Faults
A Short Story
I hate the way she laughs. A full-bodied contortion that pitches her forward to display an eyeful of cleavage. Purposefully done, I’m sure. I watch Frank to see if he falls for the bait.
Whap!
His eyes jerk to the pull of her lure. My beer hits the table with a jarring force. They both stare at me quizzically.
Dina arches an eyebrow. She doesn’t even have the courtesy to blush. After six years of friendship, I know her game.
Frank is my new guy, but I really like him. We met online. He was selling a backpack on marketplace. I didn’t need a bag, but I did need those blue eyes and that lopsided grin.
Six whirlwind weeks, and this was our first public foray. I should’ve known better.
…
Later, lying sweaty in our respective puddles, I ask Frank,
“what do you think of Dina?”
He doesn’t look at me when he answers.
“She’s ok.”
I nod to myself. It’s an answer too short, full of sentences unsaid.
My phone dings from the nightstand. A little fire burns in my belly, a worm of worry.
“I can’t go tomorrow, ttyl,” I type without reading her message.
