Walking The Line Ch. 09

"Ugh, I really don't want to put on my old clothes." Avery sniffs, giving the discarded outfit she threw onto the now-wet bathroom floor a pointed look, as if they're dishrags and not higher-end pieces.

Chris snorts, trying and failing to control his amusement. Avery rolls her eyes, clearly not appreciating his insensitivity towards her plight. It's still difficult to see in the dark, but she fumbles about and manages to collect her clothing in one fell swoop, holding it out from her like it's a snake that may bite.

"Would you stop?" Chris groans, shuffling out of the bathroom as he hunts for new clothing. He stuffs himself into a fresh t-shirt, not planning to leave the house anytime soon, considering the typhoon battering against his house. "You came here drenched in the first place."

Avery pauses at the threshold of the master bedroom, a bit timid as she glances around the place, barely able to make sense of the room through the darkness.

It slowly dawns on Chris that perhaps her trepidation is not because of his messy bedroom, but the subject matter itself. He coughs, trying to find a way to change the subject without seeming too obvious.

Luckily, Avery is on the ball as usual. Their tornado fiasco aside, ever since the first time they poured their feelings out to each other and agreed to start cheating, they haven't been taking this whole thing particularly seriously. It's been lighthearted, and Chris can appreciate that, but part of him wants more, maybe not necessarily with Avery in a romantic sense. She's a pretty girl, of course, with a lot going for her. But his heart hurts for anybody he's close to. He could see their relationship easily becoming friends with benefits, but it's not his place to push it there. If she wants to unload her burdens, she has to be the one to initiate such an act. Chris refuses to make her uncomfortable, to be the one to change whatever precarious thing they have going on.

But sometimes, when he allows himself to dream, he envisions meeting Avery at a bar and becoming friends with her like anybody else. A very dangerous part of him is almost willing to make a Faustian bargain. He wants so desperately for them to have a normal relationship. But it's impossible, seeing as moral dilapidation if the core of their being together. Their house's foundation is built on lies and despair. If he takes that away, like a piece of a Jenga tower, what's left of them?

Does he know Avery well enough to want to be her friend? Does he have any right to wish for that?

And while he's thinking about it, just how much does Avery even know about him?

"Chris?" Avery demands, stomping over to him and crossing her arms over her chest. Chris reels, taking a step backwards in alarm and almost falling over.

"Huh?" He says dumbly, bringing himself back to the present moment.

"I said your name a few times, but it looked like you were loading."

"Did you hear a dial-up sound?" He asks, both concerned about how he could drift so easily in her presence, to the point of almost being rude, but also finding her anger cute. She gets riled up easily, but not in a serious way.

She huffs, puffing out her cheeks as she rolls her eyes, decidedly done with his not-so-charming attempts to distract her. "You think you're so funny."

"I am."

"Clowns are also funny."

"At least clowns get paid, I'm doing this for free." He sighs heavily as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his bottoms on, and then starts on his socks. Avery tentatively begins to put on her soaked clothing, seemingly giving up on that fight. There's no way in hell Chris is lending her his clothes, no matter how badly he wants to see her tiny form dwarfed in his oversized shirts and pants. If someone found his stuff mixed in with hers, it'd be over for them.

"But seriously, are you okay?" She places a hand to his forehead, and Chris's heart stops. She feels him momentarily before stepping backward, seemingly satisfied at having found nothing.

Chris stares at her wordlessly for a moment, and she shrugs. "I thought you might have a fever; you really did space out for a while there."

Chris flushes as he feels a new wave of guilt. He was imagining being friends with her, leaving what they have now in the past, and here she is, concerned for his health like a doting mother. Just what is wrong with him? He needs to get a grip.

"I'm fine, it's just-" He cuts himself off as the train reaches the station, having been derailed long ago. Something clicks, and he's suddenly on the offensive. "Hey, wait, that's not fair. Why are you acting saintly, caring for me, but I can't care for you?"

"I'm not sick, Chris." Her voice is deadpan, but her lips quirk up in a slight smile, bemused by Chris's voice pitching up as he throws a faux tantrum.

"No, I mean, when you first got here. You looked like a drenched cat, all needy and-"

"I did not!" Avery cries out, which only spurs Chris's teasing on even more.

"I should have called animal control instead. Now you're in here, trying to steal my clothes. What's next, my food?" He demands, and she ponders the thought, smiling devilishly.

She taps a finger to her chin, almost comically thinking over his words as if they were a genuine offer. "I am hungry."

"Oh dear god."

"Since I looked like a drenched cat, take responsibility for your analogy, and the said cat you adopted."

"I was just worried, is all," Chris says quietly, staring at the floor as Avery drips everywhere.

Silence envelopes them, save for the rain, which threatens to break all the windows down with the sheer force it uses to pelt the reinforced glass. The wind howls. Chris feels his blood begin to chill as the heat from his skin cools, and his stomach twists nervously.

Avery lays a hand on Chris's head, ruffling his hair obnoxiously. "This is what I wanted, Chris. This is what makes me feel better."

"But see it from my perspective," Chris mutters, and Avery cocks her head to the side. "As a guy, I mean. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

Avery winces, but Chris is in too deep, so he decides to take the plunge and lay all his cards out on the table. "That might be how guys feel better, even alone." Avery snorts, and Chris smiles quietly, not having meant to bring up masturbation, but somehow their conversations tend to end up there some way or another. "But as a woman, I don't know, I just..." He lets his thoughts trail off, and Avery tenses.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." Avery begins, and Chris furrows his eyebrows, confused by her statement. "Were you raised religious?"

"Catholic." He nods slowly, not understanding her point.

"That tracks." She sighs deeply, and Chris's stomach somersaults. "Then it's not inherently your fault, but out in the real world, women work differently than guys are raised to believe."

"You know I'm not practicing, right?" Chris asks, and Avery giggles.

"I could tell, hence the cheating, and all." Avery begins to shrug on the rest of her wet clothes, and Chris watches in awe as she continues speaking, all the while doing the opposite of a strip tease. "But both men and women want sex, regardless of the nitty gritty details. I'm a grown woman, and I told you what I wanted when we first spoke, and yet here you are, deciding for me that you're taking advantage of me."

"I'm sorry, I-" A million emotions wash over Chris, but he's left stumped again.

"Don't apologize. I think it's cute that you're trying. Most hookups wouldn't try to see things from the other's perspective, regardless."

"I'm sorry, back up a bit. What's this got to do with my Catholic upbringing?"

Avery groans, dramatically placing a hand to her temple and massaging a headache away. "Never mind, you are a lost cause after all." Chris laughs loudly as Avery giggles.

"You're a good guy, Chris. Stop second-guessing yourself. I've never had to tell any of my other fuckbuddies this; but live a little."

"You have a unique way of accidentally emasculating me whenever we speak."

"I wouldn't have to if guys just listened."

Chris shakes his head, a couple of water droplets flying from his hair as the top continues to dry in the cool evening air, leaking in due to the filter being cut off from electricity. "So, teacher, if I'm understanding your points correctly, I was raised to believe we're different, but we're actually not," he continues prattling on, counting his points on his fingers for dramatic effect, "I'm a guy so I can't understand, but it's nice that I'm trying, and you need sex to make you feel better when something obviously bad happens?"

There's an unspoken conversation happening just beneath the one they're vocalizing. They both continue to toe the line, dancing around the issue instead of facing it head-on, like a game of chicken, seeing who will bow down first.

Much to Chris's surprise, Avery concedes almost immediately. Plopping down next to him on the bed, even as he makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, worried about the amount of water they're getting onto the duvet.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worried you like that. Or leveraged my doe eyes to use your cock for my benefit." Chris barks out a laugh, too stunned by literally every part of her apology.

"I didn't want an apology, I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Chris continues to chuckle, amused by Avery's (accurate) description of how she weaponizes her beauty. She might be drop-dead gorgeous, but she's clever in a way that would be dangerous under different circumstances.

"I am now. And in the future, I'll let you know if it's rebound sex or just normal sex."

"And absolutely no sex if it's something serious." Chris gives Avery a pointed look, and she waves off his concern with her hand.

"Of course, but what constitutes something serious?"

"Bodily harm, death of a loved one." He's ready to go on, but Avery begins to laugh loudly. Tears form in her eyes as she clutches at her sides.

"Who do you take me for? I just came here because Sam left for a trip without saying anything, and I got butthurt. I'm not fucking you at my parents funeral, Chris. Dear lord."

Chris shuffles awkwardly, his stomach dropping as his face grows hot. Leave it to his unbelievably socially awkward self to have completely misunderstood the situation and plowed through anyway. He was so caught up in the heat of the moment that he somehow both felt bad for using her, but did it anyway without knowing what was wrong. He's a mess, and she's pulling the strings of a goofy and ill-proportioned marionette doll made in Chris's likeness with ease.

"This is just too good, you're hilarious." She stands and winces as her joints creak. Chris rolls his neck, feeling stiff from being seated for so long.

"I want to be friends with benefits." Chris blurts out, mouth popping open in horror as soon as the words come flowing out of his mouth. He didn't even mean to say them, but the entire situation has his head spinning. Is he using Avery, or trying to save her? Is Avery purposefully teasing him and playing with his head, or did he guess correctly at issues simmering beneath the surface?

Will she let him in more, and does he even have the right to ask such a thing, after he took her in the shower without a second thought?

Before Hazel's cheating fiasco, he wouldn't dare to do any of this. Fuck another woman, put his feelings first, stand up for himself, discard customary social politeness. He's undoubtedly a mess, yet he doesn't feel wrong about wanting more.

Avery steps forward, hovering over Chris, still seated on the bed. She leans down, lips right in front of his as she whispers. "You want to be my friend, so you feel less bad about using me?"

"I-" Chris begins, uncertainty coloring his tone and giving him pause. He's unsure why he feels like prey caught in a predator's trap. Avery gives him a cunning smile, and he swallows thickly. He's secretly enjoying the way the spider weaves its web and then devours its meal. He wants Avery to take more from him, and he gets the sense that Avery has already thought of every decision born of his newly found freewill. He's just along for the ride.

"I want to be friends too, Chris. And I want to be used by you." She smiles, kissing him once, before continuing. "And I want to use you in turn, does that make me wrong?" She cocks her head to the side, and Chris shakes his head. "I want to fuck you on your marital bed and then go out for drinks afterwords."

"Hazel will be home soon." Chris breathes out, completely taken away by Avery's dramatic shift in personality. He's never seen her like this, but he's not opposed to her more domineering side. It's intoxicating, and he wants to lean into the excited feeling her whispered words bring.

"We have all the time in the world, Chris. If we don't get caught, that is." She kisses him deeply, sitting on his lap and grinding down on his flaccid cock, now twitching with interest. His worries are forgotten by her sweet talking, and he feels his body eagerly accepting hers, wanting to take her and her pretty words right now, but he can't. He has to clean up before Hazel comes home and act like Avery isn't actively and purposefully unlocking a side to him he never knew existed.

She sticks her tongue in his mouth, and their breaths become heavier, more ragged as they make out with each other. Eventually, they're forced to part after a few long minutes, feeling the clock bearing down on them.

"What's that song? Girls just want to have fun." Avery pants out the rhetorical question, and Chris's mind spins. "Just trust me, Chris."

Chris nods once, and so he does. He trusts Avery completely with what they're doing. His moral compass deteriorates even more, and somewhere deep inside, his heart breaks further, but Avery fills in the cracks with excitement, creating kintsugi with his shattered pieces, reconstructing them in her favor. Chris is only left to wonder if he's affecting her at all or simply playing a part that she's created for him.

He finds that he doesn't mind either way.