle my way free so that he won't suspect that I just don't want him holding me anymore.

"And if you think that I'm childish or overreacting, then fine. I'll tell you the same thing, the bills are in my filing cabinet so feel free to pay them if you want a say-so." I snap.

Instantly, I regret saying the words because I don't know how much Mr. M has in the bank and I'm pretty sure that he CAN pay all of my bills. The idea is nice in theory but I don't want anyone to hold that kind of leverage over me.

This can either go one of two ways, but Mr. M has a completely different route in mind. Rather than speaking, he rolls his eyes and walks away towards my kitchen.

"Ask Ross and the female if they're staying for dinner." Commands a muffled voice from the inside of my pantry.

"Dinner?" I ask confused, not even angry about the fact that he expects for me to cook.

Mr. M pokes his head out and gives me a long look, expecting obedience. He realizes that I'm non compliant and sighs.

"I'm hungry, therefore I'll be making dinner. Ask your friends if they want to join so I can know how much I'll have to make." Mr. M says patiently.

I nod my head and turn to go.

"Her name is Meghan by the way." I say over my shoulder before leaving the area.

Throughout our entire scene, not once did Ross or I say Meghan's name. Which is probably why Mr. M elected to call her 'The Female.'

I knock on the bathroom door and Ross opens it. We look at each other long and hard before nodding in peace. Even I can't really explain how he and I can speak without words, but it's useful. He knows that using my blanket and having sex on my couch, but I'm not really pressed about that (nearly having sex in a bookstore then having sex on an office desk has taught me perspective), was wrong. And I know that I could've handled the situation better.

"You guys want to stay for dinner?" I ask.

They did, so Ross and I spent the time rehashing on old stories to make our partners laugh. By the time they left it was late.

It was only good manners to clean up since Mr. M cooked but he insisted on helping me out. I did the dirty work of washing while he rinsed. By this time I had already changed out of my dress and was wearing comfortable sweats.

"So, are we not going to talk about what you heard?" Mr. M inquires nonchalantly out of the blue.

I drop the plate in my hand and it clangs when hitting the bottom of the sink. I stretch my arms over my head as a diversion.

'Think fast Phoebe!' I yell in my head.

"Wha-" I try to ask, but the look Mr. M gives me shuts me up.

We don't speak as we finish cleaning up my kitchen. I never thought that I'd be grateful to household chores when trying to avoid confrontation. As I put up my dish cloth, I decide that I'd better go on the offense.

"Well, it's getting late and I have homework." I say while crossing my arms.

Mr. M's face changes from stoic to livid.

"So you're just not going to talk to me?" He growls out.

"I have homework." I repeat lamely.

"That you seemed to have forgotten about-until now." Mr. M states. He then crosses his arms as well and leans back onto a counter while crossing his bare feet too.

"I was distracted."

"Ha! But fine Phoebe, we'll move on to the next matter. What exactly was your plan? To never speak to me again?" He asks tilting his head to the side.

I sigh dramatically. "What are you talking about?"

"I never said yes."

"You also never said 'No'." I dumbly retort. Dammit.

Instead of smirking at his victory, Mr. M just gazes over me with his piercing blue eyes. I know deep down that he knew I was lying, so him not smiling over catching me on it isn't a victory to celebrate, but more like the truth coming to light.

"What happened to honest communication?" He sighs out, looking utterly spent.

"Were you going to tell me about her? Ever?" I ask.

"I don't know," Mr. M responds tiredly, "but I do know that you're being a coward."

"Excuse me!" I yell defensively. "I just wanted to give you space for your decision! It's not like this means anything."

Mr. M's eyes turn glacier cold and I know that I've gone too far. Hell, the words even lash me a bit, drawing first blood.

"You're right. It was foolish for me to ever get into a relationship with a child." His scathing words hit me right in the chest.

"I'm far from a child or this would've been illegal, not to mention immoral. And it's not my fault that you were in college when I was born. I didn't tell you to approach me, you did it on your own."

I rant on because Mr. M refuses to speak, and because I can feel some anger along with tears building up. The only way to stop them was for me to keep going.

"Plenty of men go back to their ex wives and I'm sure she's beautiful." I seethe, angry that I sound so insecure.

"You never asked me." Mr. M mummers shaking his head.

"I don't need too! We are both adults. All you have to do is tell me and I can easily move on." I rant not really paying attention to my words while trying to hold back a Hoover Dam's worth of tears.

"Fine."

"Fine?" I ask. By now I had moved onto my next ranting topic so his word stopped me up short.

"Yes, fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted and it's been apparent to me for a while now that you and your 'friend'-" He says the word with so much contempt,"are a perfect for each other. Not only do you all have history but he also has the right equipment to be a great lay. Which I know you've noticed."

I open my mouth for a rebuttal but Mr. M continues with his tirade. It's odd to see a man with seemingly calm posture spewing out words as heated as lava. My tears dry up as my blood gets heated.

"And you won't even have to worry about that girl friend of his! They'll break up soon, just bide your time. Chin up Phoebe! At least you won't have to put 'It's Complicated' on your facebook page anymore. With Ross, you can put 'In a Relationship.' That's what you really want, right?"

"I feel bad for you Mr. M. What's going to be your status? 'I was married then divorced, then had a fling with a college student, then got married again with my ex wife'?" I shoot back with venom. Completely ignoring his comments about Ross.

Now Mr. M and I are face to face. Anger radiating off of both of us in waves. My mind isn't thinking rationally, right now I want my words to cause pain because lordt knows I'll be licking my own wounds tomorrow.

"You weren't the only one." Mr M states with acid. His lip curls up like those cartoon villains. Not really a smile, but definitely smug.

I recoil back like he slapped me. I even feel the tears building up again just ready to spill over, but it doesn't stop me from delivering the final blow of the night.

"And you won't be my last."

Without another word, Mr. M charges out of my kitchen, grabs his things without delay, and slams my apartment door shut in his departure.

The man didn't even stop to put on his shoes.

AN: Phew! Happy Humpday! This chapter is barely over 3,200 words. Don't forget to comment and/or vote! 😁💫🌌🌟😘