More Than a Memory by Marie James Page B

finger-fucking yourself minutes after spending the fucking day with me watching movies. You’re not innocent in all of this.”
    My cheeks flush even more; this time from embarrassment. I didn’t even take into consideration that Bryson could hear what was going on the other night in my room.
    “Were you thinking of me while you were talking to him, obeying every dirty command he gave you?” I don’t justify his question with an answer. “Have you even told him I’m here, Olivia ? Does he know your eyes follow every move I make? Have you shared with him that you practically drool at the sight of me? Is he aware that I get hard every time you lick your perfect fucking lips? Have you shared all that with him?”
    He gets hard around me? For some reason, the knowledge that I affect him makes me happy.
    I inwardly chastise myself at the thought. All the things he just said, and that’s the tidbit I hold on to?
    I turn my attention away from the tub and stare at him in stunned silence, unable to formulate the words to explain things to him. My mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound comes out.
    “Forget about it,” he sighs. Pointing to the tub, he says, “You don’t have to keep scrubbing the goddamn tub. There’s nothing to clean. She swallowed every last drop.”
    He storms away, leaving me staring at the empty doorway until the slam of his bedroom door forces my eyes closed. That is not how I saw this morning going.
    I’m still sitting on the floor watching the door when I see him walk by several long minutes later. The front door closes with a slam and strained silence fills the apartment. I only get up from the floor when my knees begin to scream at me. The hard tile is no place to wallow in my emotions.
    After returning the cleaning supplies to the kitchen, I head back into the clean bathroom to shower. The hot water sloshing over my body helps relieve some of the tension in my stressed muscles, but it doesn’t fully abate the rigidity that has been building in them since last night.
    Coffee is next on my agenda, even though I want nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep until the frustration and confusion over my feelings for Bryson goes away. I’ve been alone for months, but today, for some reason, the pull of interaction is stronger than most. Guilt at how I spoke to him clouds my already depressed mind. It’s apparent, on both our parts, feelings neither of us want for each other are there.
    I carry my coffee to the living room and pick up my phone from the table. I turn it in my hands, over and over, until hitting the familiar number on my contact list.
    “Olivia?” her voice is near frantic, and that makes me even sadder. “Is everything okay?” Emotion bubbles in her tone.
    “I’m fine, Momma.”
    Her sigh of relief makes me feel even worse. “You haven’t called me momma in a long time. It’s good to hear from you, baby. Are you sure everything is okay? You never call.”
    “I called last week,” I correct.
    “You only called because you didn’t want Mr. Daniels living there. Is that what this call is about? I’m not breaking his lease unless he’s done something reprehensible.”
    I’m certain her definition of reprehensible and mine aren’t the same.
    “Has he hurt you, Ollie?”
    “No, Momma. He’s fine.”
    As much as I don’t want him pulling the crap he did last night, I don’t want him gone. Given time, I can get over whatever this sick fascination is I have for him, and I pray he can do the same.
    “I’m just super lonely today. I was wondering if you could grab some things from the store for me. I can text you a list.”
    “How about I pick you up and we go shopping together?” I hate hearing the hope in her voice when I know I’m just going to crush her excitement.
    “Not today, Momma. If you’re busy, I can just place the order online. They deliver pretty quickly at the beginning of the week.” I’m not trying to manipulate her, but leaving