Author's note: This is not a typical romance between one man and one woman, but a romance none the less. If you don't want to read about a three-way-relationship (two women - one man), please stop reading now because otherwise, you'll get disappointed. With the focus of the story being on the relationships, I decided to nevertheless put in the Romance category.
It's a stand-alone with about 14k words, a bit longer than three lit-pages. Of course, all people and events are purely fictional.
I hope you enjoy it and please leave a vote or a comment.
My thanks, as always, go to my editors: Anon and Joffa. I can't stress enough how important their contributions are.
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"Sweetheart, can you get the door? I'm not presentable," my girlfriend shouted unnecessarily from the master bathroom on the upper floor.
Not presentable? At twenty-seven, compared to my twenty-nine, she was more beautiful than ever. With her long, dark blonde hair, symmetrical face, those expressive light blue eyes, her cute button nose, and this sensual mouth begging to be kissed, she was the epitome of the desirable girl next door. She was slim, sixty kilos on a one-metre seventy-two frame, had a behind I couldn't stop admiring, and groping, and had a good handful on her chest, also the frequent target of both my eyes and my hands. Her friendly and inclusive character completed her to what I regarded as a perfect woman.
Since we've moved in together, we usually didn't go out on Friday evenings anymore, so this had become her so-called makeover day. I had stopped wondering what she was doing in there for hours as to me she looked as striking coming out as she did going in. She wanted to be left alone while she did it, so I usually occupied myself on my own.
This habitual behaviour was the reason why I regarded her asking me to open the door as superfluous. I wasn't sure what it would take for Eileen to leave the bathroom prematurely but she wouldn't do it voluntarily.
"Yep," I replied as I had already risen from the couch.
I walked over to the door and opened it. I didn't even bother to check the spyhole. It was Friday evening, eight thirty, and we weren't expecting anyone. Who could it possibly be if not an annoying salesman or a religious fanatic? Consequentially, I was stunned when I saw who was there and the state she was in.
"Debbie! What the... Come in. EILEEN! Get down here NOW!"
As an afterthought, I added, "Bring the first aid kit and some ice!"
Debbie Marshall has been my girlfriend's best friend since like forever. They had met the first day in preschool and somehow got through their teenage years without becoming enemies over some triviality or another. For the first time since they were four years old, they went separate ways when they started at different universities and during this period Eileen and I met.
That was, in fact, an exceptionally unspectacular story. We happened to study at the same table at the library one day. We small talked a little, went for a coffee, then a couple dinners. We hit it off fast and quickly became exclusive. When she was two years into her Master's in Finance and Accounting and I was about to start on my doctorate in mathematics, I went with her to meet her parents and during this visit, I met Debbie for the first time.
I had heard a lot about her. We had even talked on the phone on occasion when Eileen happened to be in the shower or otherwise unavailable, but so far, we had never seen each other face to face. At first, she barely spoke to me and acted very stand-offish. She never made eye-contact and generally avoided looking at me. This went on for two or maybe three days. Then our relationship, if you wanted to call it that, rapidly deteriorated. I never understood what had happened, but nothing I ever did from then on was met with anything but a scowl. If she stooped to talk to me, it was an insult.
Because my PhD and Eileen's Master's degree were only a year apart, I tried and managed to haggle a short time appointment as a data analyst to a research project out of my doctoral advisor. This allowed us to stay together at the university before we moved to her hometown, much to the dismay of my own parents who would have preferred me a little closer.
In the two years since, my girlfriend has been doing a careful balancing act trying to keep Debbie and me apart while at the same time regularly seeing her best friend. At first, I took a new effort to be friendly whenever we met but after a while, I lost my patience with her. She was just so incomprehensively irrational and irritating. Soon it became obvious that Debbie despised me with all her heart. I fully understood how this put Eileen in a horrible situation. I never asked her to stop meeting Debbie, but instead tried to be as far away as possible whenever she came around. Usually, this meant working longer hours or an extended session at the fitness studio if I knew of a visit in advance. The emergency plan was a hasty retreat into my man-cave where I maintained an electric railway.
The relationship I had with Debbie was the main reason why I hadn't yet proposed to Eileen. I was seriously wondering whether her best friend might cause us to break up in the end. My being Eileen's husband and simultaneously her best friend's preferred subject of hate had the potential to cause manifold problems. I was afraid that if she was forced to choose between us, it would create a rift in our relationship which might prove impossible to mend, even if she chose me.
But now Debbie was standing on our doorstep. One eye was swollen shut, the other discoloured. She had multiple bruises on her face, her nose was possibly broken, and her lower lip was split. No matter how much we detested each other, this was not the time to hold a grudge. I put my hand on her shoulder to guide her to the couch, immediately regretting it when she winced from the pain that gentle touch caused.
"Please. Sit down," I said quietly. "I'll just go and see what's taking Eileen so long."
I barely managed to turn around when my girlfriend came down the stairs, the medkit in her hands. It was obvious that she had not yet properly finished her weekly restoration project as there were still remnants of some cream under her ears and her hair was completely dishevelled.
"What's ..."
She didn't get any further as she discovered Debbie on the sofa. Tears appeared in her eyes as she approached her friend with a distraught 'oh my god' and pulled her into a careful hug.
While she embraced her BFF, I did what needed to be done. Using the freezer's built-in function, I produced some crushed ice and wrapped it in a kitchen towel. I brought it back to the living room where Eileen was still holding Debbie in a hug, crying with her instead of doing something useful. Women! I made sure to appear calm and non-threatening as I approached the pair and wordlessly urged Eileen to take the ice. This finally sparked her into action. Meanwhile, I took the first aid kit from the coffee table and pulled out the disinfectant.
After inspecting the worst of the abrasions, I knew my efforts would be insufficient. "I think you should go to the hospital. Some of these injuries look really serious."
"Samuel! You can't send her away!" my girlfriend lectured me, shooting daggers through her eyes.
