After what happened in Vanessa's car, I exchanged contact information with her. It was quick, almost automatic, done between one comment and another, as if it were just another trivial detail of the day. Still, the weight of that exchange was heavier than it seemed. She said she would message me soon, wearing that same confident smile of someone who is always in control of the situation. I just nodded, not really knowing what to expect. After that, the rest of the day went by in an oddly normal way, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No mysterious messages, no immediate problems, no visible consequences. Just routine reclaiming its place in the most monotonous way possible.
I had two boring classes in a row. The kind of long, dragged-out lectures where the professor talks nonstop while students pretend to pay attention, some secretly scrolling on their phones, others openly falling asleep. The content might have been interesting under different circumstances, but at that moment my mind was far away. Monday is, without a doubt, the worst day of my week. I have classes from eight in the morning until six in the evening, basically an entire shift trapped on campus, while the other days are much lighter. Monday seems to exist solely to drain whatever energy or motivation I still have after the weekend.
When the day finally began crawling toward its end, I decided not to go straight home. Before that, I stopped by one of my favorite bakeries, a small place I've frequented for years. I like the bread they make there—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, always fresh. It's one of those simple little things that can still improve my mood, even after an exhausting day. I also took the opportunity to buy a chocolate-and-strawberry cake. Bianca likes that kind of thing. Lately, I've been trying to improve my relationship with her, even though I know how thankless that effort can be.
Just the idea of kicking her out of my house already gives me a headache. I can perfectly imagine the chaos that would follow. She would probably make a huge scene, blast everything on social media, twist the story in her favor, and turn her fans against me. Those are some of the "advantages" of being a famous model with over a million followers online. Her influence is real, and I have no desire to become the villain in the public narrative she would certainly create.
If I can't kick her out, then at least our coexistence should improve. That was the thought that led me to put in a little effort to please her, even knowing that such an attitude would never come from her side. Bianca is not the kind of person who tries to fix relationships. On the contrary, she always expects the world to adapt to her, never the other way around. That makes any attempt at balance extremely difficult.
After leaving the bakery, I headed home. The walk felt longer than usual, maybe because of accumulated exhaustion or the anticipation of what I might find when I arrived. As soon as I unlocked the door, I was greeted by the living room lights being on and loud, annoying music playing. That typical "pick me girl" kind of music, made to sound deep but actually just tiring. Obviously, that was Bianca's doing.
I found her sitting on the couch, holding a glass of wine, on a Monday night. On the coffee table in front of her was an open wine bottle, more than half of it already gone. On the TV mounted on the wall, a music video by her favorite artist was playing. I don't know the name, I've never cared enough to learn it, but it irritates me.
Bianca probably had some kind of problem during the day that left her upset. She's like that: she gets frustrated easily and tends to drown her sorrows in alcohol. It happens more often than she admits. Bianca likes to see herself as a victim of the world, as if everyone is constantly against her. Any small inconvenience turns into a personal tragedy.
"Bianca." I called out, just so she would notice my presence and know I was home.
She slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes droopy, already showing that she was drunk.
"Look who it is… our loser." She said, flashing that typical mocking smile she uses when she wants to provoke.
I left the things I bought in the kitchen and went back to the living room. I approached Bianca, who was refilling her glass with more wine. Before she could drink, I grabbed the bottle from her hand. My movement was rough enough to startle her, but the surprise quickly turned into a look full of anger.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" she said sharply.
"That's enough drinking," I said firmly.
"What? Who do you think you are to give me orders?"
"Me? The unlucky guy who has to clean up your mess every time. I don't know if you forgot, but you threw up last time, remember?" I said irritably, recalling the disgusting cleanup I had to do all over the house.
At least today she was only drinking wine. Last time, she mixed wine with beer. I don't know if it was the mixture or just the excess, but she drank ten cans of beer and half a bottle of wine. Not long after, she started vomiting all over the house. Just remembering having to clean that up makes me irritated again.
Bianca stared at me with disgust but didn't protest. She knew she had crossed the line last time.
"Look, I don't know what happened to you today, and you probably don't even want to talk about it." After all, we're not close enough for that. "But you should stop drinking like this. It's bad for your health, and it could stain your modeling career if people find out you act like an alcoholic sometimes."
"I'll just finish this glass," she said, leaning back against the couch with an annoyed expression.
I sighed, watching her childish behavior. It's hard to believe she's twenty-seven years old.
"Fine… I bought a chocolate-and-strawberry cake for you. It's in the kitchen."
She looked at me again while taking an exaggerated gulp of wine. Some of it spilled from the corner of her mouth, making Bianca run her tongue over her lips slowly, in an almost provocative way.
"Trying to win me over, loser?" she said in a sensual voice, clearly teasing me.
I sighed again. Dealing with drunk people is extremely irritating.
"I'm just trying to improve things between us. If you don't want to eat it, don't." I said, then walked away.
I took the wine bottle to the kitchen and put it away. Then I went straight to the bathroom. I got into the bathtub and let the hot water run over my body, trying to relax. It had been a long day. In the silence, I heard my phone vibrate. It was a message from Vanessa. Nothing important, just letting me know my contact had been saved correctly.
After my bath, I went back to the living room and found Bianca asleep on the couch. It was still early, around eight at night, but the alcohol had already taken effect. I tried to wake her up, but Bianca started making a scene, asking to be carried. I had no other choice.
She's not heavy, so carrying her in my arms wasn't difficult. What made it harder was Bianca herself, squirming and mumbling. Luckily, her bedroom door was open. I laid her on the bed, but unlike what I expected, I couldn't leave right away. She grabbed me and pulled me onto the bed. Before I realized it, I was lying down with Bianca on top of me.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" she said, her voice completely soaked in alcohol.
Having a woman like her on top of me made my blood rush straight to my dick. The mix of her perfume and alcohol created a dirty, provocative scent. Suddenly, I felt something squeezing my dick, it was her hand.
"Who would've thought… you're big." She laughed.
"Hey… Bianca."
With a quick movement, I managed to roll my body and switch our positions. Now she was underneath me. I pinned her arms down firmly. Instead of anger, I found Bianca staring at me with seductive eyes, lightly biting her lip. She looked like a woman completely out of control.
"We're not going to do things you might regret later," I said, struggling to keep my reason intact.
For a moment, I had to think with my upper head, not the lower one. My dick was so hard it almost hurt. Bianca is, without a doubt, a very hot woman.
She didn't say anything. She just stared at me.
I released her arms. Bianca simply spread out on the bed and closed her heavy eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. I left her room and closed the door. My body finally began to relax. If I had acted without thinking, I would have created a massive problem. I know Bianca, she has a very malicious side.
I went down to the kitchen to have dinner. At the end of the night, I messaged Nathan so we could play online.
…
(Bianca's POV)
I woke up with a dull headache, that annoying sensation that starts behind the eyes and slowly pulses, reminding me of every glass I shouldn't have drunk. It took me a few seconds to understand where I was. My bed. My room. The silence of the house contrasted sharply with the noise inside my head. I left my room still a bit dizzy and went down to the kitchen, my mouth dry and almost desperate for water.
As I drank, regret began to settle in. I knew I had overdone it again. I always know. But in the moment, it's so easy to ignore. As the headache faded, memories from the previous night started coming back, one by one, like unwanted flashes.
Luke.
The scene in the bedroom replayed fully in my mind. The way he held me, the serious look, the forced control. It made my stomach churn, not with desire, but with irritation. I almost threw up in disgust.
I can't believe I let that loser lie on my bed. Worse, touch my body. Me, Bianca, letting that happen. Just thinking about it made a bitter taste rise in my throat.
My eyes fell on the chocolate-and-strawberry cake sitting on the kitchen counter. He bought that for me. For some reason, that annoyed me even more. I cut a slice and ate it, almost angrily. It tasted good. Very good, actually.
"Well… he's not completely useless," I muttered to myself. "He can be kind of useful."
As I chewed, my treacherous mind pulled up another memory. The bulge in his pants when I got close. That hadn't gone unnoticed, especially not now.
Luke is a loser, yes. But even losers can be useful. And I always know how to take advantage of the people around me.
I smiled faintly and grabbed another piece of cake.
Maybe that night hadn't been a complete mistake after all.