What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

“You worry about all of them, don’t you?”

“Yes. All the time.”

I let myself into the apartment. Malcolm followed me in. “Go home, dude,” I said. “Thanks, but go home. I’m not even feeling pukey. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I made a quick jerk of my head, but the room started to spin.

“I’m going to go stink up your bathroom before I go. Those tacos aren’t sitting too well.”

“Let yourself out when you’re done, will you? I’m going to sleep.”

“Yep.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I walked into my bedroom, and my heart soared when I saw the lump beneath the covers, And hair the color of honey draped across my pillows. Lynn was home. I quickly got undressed and slipped between the sheets. I grabbed Lynn’s warm body and pulled her toward me. Naked skin skipped across mine.

She opened her eyes, and I could see her in the glow of the streetlight through the open window. “Fuck,” I said. I pushed back, stumbled from under the covers, and stood up beside the bed, holding a pillow over my junk. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

Shelly sat up and let the sheets puddle around her waist, her breasts standing tall, her nipples dusky pink in the pool of light.

Suddenly, the overhead light turned on. I looked up, and my heart nearly burst from my chest when I saw Lynn standing in the bedroom doorway. She froze. Her mouth dropped open. Shelly yanked the covers up to cover her breasts.

“What’s going on?” Lynn asked.

I was stunned speechless. I knew what it looked like. And I also knew what it wasn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet,” Shelly said, scrambling to grab a t-shirt from the floor so she could pull it over her head.

“Well, that’s obvious,” Lynn said. She looked over at me. I still held the pillow to my junk. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Shelly began, still scrambling around.

“No.” I held up a finger. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

“It looks like Shelly’s in my bed.” She tilted her head. “Why is Shelly in my bed?”

“Fuck if I know,” I said, suddenly feeling defeated. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just got here.”

The bathroom door opened down the hall and footsteps sounded on the hardwood. “Oh, holy fuck,” Malcolm said, his gaze jumping from Shelly to Lynn and back again. “You’re both in the same room.”

“Not for long,” Lynn said. She picked up her purse and turned to leave.

“Wait!” I cried. “Don’t you dare leave me with her!”

Lynn stopped walking. She looked at Malcolm. “What’s happening here, Mal?” she asked. “Why was Shelly in my bed?”

“Dude,” he said, turning to stare at me with wide eyes. “She was in your bed?”

I nodded, still holding the pillow over my junk.

“Lynn,” Malcolm said, “we just got here. Nothing happened. I’m sure of it.”

“Did anything happen?” Lynn asked me.

“I rolled over and thought she was you, and then I saw her face and realized she wasn’t. Then you walked in. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

She turned to face Shelly. “And what do you have to say about all this?”